The Golden Songbird

by Sheila Walsh

  Society had a long memory where scandals were concerned, and Lucia’s arrival on the scene was just the fillip needed to stimulate gossiping tongues. Fortunately, Lucia was so overjoyed to be coming alive again, she was blissfully unaware that a certain amount of malicious gossip was mingled with the more kindly interest shown in her.

  Lady Springhope had insisted on replenishing Lucia’s limited wardrobe. She waved away all protests, declaring that a few dresses were neither here nor there ‒ and added dryly that the few Lucia did possess were scarcely adequate for her present needs.

  This Lucia could not deny. She had long since outgrown most of her dresses, and the few that remained had required all her considerable ingenuity with a needle to maintain any degree of freshness. Mr Franklyn had been mean for all his wealth. He was willing to invest in gowns like that dreadful one she had been obliged to wear on the fateful evening when she had met Lord Mandersely, but in every other respect he had kept her woefully short.

  So she gave herself up happily to the task of choosing, for almost the first time in her life, exactly what she liked. Also, there was the small allowance Lady Springhope had pressed upon her; a mere trifle she insisted, for the purchasing of knick-knacks, but to Lucia it was riches!

  With Chloe in attendance, she haunted the modish shops of New Bond Street and Piccadilly, delighting in the absurdities of dress and manners to be encountered in this most fashionable of quarters; the macaronis tottering on high, mincing heels, their faces heavily painted, and wearing bizarre polka dots and stripes ‒ and collars so high, their wearers could not possibly see where they were going!

  The shops were, in themselves, a delight; she lingered over a length of ribbon here ‒ a fine lace trimming there, lovingly selecting a pair of pale yellow kid gloves or, when she felt truly extravagant, perhaps a book.

  With her thoughts lost in a brand new copy of Mr Scott’s Marmion, Lucia emerged from Hatchard’s Bookshop in Piccadilly one morning straight into the arms of a passing gentleman ‒ and was dismayed to find herself held fast.

  An odiously familiar voice with just a hint of brogue said softly, ‘Why, Lucia ‒ darling girl! If this isn’t a happy coincidence!’

  Time rolled back; her heart began to beat with a heavy thud. She looked up, into the mocking eyes of Sir Gideon Benedict.

  ‘Please, Sir Gideon ‒ release me this instant!’ she commanded coldly. ‘People are staring!’

  ‘And why wouldn’t they stare? The men will be wishing they were in my place, and the women ‒ sure, who knows what women will be thinking?’

  He let her go and she stepped backwards instinctively. He smiled. ‘As I said, a happy coincidence. I am to visit your stepfather this very evening. There is a matter I must settle with all speed ‒ a matter which would be settled by now, had I not been called away.’ His glance moved boldly over her. ‘I confess I am impatient for its conclusion!’

  Lucia suppressed a shudder. She looked around to reassure herself of Chloe’s presence, peering goggle-eyed from behind a mountain of small parcels. It was ridiculous to be so unnerved in a public place, yet it took every ounce of self-possession to say calmly, ‘Then I wish you luck, Sir Gideon. I shall not see you, for I am no longer at Bruton Street.’

  He was suddenly still ‒ watchful. ‘Why? How is this? Nothing was said before I went away.’

  ‘It was … unexpected. I am staying in Portland Place, with Lady Springhope.’

  For a fleeting instant wild fury distorted the heavy features. ‘Mandersely’s aunt. I see!’

  ‘Lady Springhope is a particular friend of my grandfather,’ Lucia said quickly ‒ too quickly. The mocking smile returned, but this time it didn’t reach the hard eyes.

  ‘So! It seems I must change my plans.’

  She could scarcely breathe. ‘I don’t understand you, sir.’

  ‘Oh I think you do, fair Cyprian. I think we understand one another very well!’ Lucia couldn’t look away. His voice sank to a vehement whisper. ‘You are mine!’

  Oh God, she must get away! Her limbs felt paralysed. And then, as if in answer to her prayer, a voice hailed her; the reassuring figure of Captain Blanchard was bearing down on them. Lucia could have fallen on his neck.

  ‘Miss Mannering! Here’s a lucky chance. I called at Portland Place and found you were gone out I came along in hopes of finding you.’

  For the first time he noticed her companion and his expression altered. He nodded curtly. ‘Your servant, Benedict.’

