Allerdale: Confirmed Bachelors Book 1

by Jenny Hambly

  Her last words affected her accosters powerfully. They immediately stepped back into the establishments they had been promoting.

  “If you ask me,” Linny hissed, “they are selling more than hats in those shops! No wonder they didn’t want you reporting them to the constable!”

  “Well, never mind,” Eleanor said. “I admit I am a little disappointed, but we will just take a quick glance…” she paused, a growing delight in her eyes as she gazed at the objects on display in the window they had just come to. Not a speck of dust or smudge of grime obscured her view of the pretty bonnets within.

  “Now, tell me what you think of these,” Eleanor said.

  “They are a touch above the rest, that is certain,” Linny admitted.

  “You are mistaken. They are vastly superior to not only the other shops here but also to anything I have yet encountered in London. Why, I could purchase at least three I see immediately and not wish to modify them in any way.”

  She went quickly into the shop. A modest lady, with a plain face and a calm demeanour, came towards her. Eleanor judged her to be about the same age as herself.

  “Good morning, my lady,” she said, eyeing Eleanor’s bonnet with some appreciation.

  Eleanor was surprised to discover that her voice was well modulated and genuinely refined.

  “Mrs Willis?”

  “Yes,” the lady said, looking pleased. “Has someone recommended me? Do tell me who, for I shall be sure to offer them a discount on their next purchase.”

  “I would certainly do so if I knew her name. I met her in the park. She was a pretty girl…” Eleanor broke off, laughing. “That will not help you at all, I am sure many pretty girls frequent your establishment. I will describe the bonnet, that I am sure, you will remember.”

  When she had done so, Mrs Willis smiled. “Then it was Miss Finchley that you met. She is a sweet girl, and I must admit that I am surprised you are the first to come on a recommendation from her, for she must set off to advantage anything that she wears.”

  “Yes, she is quite lovely, but a little shy, I think.”

  “Yes, her aunt usually does all the talking.”

  “Her aunt? I had assumed she was with her mother.”

  “No, she was orphaned only last year and her aunt took her in.”

  “Well, I am extremely glad I did meet her, for your bonnets are everything I hoped they would be. It is so rare that I find anything I like, you see.”

  Mrs Willis looked surprised. “But the one you are wearing is very fetching.”

  “Thank you. But I furbished it up a trifle.”

  “You have a very good eye, ma’am.”

  “Miss Edgcott,” Eleanor said, holding out her hand. “Is there someone who could mind the shop for you for a little while? I would very much like to have a private word with you.”

  “Certainly, Miss Edgcott. Milly is trimming bonnets in the backroom. If you come this way, I will send her out and we can be perfectly private.”

  Eleanor smiled at her maid and handed over her reticule. “Have a good look round, Linny, and feel free to purchase anything you feel I might need.”

  Some half an hour later, Eleanor left the shop very satisfied with what she had discovered.

  “Well, miss?” her maid said. “And what kept you talking for so long?”

  “Oh, we were just exchanging ideas,” Eleanor said. “I feel very sorry for Mrs Willis. She only moved to her premises a little over a year ago, and she said the alley has gone sadly downhill since then. Two of the shops have changed hands and have cut their prices and hired those girls.”

  They were just crossing the road when Eleanor caught sight of Miss Finchley coming out of a linen draper’s shop. She hurried over to her, a friendly smile on her face.

  “Good morning, Miss Finchley. I must thank you for giving me Mrs Willis’ name and direction. She was very pleased to be recommended and you can expect a discount on your next purchase for your trouble.”

  A tremulous smile hovered on Miss Finchley’s lips. “Oh, thank you, Miss—”

  “Miss Edgcott. I think you must be braver than you look, Miss Finchley, if you can navigate your way through the ladies who try to drag you into their shops.”

  “They don’t bother with us anymore,” Miss Finchley said, raising two troubled eyes. “My aunt is quite formidable, you see.”

  “I imagine you might be grateful for that every time you shop in Cranbourn Alley.”

