by Sahara Kelly
“Later, my sweet. If you can be patient, I might be tempted to let you tug it down as far as you want…”
He missed a step.
Maud smiled.
Chapter Six
T
he refinished ballroom was a complete success in Judith’s eyes.
And in others, apparently, since word had spread that a Wednesday club meeting would be held the following week, and Lady Maud was not put to the trouble of sending out invitations. On the contrary, notes were flying in every day begging for admittance.
“Are we going to have to issue vouchers?” Judith asked over breakfast one morning.
“Lord, I hope not,” answered Maud. “No, I’d rather keep it as informal as we can, while maintaining the balance of men to women.” She sighed. “And that is proving harder to accomplish, since it would seem all the Mamas in town wish their daughters to attend. I’m not sure I know that many eligible gentlemen…”
“It is called the Wednesday Club, is it not?” Judith tilted her head to one side in thought. “How about offering memberships? The proceeds could go to charity if you wished to charge, or they could just be available for the asking. Vetted carefully by you and his Lordship, of course…”
Lady Maud put down her teacup and stared across the table. “D’you know that’s a very good idea indeed.” She nodded. “I’ll ask Laurence for some help; he will be able to offer guidance as to the distribution.”
“Perhaps it could be restricted to single persons,” mused Judith. “That eliminates any fuss about married ladies being indiscreet, or married gentlemen misbehaving.”
“You’re a fount of wonderful ideas this morning.” Lady Maud looked at the scone on Judith’s plate. “What’s in those? I must ask Hobson.”
Since the man himself walked in with a fresh pot of tea at that moment, he paused. “A question, your Ladyship? How may I help?”
“Tell me what’s in those scones, Hobson. And you can bring me one if you would. Miss Judith has been having the most marvellous ideas this morning after just one of them.”
Hobson raised an eyebrow. “I will, of course, be happy to provide your Ladyship with a scone. I would be remiss, however, if I did not mention that Miss Judith has always seemed to be full of excellent notions. Perhaps that fact has escaped your Ladyship’s notice? I would not wish you to be disappointed should the scone not produce the desired result…” He presented Maud with a plate containing a scone, a pat of butter and a large spoonful of her favourite blackcurrant jam.
“Thank you, Hobson,” blushed Judith. “I am most honoured.”
“And thank you for the scone, you rascal. I believe you insulted me just then, but I shall have to review our conversation before I’m positive.”
“Of course, Ma’am.” He bowed. “One does one’s best.”
His exit was a thing of beauty.
“I swear I shall shoot him one day. I’d have done it already, but he is so valuable. I cannot imagine either Sir Laurence or myself surviving without our Hobson.”
Judith grinned and finished her tea.
“Plans for today?” asked Maud, buttering her scone.
“I am going to Hookham’s with Lydia, Ivy and Rose. We’re planning on selecting a book, reading it, and then getting together to talk about it.
“Oh, how lovely. Almost a kind of club for readers?”
“Well, not really. I mean we probably won’t have regular meetings or anything, it’s just that I mentioned how much I liked the books that have come from the pen of someone known as a Lady, and even the Prince Regent is enamoured of them, I hear.”
“And the others haven’t read them? No idea who the author might be?”
Judith shook her head. “Lydia has. She’s read just about everything. But since there are rumours that the author in question has died, we might well expect to learn her identity shortly. And obviously there will be no more lovely stories.” She sighed. “Very sad.”
“Well, if her novels lead you four and others to the library, she has left a commendable legacy. So there is a bright side.” Maud touched her napkin to her lips. “Have you seen much of Matthew and Sir Ragnor recently?”
The casual question made Judith tingle. “They have been in attendance now and again.” She kept her voice every bit as casual. “They met us after a shopping trip and took us to tea. I believe I mentioned it?”
“Probably. You’ll have to forgive me. This dratted ballroom restoration has occupied far too many of my thoughts.”
“I quite understand. And it is certainly worth it. What an amazing room. I can’t wait to see it filled with dancers.”
“You will next Wednesday. Which reminds me. We need to look at your gown choices…”
A happy notion for both women, which took them to Judith’s chamber and her now better-stocked wardrobe.
“I do like you in lilac,” murmured Lady Maud. “It brings out your colours…”
“Or this sea blue,” Judith touched the skirts of a very pretty dress; soft lawn striped with that shade.
“Hmm. I shall think on it. You must prepare for your trip to the library, so I will leave you to it. Have fun and extend my regards to the other young ladies?” Maud smiled. “You may reassure them that they are all on the invitation list for next week.” She casually brushed a lock of hair away from Judith’s cheek. “As are Matthew and Sir Ragnor, of course.”
“Ah. I…er…I’ll make sure they know.”
The cheek heated beneath Lady Maud’s gentle touch. But she just nodded and left the room while Judith castigated herself for her betraying blush.
Why did the mention of that dratted man’s name cause a reaction?
She fastened her hair and slid into her wool spencer, buttoning it up absently as she stared at herself in the mirror.