  ‘Captain Blanchard!’ Sir Gideon’s voice was gently derisive. ‘I might have guessed you would be nearby. In affairs concerning your cousin you are seldom far away.’

  Lucia saw Toby’s jaw tighten and said quickly, ‘Captain Blanchard, I have completed my purchases. Would you be kind enough to see me home?’

  She tugged at his sleeve, her eyes pleading with him not to make trouble. Toby swallowed on his anger and smiled gently down at her. ‘Gladly, Miss Mannering.’ He turned. ‘We bid you good day, Benedict.’

  Sir Gideon bowed with exaggerated courtesy. ‘I am desolated. But we shall meet again, my dear Lucia.’

  She swung on her heel and left him standing. With Chloe half-running behind them, juggling with her packages, Toby strode along at Lucia’s side, muttering words like ‘unscrupulous’ and ‘scoundrely rogue’. Finally, he said with a rueful grin, ‘Sorry, Miss Mannering! Let us forget the creature. Come, take my arm.’

  Lucia did so and he exclaimed, ‘Why, my dear, you are trembling! Benedict really rattled you, didn’t he? You should have let me plant him a facer!’

  She laughed shakily. ‘Oh, it is quite ridiculous, the way that man affects me! I can’t explain it.’

  ‘I can. The fellow’s a rotten egg!’

  ‘I daresay you are wondering how I come to know him?’

  ‘None of my business, m’dear,’ he said gently. ‘Though he ain’t one I’d recommend as a friend.’

  Haltingly she told him what she had told Lady Springhope.

  Toby was incensed. ‘I tell you what, dear girl. Shouldn’t venture out on foot ‒ even with your maid. Use the carriage. Her ladyship won’t mind.’

  ‘Oh, come, Captain Blanchard!’ Lucia was half-amused by his earnestness. ‘What could Sir Gideon possibly do in a public thoroughfare?’

  ‘Don’t know, m’dear,’ said Toby bluntly. ‘But I know what he’s capable of.’

  ‘He is really so bad?’

  ‘Oh, I’ll grant he can be as charming as you please, but there’s a side to his character that don’t bear investigation. ’Tis rumoured that he heads an army of cut-throats and ruffians, not to mention young bloods out for a little sport, robbing any poor traveller caught out alone, often leaving them near-dead.’

  ‘But that is dreadful!’

  ‘Oh, that’s only the half of it. He is known to own a number of the brothels in the region of Covent Garden and Pall Mall; makes a tidy profit out of procuring poor unfortunates to stock ’em …’ He became aware of her shocked expression and blushed to the roots of his fair hair. ‘Miss Mannering … I do beg your pardon! Quite unforgivable of me to soil your ears with such tattle …’

  ‘Don’t be nonsensical!’ scoffed Lucia. ‘Tell me ‒ how is he allowed to get away with such wickedness?’

  ‘Often wondered about that myself. Of course, hearsay ain’t evidence and he has some pretty influential friends. Shouldn’t wonder if he don’t have something on them; blackmail would fit with all the rest. He’s never short of funds and it don’t come from his family. The estates in Ireland are known to be in a poor way.’

  Lucia was silent, appalled but not surprised.

  ‘Tell you what, m’dear,’ said Toby diffidently, ‘… don’t know how much longer I shall be around … off abroad any day, d’ye see, but when the army ain’t claiming my time … I’d be happy to appoint myself your escort.’

  Lucia was touched and said she would accept gladly, but only if he was sure it would not be an imposition, and tha
t he would promise to tell her if it became so. Thus, under the surprised and benevolent eye of Lady Springhope, the pair became fast friends.

  Sir Gideon crossed their path so often that coincidence must be ruled out, but he made no further attempt to engage Lucia’s attention. His constant presence however made her nervous, as no doubt it was meant to do. She knew he was only waiting, biding his time.

  Lord Mandersely they saw not at all. Lucia did not know whether to be glad or sorry; on balance she decided that she was glad. There had been an abrasive quality about their brief encounters that she found decidedly unsettling.

  Toby, missing his cousin however, finally ran him to earth late one night in White’s, deep in a game of faro, with Lord Alvanley and Mr Brummell. ‘Hugo ‒ there you are! I had given up hope of finding you.’

  ‘Well, now you have done so, be easy I pray you, dear boy,’ sighed his lordship without raising his eyes from the table.

  Toby grinned, unabashed and stood watching the play.