  “Oh yes, I am happy that she is then, if only…” She broke off and cast a quick glance at the sharp-faced maid who hovered a few feet behind her.

  “I think we should be getting back, miss,” the maid said. “Lady Crouch gave me strict orders that I was to take you straight home after you had fetched the material for your new cloak.”

  “Yes, yes, of course, Hoby.” She turned back to Eleanor, tears starting in her eyes. “It was very pleasant to—”

  “Do not hurry off so soon,” Eleanor said, taking the girl’s arm.

  She glanced coolly at the maid. “I am sure Lady Crouch will not object if Miss Finchley takes a turn about the square with me. I heard her saying only the other day that she wished her niece to widen her acquaintance in Town.”

  The maid’s mouth tightened, but she merely said, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Eleanor sent Linny a meaningful look, and she fell into step with the maid and began to chat with her.

  “Although I am sure they have our best interests at heart, servants who have known one a long time can become quite proprietorial, can’t they?” Eleanor said conversationally.

  “Hoby is my aunt’s maid,” Miss Finchley said in a soft voice. “I never had one of my own, although we did have a general maid. My aunt asks Hoby to wait on me also, but I do not think she likes it above half.”

  “Oh dear,” Eleanor said sympathetically. “That cannot be comfortable for you.”

  “No,” Miss Finchley admitted. “I am not very comfortable, although I am fully aware of how kind it was of my aunt to take me in.”

  “We have much in common,” Eleanor said. “I too lost my parent a little over a year ago, and my cousin and his wife asked me to come and live with them, although I do not think I had seen my cousin above twice in my life, and then only when I was a child.”

  “It was the same with me,” Miss Finchley said. “I hardly knew my aunt. She fell into disgrace with the family, although I have never discovered precisely why. She made a respectable marriage to a baronet, but my father would have nothing to do with her. Perhaps it was because Sir Roger was so much older than her. That is why it is so particularly kind of her to have taken me in, especially as she is not at all well off. It is the shabbiest thing, but now that she is widowed and Sir Roger’s cousin has inherited, she has been put into the meanest little cottage on his estate and is left with only a meagre jointure to live on.” She suddenly looked uneasy. “Here I am rattling on like a regular gabble-grinder as my papa used to say. I should not have said so much, but you are so very easy to talk to, Miss Edgcott.”

  “Oh, do not give it a thought. You have said nothing at all out of the way, after all. What did your papa do?”

  “He was an apothecary.” Miss Finchley smiled wistfully. “In Westmorland. We had a quaint little shop and lived above it. I used to tend the herb garden with Mama.”

  “What happened to them?” Eleanor said gently.

  “They both died of a fever. They had helped so many others, and yet could not save themselves.” Her voice trembled. “Please, ask me no more. It is too painful to remember.”

  “I quite understand. Forgive me.”

  They had by now almost completed their trip around the square. Miss Finchley impulsively took Eleanor’s hands.

  “Oh, no! There is nothing to forgive. It has been so pleasant to feel I have a friend.”

  “You may consider me your friend, Miss Finchley. You may find me at Lord Haverham’s house in South Audley Street.” She reached into her reticule
and withdrew a card. “Here is my direction.”

  “Thank you,” Miss Finchley said.

  Eleanor returned home with much to think about. She was far too well bred to have shown it, but the knowledge that Miss Finchley’s aunt had married into the gentry whilst her niece was an apothecary’s daughter had surprised her. Miss Finchley seemed the most genteel of the two by far. She felt sorry for the girl. She clearly missed her parents and was not happy. She frowned as she recalled that Lord Sandford had taken Miss Finchley up in his carriage. She hoped very much that Lady Crouch was not trying to promote a match between them, for however far that lady had married above her station, she felt certain that the marquess would not marry so far beneath his.

  She was also puzzled as to how Lady Crouch could afford to dress Miss Finchley in such fine style if she was so purse pinched. Lady Langton’s suggestion that they walked in the park in the hope of meeting desirable acquaintances now seemed more than likely, but Lady Crouch’s position as widow to a baronet had clearly not granted her entrée into any select circles. She did not believe Lady Langton’s other suggestion for a moment; there was a sweet innocence about Miss Finchley that did not suggest that she was anyone’s mistress, and Lord Sandford had not yet given up his pursuit of Diana.

