by Sheila Walsh
He looked pained. ‘My dear Miss Mannering ‒ I should be very sorry to know that you had slept badly.’ He paused. ‘Though I believe it often is the case when one’s plans are overset.’
His voice made her uneasy. ‘Should that remark have some special significance, my lord?’
‘It might.’ His sleepy gaze was fixed on her with a curious intentness. ‘I received a visitor this morning. Your stepfather.’
‘Mr Franklyn! Don’t say that he came to apologize? I cannot believe it.’
‘To apologize ‒ no. His visit was more in the nature of a threat.’ Her bewilderment increased. ‘He accused me of removing his stepdaughter ‒ an innocent young girl ‒ from his protection, and demanded an amende honorable.’
Lucia’s green eyes widened.
‘In short, he proposed marriage as the only possible solution.’
‘Oh no!’ Distress mingled with the contempt in her voice. ‘Oh how like my stepfather to seize the chance of allying himself to a lord! He must have been in a fury to find his ambition thwarted.’
‘He was not pleased!’ The Marquis paused. ‘It crossed my mind that he might not be alone in his displeasure?’
‘I do not understand you, sir.’
‘I think you do, madam,’ he said softly, ‘but I will rephrase so that there may be no misunderstanding. Suppose I offered you, now, my hand in marriage?’
She slowly turned crimson as bewilderment gave way to indignation and finally to anger. ‘I should thank you for the honour, sir.’ Her voice shook. ‘But I did not escape one tyrant in order to tie myself to another. How typically arrogant of you to suppose me capable of such deviousness. You are like all of your kind.’
Lord Mandersely’s eyes were hard; he toyed absently with the black riband of his quizzing glass. ‘Are you then so familiar with my kind?’
‘Oh yes, my lord!’ There was a world of scorn and bitterness in her words. ‘In the months since my mother’s death, Mr Franklyn has been busy courting the nobility and pseudo-nobility. In that time I have been most shamefully used. I have been paraded for inspection ‒ subjected to every excess of over-familiarity you can name in the hopes that one of these “fine gentlemen” might honour me with his favours in return for certain considerations!’
Hugo’s brows drew together. ‘And do you really class me amongst this riff and raff?’
‘Oh, I am aware that you consider yourself a cut above ordinary mortals! Your air of disdain did not go unnoticed last night.’
‘But then you see,’ he explained softly, ‘I like to choose on whom I bestow my favours. I do not like being manoeuvred.’
Lucia flinched at the rebuke. ‘Your scruples did not prevent you from accepting my stepfather’s wager?’
He strode across the room and towered over her. ‘Let us have plain speaking, madam. It was your challenge I accepted, as you intended I should! Did you realize what you were doing ‒ how it must appear? Or did you simply not care?’
His closeness was overpowering but Lucia stood her ground. ‘No, sir, I did not care! To be, as it were, put up for auction was the final humiliation. At that moment it seemed any change could only be for the better!’
‘Then it was well for you that I did not exact my dues in full.’
‘Oh I do indeed thank you for your gallantry and consideration!’ Her voice quivered with heavy sarcasm. ‘But I was not really to your taste in the first place, was I, my lord?’
His expression frightened her, yet she flung her head back defiantly, her eyes blazing with unshed tears. At every moment she expected he would strike her and tensed herself in readiness. The silence stretched interminably ‒ until a sharp voice broke the spell.
‘I daresay, Nephew, that you will have the good manners to greet me, when you find it convenient to do so.’
Lady Springhope had entered the room quite unnoticed. The Marquis spun round, flushing darkly. ‘Aunt Aurelia! I did not hear you come in.’
‘That does not surprise me!’ said his aunt dryly, looking from one to the other. Lucia turned away to dash a hand across her eyes and regain her composure.
The tiny stately lady tripped across the room and settled herself on her favourite sofa, smoothing her striped bombazine skirts to her liking. ‘I take it you two have been brawling?’
When there was no reply, she continued tartly, ‘Well, you can come down off your high ropes, both of you. I’ll not have it! Miss Mannering ‒ come and be seated.’ She tapped the sofa with an imperious gesture of her closed fan and Lucia dutifully obeyed. The Marquis took up his favourite stance at the fireplace, silent and brooding.