  ‘Do you care to sit in, Blanchard?’ Alvanley asked good-naturedly.

  ‘Not I!’ retorted Toby. ‘A captain’s pay don’t run to your kind of stakes!’

  ‘Against your cousin’s luck, I don’t blame you,’ George Brummell murmured with feeling.

  Play finally broke up, with the Marquis running out a comfortable winner, and as the others drifted away, Hugo lit up a cigar and lounged back in his chair, eyeing Toby through the curling smoke. ‘Well, dear boy ‒ here I am. You wanted me?’

  ‘Not really. I just haven’t seen you … wondered if you had been away.’

  Hugo looked faintly surprised. ‘As a matter of fact Edward and I have been down at Mandersely Court, going over estate accounts with old Blenkinsop. I might have suggested your joining us … Mama would have been pleased to see you …’ He paused significantly … ‘but I believed you to be fully occupied.’

  ‘Who ‒ me?’

  ‘Miss Mannering, my boy. I hear you are now become quite inseparable.’

  ‘Oh that!’

  ‘Are felicitations in order yet?’

  ‘Good Lord! It ain’t that kind of relationship!’

  ‘You surprise me,’ murmured his cousin. ‘I have been expecting almost hourly to learn of your approaching nuptials.’

  Toby groaned. ‘Stop it, Hugo ‒ you’re roasting me! I’m dashed fond of Lucia, of course … but well, you know me …’

  ‘Indeed I do, dear boy.’ Hugo’s expression was bland. ‘But I wonder, does Miss Mannering?’

  ‘Yes … of course she does! Lucia wouldn’t expect … she doesn’t …’ Toby broke off in confusion to see Hugo’s shoulders shaking with silent laughter. ‘Hugo ‒ you devil! You are roasting me!’

  He could not put this conversation out of his head; it kept returning to plague him, so that when he next met Lucia, he was decidedly edgy.

  They had arranged to take Lady Springhope to Vauxhall Gardens to hear the music. There to her delight she came upon her dear friend Mrs Bellingham, and the two ladies were left to have a cosy gossip and dissect a few characters, whilst Lucia and Toby wandered off down one of the long walks.

  It didn’t take Lucia long to sense a certain restraint in Toby’s manner. She found his glance frequently coming to rest upon her in a most disconcerting way. Finally she could stand it no longer. When they came upon one of the many little ornamental temples, she pulled him inside, noting his obvious reluctance.

  She faced him with an air of mock tragedy. ‘Come now, I beg you, Toby ‒ tell me the worst! I have developed some dreadful blemish and you are wondering how to break the news to me?’

  ‘Certainly not, m’dear. You are as lovely as ever.’ Toby shuffled, ill-at-ease and Lucia was just a little exasperated.

  ‘Then why, dear Toby, have you been staring at me this hour past, as though I had two heads?’

  ‘Oh Lord, Lucia ‒ I’m sorry!’ He paced about the confined space, one hand pushing through his carefully arranged locks. ‘The thing is … well, it never occurred to me that you might misunderstand … wouldn’t have you hurt for the world, but …’ he was floundering and Lucia, suddenly seeing daylight, strove to keep a straight face.

  ‘Toby dear,’ she said gently, ‘I am not expecting you to offer for me. I cannot imagine where you got such an idea, but it is quite nonsensical. I love you dearly, but as a brother only.’

  His relief was so comical that Lucia could restrain her mirth no longer.

  ‘Oh dear! Your face! You should see your face!’

  He grinned. ‘I was devilish worried, I can tell you. I mean, I think the world of you, m’dear; you know that, but … well, the plain fact is, I ain’t cut out for marriage. Can’t say I would have given it a thought, but for something Hugo said …’

  ‘I might have known your wretched cousin would be at the back of it!’

  ‘Oh, it was just a bit of fun. No harm done, eh?’

  ‘No thanks to him!’

  ‘I know you don’t like Hugo above half, but he’s a capital fellow. I owe him a great deal.’

  ‘H-m!’ Lucia was sceptical.

  ‘No ‒ truly!’ Toby insisted. ‘It ain’t easy to speak of the past, even now, but … well, d’ye see, my father was a gambler; oh, not just gaming ‒ obsessive it was. He’d bet on anything ‒ two flies crawling up a wall ‒ anything!’ His eyes clouded.

  ‘Toby dear, you don’t have to tell me.’