  Eleanor shrugged off these thoughts as she entered the house. When Clinton informed her that his lordship had already gone out and her ladyship was resting, her mind returned to her own business. She went into the library and sat herself at the desk. She pulled a sheet of paper to her, dipped her pen in the ink standish, and began to write a letter to her solicitor. She quickly covered the first sheet and reached for another, not wishing to mar the clarity of her missive by crossing her lines.

  When it was finished, she folded it neatly and rose. She could, of course, ask Frederick to frank it for her, but there was every possibility that he would ask her why she needed to consult her solicitor. Not wishing to disturb the harmonious atmosphere that she felt sure would pervade the house today, she asked the footman to deliver it.

  When, sometime later, she entered the drawing room in a neat carriage dress of Pomona green, she discovered Diana sitting on a sofa, a small, contented smile on her lips. Eleanor thought that she had never seen her look so beautiful. It was not the rather splendid white satin pelisse she wore, or the matching hat with a plume of feathers in celestial blue that wrought this impression, although they suited her to perfection, but the soft bloom in her cheeks and the happy glow in her large blue eyes.

  “Have you had a good day?” Eleanor asked her.

  Diana blinked as if waking from a pleasant dream. “Oh, yes. Although it has been a shockingly lazy day.”

  “Why shockingly?” Eleanor asked. “You must have needed just such a restful day for you look to be in high bloom.”

  “I feel very well, it is true,” Diana said. “Did you find what you required on your shopping expedition?”

  “Indeed, I did, and then I wrote a long letter, and now I am ready for my drive with Mr Pavlov, as you see.”

  “You always like to be busy,” Diana said. “You never rest as I do in the day.”

  “No, but my constitution is a little more robust than yours, my dear.”

  Clinton came into the room. “Lady Somerton and Lady Cranbourne await your pleasure, my lady.”

  Diana rose gracefully to her feet. “I shall be there directly, Clinton. Thank you.”

  The eyes she turned to Eleanor had a hint of mischief in them. “How provoking. I wished to catch a glimpse of this Mr Pavlov. Is he your latest admirer?”

  “No, I don’t think he is,” Eleanor said reflectively. “He is rather a new friend.”

  Diana lost interest. “Oh, I see. Well, enjoy your afternoon.”

  Eleanor was not at all sure she would. Mr Pavlov had seemed bright and amusing when she first met him, but today he seemed pre-occupied and distant, and after they had exchanged a few pleasantries, he lapsed into silence. He at first drove towards Hyde Park but when they came to the entrance, he turned his horses and drove away from it.

  “Are you taking me home already?” Eleanor asked. “Has five minutes more in my company convinced you I can be of no use to you after all?”

  He glanced down at her, his eyes reminding Eleanor of a troubled sea. “Forgive me, Miss Edgcott. I am poor company, I know. It suddenly struck me that I could not bear to join the throng of people in the park, to have to put on a display of urbane politeness, and perhaps see… see people I would rather not. Would you mind if we just drove about Town for a while?”

  “Not a bit. But I thought we had established a certain honesty between us at our first meeting, yet I do not think you are being perfectly honest now, sir. Are you afraid to come across someone in the park, or are you afraid that someone in the park will see you with me?”

  He smiled ruefully. “And at our first meeting, I said you were acute! Both!”

  “Ah,” Eleanor said, smiling, “then it is a lady who has induced this strange mood of abstraction in you. She is I assume, the reason you wish to remain in London at present?”

  Mr Pavlov’s countenance sobered again.

  “Yes, I had thought… but I was mistaken… or at least I think I was…”

  Eleanor laughed. “I may be acute, but I cannot help you with so little to go on, you know.”

  “I am not sure anyone can help me,” he said.

  “Try me,” Eleanor said, encouragingly. “I do not like to see you so downcast.”