‘Now, Hugo ‒ this child has explained to me the events of last evening, which I find entirely incomprehensible. Whilst she has made every effort to excuse your behaviour …’
‘Has she, egad!’ ejaculated his lordship, directing a quick, frowning glance upon Miss Mannering’s bent head.
‘Don’t interrupt, Hugo! As I was saying, Miss Mannering may find excuses for you ‒ I am bound to say I can find none. But then, young people today behave generally with a lack of finesse that would have been unthinkable in my day.’ She encountered a particularly sanguine stare from her nephew. ‘Well, Hugo? You wish to say something?’
His eyes opened a little wider. ‘No, ma-am.’
‘Liar! You are longing to throw my own youthful indiscretions in my teeth.’
Hugo’s lips twitched. ‘Nothing of the kind, dear Aunt. I would never be so ungallant.’ He laid a curious emphasis on the final word and Lucia lifted her head to find his mocking eyes upon her. She stared back, tight-lipped.
Lady Springhope did not miss this little charade; there was a gleam in her eye as she continued. ‘Good! Because we are not here to discuss my past, but Miss Mannering’s future.’
‘Does that mean you will help me, ma-am? Do you perhaps know of someone in need of a governess?’
‘No, child, I do not. And I am bound to say I can see no possibility of your obtaining such a post.’ Lady Springhope watched the light die out of the young face; she patted Lucia’s hand kindly. ‘You are too pretty, m’dear. No wife in her right mind would employ you. Ain’t that so, Hugo?’
‘Undoubtedly!’ the Marquis lifted a mocking brow.
‘So I have decided what I am going to do,’ she continued with an air of decision. ‘I shall write to your grandfather.’
‘No!’ Lucia sprang to her feet.
Lady Springhope drew herself up haughtily. ‘I beg your pardon, Miss?’
‘I am sorry, ma-am! That sounded ungracious. Indeed I did not mean to seem so. But you must see how impossible it is!’
‘No ‒ frankly, I do not.’
The young girl was in a state of agitation. ‘For almost nineteen years my grandfather has denied my existence. I cannot ‒ will not crawl to him now!’
Lady Springhope exchanged glances with her nephew and received an eloquent shrug.
‘You are very bitter, Miss Mannering.’
‘Yes, ma-am ‒ I am. Do I not have cause?’
Her ladyship smiled sadly. ‘Perhaps. But it is so easy for the young to be intolerant. Have you never thought of the cost to your grandfather?’
Lucia frowned.
‘My dear child ‒ all these years your little family has been together, loving one another, enjoying things together whilst he, in a fit of anger not entirely unjustified …’ she held up a hand to forestall the ready protest. ‘I repeat, not entirely unjustified. Your father behaved with a total lack of consideration. However, this is neither here nor there; the fact remains that your grandfather cut himself off from all the pleasure you would have brought him.’
‘It was his own doing, ma-am. One word ‒ that was all it needed!’
‘Ah, but that is the hardest word of all to utter, my dear. Your grandfather is ‒ always has been ‒ a proud man. You will find as you get older that it becomes increasingly difficult to admit to being in the wrong.’
Lady Springhope sear
ched the stubborn young face before her. ‘What I am trying to say is that he is now an old, and I fear, a sick man. He is alone in the world except for your Aunt Addie, and I think he sometimes finds her more of a trial than a comfort.
‘Of course he is devilishly awkward, and has, as you say, denied you all these years.’ She paused. ‘But could you not find it in your heart to at least offer him a chance to mend matters?’
There was a long silence. Lucia looked uncertainly at Lady Springhope, her eyes wide and troubled. She had never thought of her grandfather as a flesh and blood person; he was that nebulous creature who had denied her father his rightful place in the world. Trying to picture him as Lady Springhope had described him, she found it impossible to whip up her usual passion of indignation.
She said huskily, ‘You have made me ashamed, ma-am. I will do whatever you think best.’
‘Good girl!’ Lady Springhope beamed at her. ‘I shall draft a letter to Rupert this very day.’
‘I had quite forgotten your connections with the Mannerings,’ drawled Hugo. ‘Now I recall, wasn’t there some talk of the old Colonel being one of your flirts?’