  He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘Two years ago he shot himself.’ He heard her swift intake of breath. ‘Seems he’d gambled away everything. There was no entail and everything had gone ‒ house ‒ lands ‒ the lot. There was nothing but a mountain of debts.’

  ‘Oh Toby!’

  He gave her a bleak stare. ‘It was pretty grim. Fact is, I don’t know how I’d have got through without Hugo. He sorted it all out … paid off the debts … wouldn’t hear a word of objection, though, Lord knows, he’d had enough troubles. All in the family, he said … his mama and mine were sisters, d’ye see.’

  ‘And your mama?’

  ‘Oh, thank God, she’d passed away years before. No ‒ there was only me. Hugo was all for taking me into his household, but I wasn’t going to sponge off him for the rest of my days. I decided that the army was the thing for me.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘I’d a fancy to be a rifleman ‒ in Moore’s Light Brigade. Even then, I couldn’t prevent his purchasing a Captaincy in the 95th. So you see, my dear, why I won’t hear a word against Hugo.’

  ‘Lord Mandersely certainly seems to have behaved with great generosity,’ Lucia conceded. ‘But I still think it shabby of him to tease you; I shall tell him as much when I see him.’

  She was very quiet on the drive home until she was gently rapped over the knuckles by Lady Springhope’s fan.

  ‘Pay attention, child!’

  Lucia started. ‘Forgive me, ma-am. I was a mile away.’

  ‘Yes, well ‒ I was saying that Serena Bellingham is holding a musical soiree this day week.’ She beamed. ‘You must have a new dress. I have quite made up my mind, so do not be trying to argue. Palest yellow I think.’

  When the evening of the party arrived, Lucia was glad of the new dress, for it gave her confidence. She had been to one or two informal evenings, but had always had Toby to bear her company. This time he was away.

  The pale lemon crêpe was very becoming; edged round the neck with tiny green flowers and caught under the bosom with soft green floating ribbons. Chloe had become expert at arranging Lucia’s hair. Tonight it was taken off her face and encouraged to fall in soft ringlets. She presented herself for inspection when they were ready to leave, her green eyes sparkling against the creamy pallor of her face.

  ‘Quite lovely!’ Lady Springhope sighed. ‘I can scarcely wait for the autumn, my dear. Hetty is as dark as you are fair. Between you, you should have every beau for miles around at your feet.’

  She smoothed down her own plump figure and her eye gleamed wickedly. ‘Bella Carew will be
pea-green with envy. Her Clara is a plain, whey-faced little creature ‒ hideously spoiled. No-one has come anywhere near offering for her all season, and I cannot imagine anyone ever doing so! I declare I could laugh when I think how monstrous unkind she was about my Maria!’ By which Lucia concluded that Lady Isabel Carew was not her favourite person.

  The Bellinghams’ house was not so grand as Lady Springhope’s, but there were more people in the main salon than Lucia had expected. A smaller room leading off the main salon had been set aside for cards, and downstairs the dining room table groaned under an enormous cold buffet.

  Mrs Bellingham welcomed them effusively. ‘We are looking to you young things to entertain us, so I hope you have come prepared,’ she twinkled. ‘And if you should be wishing to dance a little later, my companion, Miss Simms, will happily play.’

  Lucia was introduced to Mrs Bellingham’s daughter Felicity, a friendly girl about her own age, with a pert nose and a quantity of glossy brown curls, and her brother Tom, a year or so older and rather serious.

  Glancing up, Lucia saw a familiar figure near the door of the card room. ‘I didn’t know Lord Mandersely was to be here,’ she whispered.

  Felicity followed her gaze. ‘I know Mama invited him, but she had little hope of his accepting, for he seldom ever goes to parties.’ Her eyes lit with mischief. ‘Ah, the notorious widow is with him! Have you met her? Countess de Treves … they are inseparable these days.’

  Lucia was intrigued to see the kind of woman that Hugo found irresistible. She was very beautiful ‒ tall and willowy, with the kind of style that made every other woman in the room seem frumpish by comparison.

  ‘Mama says Lord Mandersely will probably marry her one of these days, for they are already … well, you know …’ she giggled. ‘And he must marry soon, for he is quite old … and of course he is terribly rich and she is supposed to be fearfully extravagant.’

  At that moment, the Marquis looked across the room. He inclined his head slightly but made no attempt to seek her company, and presently disappeared into the card room.