  He glanced down at her, the glimmer of a smile in his eyes. “Why do I have the feeling that you will badger me until I do unbutton my lip, Miss Edgcott?”

  “I shall not,” Eleanor said gently. “But might I suggest that your troubles may not weigh so heavily upon you if you share them? You do not need to mention names, after all.”

  “Very well,” he said, before falling again into a ponderous silence.

  Eleanor looked about her and realised she was in a part of town she did not recognise. She leant forwards to see past Mr Pavlov as they passed a pair of tall gates that opened onto a large courtyard surrounded by elegant buildings.

  “What is that place?”

  “The Foundling Hospital,” he said absently as if his thoughts were far away.

  She would have liked to discover more about the institution they had just passed but sensed this was not the time.

  “Mr Pavlov?” she said gently when he still made no attempt to unburden himself. “Perhaps it would help if you started before you met this lady. Did you come straight to London after visiting your uncle?”

  “No. After my uncle made it clear that he did not want me hanging around his neck, I went to visit my mother’s sister. My mother had spoken fondly of my aunt Jemima and both her welcome and that of her husband was all I could have wished it to be. They have never been blessed with children and said that they would give me a home and that I could help Uncle Silas with his business. He is a successful coal merchant with warehouses in Newcastle.”

  “You felt such a position beneath you, perhaps?”

  “No, but I knew my father would not approve. He had given me a letter of introduction for the Lievens and I thought I should at least make a push to follow his wishes, but to be honest, I know more about farming than I do about diplomacy. Then I met a girl in the park, no, an angel in the park, not long after I arrived in Town. At first, it was her beauty that drew me to her, but it was her modesty and the gentleness of her nature that made me fall in love with her.”

  “And does she not return your regard?”

  “I thought that she might. We had very little opportunity for private speech whenever I called on her, but the way her hand trembled in mine when I greeted her, the gentle look in her eyes when they rested on me, encouraged me to think she looked favourably on me.” He frowned. “But it seems I have fallen out of favour. She has not been at home to visitors the last few times I have called, and when I rode in the park in the hope of seeing her, her aunt pret
ended not to have seen me and hurried away with her.”

  “And did the lady you love pretend not to see you?”

  “No. That is why I am still not entirely certain of where I stand. She sent a look of apology over her shoulder.”

  “I see,” Eleanor said thoughtfully. “And what is it that has caused you to fall out of favour, do you think?”

  “My circumstances,” he said flatly. “Her aunt seemed impressed that I was the son of a count, at first. But when she eventually enquired a little more closely into my circumstances, she turned cold. I can hardly blame her; I am not in a position to easily provide for a wife.”

  “But you are not without patronage or prospects. If your uncle Silas is prepared to take you in as one of his family and train you up in his trade, might they not also accept your wife into their home? Or is their house too small?”

  “No. It is quite grand. But the fact remains they are in trade. And the aunt of Miss F—, I mean the girl who has captured my heart, is a lady.” He grimaced. “In name at least. I am fairly certain that she married above her station, but as she has rented an uncomfortable house in Castle Street, I must assume that she is not very plump in the pocket.”

  Eleanor looked at him intently. “I believe it is Miss Finchley you have fallen head over heels in love with, Mr Pavlov.”

  He looked at her in some surprise. “You know her? Then you will understand. Is she not the sweetest lady?”

  “Oh, yes,” Eleanor agreed. “I had some conversation with her only this morning.”

  “How did she seem, ma’am?” he asked eagerly.

  “She seemed as downcast as you,” Eleanor said with a small smile. “Perhaps I now understand why.”

  Mr Pavlov latched onto her words like a drowning man clutching at a stick. “Could it be… dare I to hope… that is, do you think she might feel our separation as much as I?”

  “That I cannot yet tell,” Eleanor said truthfully. “But she was certainly twitching about something. And I must say, that if you can achieve a good position in your uncle’s business, I cannot think that your circumstances would make you at all ineligible. Miss Finchley is the daughter of an apothecary, which does not put her out of your reach.”