‘Really, Hugo!’ she admonished, and sighed nostalgically. ‘Dear me ‒ that was a very long time ago, before he met Marianne. From the moment she came on the scene, there was never anyone else. But though I haven’t seen him for many years, he had ever a soft spot for me.’
She patted Lucia’s hand. ‘Of course, nothing is certain, my dear; I cannot vouchsafe that Rupert will agree to a meeting, but you shall stay with me in the meanwhile.’
‘You are very kind to me, ma-am.’ Lucia smiled tremulously.
‘Stuff, child! I declare I was becoming very dull and stay-at-home with my Maria married and moved away into Gloucestershire.’ She beamed. ‘So, my dear Miss Mannering ‒ no, I cannot be calling you that if we are to be together. Lucia, is it not? You don’t mind?’
‘No ‒ I should like it.’
‘Good. I believe everything is going to work out splendidly. You may go down to Culliford Cross to spend the summer with your grandfather, and return to me in the autumn.’ Lady Springhope turned to her nephew. ‘You have not forgotten, Hugo, that your sister is to come to me in the autumn. I promised your dear mama that she should come as soon as she passed her eighteenth birthday.’
The Marquis groaned and covered his eyes with one slim, white hand. ‘Good God! I shall arrange to go on a very long journey!’
‘You will do no such thing. You will stay here and play your part in helping to establish your sister. If you give your mind to it, you should be able to find her a suitably eligible husband.’
‘Not I!’ retorted Hugo bluntly. ‘I’m not saying that I wouldn’t be glad to see Hetty safely leg-shackled, but in all conscience, I wouldn’t wish her on my worst enemy!’
‘Oh stuff! Hetty is just a normal, high-spirited girl. I am sure, my dear Lucia, that you will get along famously.’
A small frown had gathered on Lucia’s brow. ‘But what if my grandfather is obdurate, ma-am? I must then find some means of earning a living.’
‘I have quite decided, my love. If the worst should happen, you shall still come to me, for your dear late grandmama’s sake and because Freddie was my godson. He was too stubborn to accept any help from me, but I would like to think he might approve my helping you now. However,’ she added complacently, ‘I do not think Rupert will refuse me.’
Saunders came soft-footed into the room and made his way to Lady Springhope’s side, to inform her that there was a young person below, with a large portmanteau for Miss Mannering.
‘Indeed!’ Her ladyship’s eyebrows rose. ‘Then have it conveyed at once to Miss Mannering’s room.’ She turned to Lucia and said dryly, ‘It would seem that your Mr Franklyn has wasted little time in washing his hands of you.’
‘That is probably my doing,’ murmured Hugo. ‘I had a brush with him this morning.’
‘And gave him his congé, I trust?’
‘I did!’ His lordship’s eye rested meditatively on Lucia’s face. ‘I do not think Miss Mannering will be troubled any further.’
Saunders enquired what he should do about the young person. ‘She appears to be in a distressed state. I gather she has been dismissed, my lady.’
Lucia sprang up. ‘It must be Chloe ‒ poor child! She undoubtedly spoke her mind on my behalf, and he’s turned her off for spite.’
‘In that case, my dear, you had best keep her,’ suggested Lady Springhope with a twinkle.
‘Oh, but … Could I? May I tell her so, ma-am? She will be so grateful. Thank you!’ Impulsively Lucia bent to kiss the rouged and scented cheek, before whisking from the room.
In the silence following the closing of the door, the Marquis eyed his aunt with a kind of lazy, amused indulgence. ‘I do hope you realize, dear Aunt, just what you are taking on!’
Lady Springhope came out of a bemused reverie to glare at him. She produced her handkerchief and blew her nose fiercely.
Lucia followed Saunders down the staircase. He led her to a small back parlour, where she found a large, raw-boned girl of sixteen sobbing noisily into her apron. Beside her was a pathetically small bundle containing all her worldly possessions. The sight of her dear Miss Mannering brought on a fresh paroxysm of weeping; it took Lucia several minutes to calm her, and tell her of Lady Springhope’s kind suggestion. Chloe’s jaw dropped and her eyes, blotched with tears, opened saucer-wide.
‘You mean … stay here … with you, Miss?’ she swallowed on a hiccup.
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, Miss!’
‘Well then …’ Lucia turned uncertainly to Saunders, who took instant command of the situation.
‘You come with me, my girl. Mrs Barchester, the housekeeper, will see you; she will explain your duties, inform you of house rules and …’ his glance swept over her, … ‘provide you with suitable clothing.’
Chloe bobbed him a nervous curtsy. With a loud sniff and a last reluctant glance at her beloved Miss Mannering, she picked up her bundle and followed Saunders from the room.
Lucia wandered back into the main hall, trying to quell the little bubbles that kept welling up inside her. She stared with renewed fascination at the eccentric collection of bric-à-brac, which seemed no less bizarre in broad daylight.
Before a fearsome figure of a native warrior, complete with spear and feathered head-dress, she paused. On a sudden impulse she stepped back and swept him a deep, formal curtsy, and rose to find a very young footman staring at her open-mouthed. She flashed him her most dazzling smile and walked up the wide staircase, choking back a strong desire to collapse into giggles.
At the drawing room door she stopped, suddenly shy. Then she lifted her head and went in.
In her absence, Captain Blanchard had arrived. He was standing near the fireplace in conversation with Lord Mandersely. He swung round on hearing the door and came across to her, pleasure lighting his nice, honest face. He lacked the more stylish elegance of his cousin, but Lucia found nothing to quarrel with in his appearance.
‘Miss Mannering! I came to see how you did!’ He smiled down at her and his brilliant blue eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘Yes, you are already looking much more the thing. Lady Springhope has been telling me of her plans; I couldn’t be more pleased!’
He looked sheepish and tugged at his cravat: ‘I came also to offer my apologies.’
‘Apologies, Captain Blanchard?’
‘The fact is, ma-am … I believe I was more than a trifle foxed last night … don’t wish to revive painful memories, but … I hope nothing I might have said or done was in any way offensive.’ He appeared immensely relieved to have got this speech off his chest.
Lucia smiled at him. ‘You may be easy, Captain Blanchard. Your conduct was unfailingly courteous and in every way that of a gentleman.’
Lord Mandersely’s gentle sardonic voice completed the inference. ‘Whilst I, my dear Toby, as a mere nobleman, was not bound by a
ny such ridiculously conventional notions.’
‘Eh?’ Toby stared at his cousin, then at Lady Springhope who was chuckling with delight. He followed the direction of their gaze back to Miss Mannering, now turned rather pink.
‘Oh, I see!’ He grinned. ‘You two still brangling, are you?’
‘Not at all,’ said Lucia primly. ‘And I think it most unfair of his lordship to throw up at me something that was said in the heat of the moment.’
The Marquis laughed suddenly. ‘Oh come, Miss Mannering ‒ let us cry pax!’
‘Certainly, sir, if that is what you wish.’ Lucia regarded him in silence for a moment, and then her innate honesty forced her to a decision. ‘I believe I must owe you an apology, my lord.’
His eyebrows quirked upwards.
‘I … I am only too well aware how much I am in your debt, and I do indeed thank you for your … your forbearance last night.’ She was very conscious of his ironic scrutiny as she continued with heightened colour … ‘Unfortunately, this morning you provoked me into losing my temper, and I fear I said a number of things that would have been better left unsaid. For that I am indeed sorry.’
The Marquis stood looking down at her in silence and then a warm smile lit his sleepy eyes. ‘That was well done, Miss Mannering; you put me to shame.’ He held out his hand. ‘Come ‒ shall we agree to forget the events of the last twenty-four hours and begin again?’
‘Gladly, my lord,’ said Lucia shyly. His handclasp was firm and cool.
‘Good girl!’ Still with the ghost of a smile, he flicked her cheek lightly with one long slim finger. ‘And by the bye, little spitfire, try to keep that temper in check. I don’t know if you realize quite how close you came to feeling the weight of my hand? Next time you might not be so lucky!’
Chapter Four
The days passed for Lucia in a haze of happiness. Memories of Bruton Street faded to an occasional bad dream and her naturally buoyant spirits reasserted themselves.
She saw little of Lord Mandersely, though Captain Blanchard became a regular caller. In fact, Portland Place had suddenly become a popular venue. Some visitors were old friends of Lady Springhope’s, but many others left cards, drawn simply by curiosity concerning her ladyship’s young protégée, who was rumoured to be Freddie Mannering’s child.