Sir Ragnor embodied all the attributes of a Corinthian. He was always top-of-the-trees in manner and garb, quietly but perfectly presented. His lineage wasn’t royal, but it was acceptable…along with his fortune, which she’d heard described as most comfortable. His lifestyle would endorse that statement. He doubtless rode the finest horses and did everything with aplomb and that touch of superior arrogance—a distinguishing feature of only the greatest families.
Judith snorted at herself and turned away from the mirror. The catalogue of virtues she had just mentally assigned to Sir Ragnor contained almost everything she disliked about Society.
And yet…and yet this one particular gentleman had managed to insert himself into her thoughts far too often.
She shrugged. This was her first visit to the Metropolis. She’d not met any other gentlemen of note; certainly not eligible partis. Thus her fascination with Sir Ragnor. Was he a rake? Possibly, depending on one’s definition. It was rumoured he had mistresses, but then again, what gentleman didn’t? And at no time had she felt unsafe or nervous around him.
Well, nervous perhaps, but those were different kinds of nerves. They were the ones that tingled from the back of her neck down her body to…places that she had no business even thinking about.
Picking up her reticule, she left her room and marched downstairs, determined to enjoy the morning with her friends. And not think of Ragnor Withersby at all.
*~~*~~*
“Fairhurst?” An older lady lifted one finger to her lips and tapped them, deep in thought. “From the Surrey Fairhursts?”
“I have no idea, Aunt.” Sir Ragnor sat comfortably in a massively overstuffed chair in his aunt’s parlour. One ankle rested on the other knee and he stared at the dear lady as she dug through her mind for some point of reference.
“Well, the Surrey Fairhursts are decently respectable,” she nodded. “Don’t see ‘em in town much now though. One was in Parliament some time ago. Not filthy-rich, but certainly comfortable. Got a place near Haslemere if I recall correctly. Bit stuck-up, I think.”
“I heard mention of an estate called Fivetrees?”
“Hmm.” Lady Wilhemina, Baroness Withersby, took ano
ther moment. “Don’t know it. But…” she snapped her fingers, “wait. Now I remember. This spring. Bit of a to-do. Some chap got himself killed…I think it was in Hampshire somewhere. And you know?” She widened her eyes and stared at her nephew. “I believe it was a Fairhurst.”
Ragnor frowned. “Killed? How?”
“Poison, ‘twas rumoured at the time.”
Ragnor shook his head. “How you hear rumours from that far away mystifies me.”
“How I remember ‘em mystifies me,” she chuckled. “Don’t ask me what we dined on last night, because I’ll wager I can’t remember that at all.”
He grinned. “I won’t. But seriously, Aunt. Murder?”
“Not sure. I reckon it was kept quiet. And as I said, the Fairhursts aren’t in Society anymore.”
“Shouldn’t the family be in mourning?”
“Who says they’re not?” Her grey eyebrow quirked upward.
“Well, there’s this young lady…”
“Aha.” The Baroness sat up so straight Ragnor swore he could hear her spine cracking into line. “I knew there was a woman involved…tell me everything.”
“No,” he answered with a grin.
“Spoilsport.” She grinned back. “But just let me say I’m happy to hear you have met a young lady you’re interested in enough to inquire about.”
“Terrible grammar, Aunt.”
She ignored the comment. “A Fairhurst, I take it?”
He nodded. “Yes. Judith Fairhurst. She’s in town under the aegis of the Sydenhams. Living with them. She has a guardian, apparently, but not in town.”
“If Maud is housing her, then the gel is acceptable, you can rely on that. Although,” she paused, “perhaps not Almack’s quality. I’ve heard rumours about this club the Sydenhams are hosting. On Wednesdays.”
“Yes?”
“Well it’s obvious, darling. Or it will be in the spring. She’s setting up to give Almack’s a bit of a race.”
Ragnor blinked. “She won’t win, of course.”
“She doesn’t have to.” His aunt grinned. “Just think of all the eligible young ladies and gentlemen who don’t have vouchers for those hallowed chambers.”
It was Ragnor’s turn to pause. “Damned if you’re not right, Aunt. I never really thought about it from that perspective.”
“And I doubt she needs to win, as you put it. All she has to do is be a success. Her rooms will be filled every Wednesday night.”
“I went to the first one,” he admitted. “That’s where I met Miss Judith. It was…different. Not like Almack’s at all.”
“You mean decent food?”
He choked out a laugh. “Well, yes. Certainly much better quality. No dancing, because they didn’t have their ballroom prepared yet. But the company was most pleasant, and there were various games available. Nothing improper of course, but chess boards, backgammon…even some instruments lay waiting for someone to strike up a tune.”
“Clever,” smiled his aunt. “Maud always was a sharp one. Little too sharp for her own good. I always thought that’s why she never received vouchers herself. Can’t even remember who the Patronesses were, back then, but they never gave Maud a voucher.”
“Well, she is still good Ton, Aunt. You can’t deny that.”
“Oh, I don’t. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was on the list of potential future Patronesses, to be honest. She and Laurence Sydenham have every single requirement for that position checked off. Status, money, reputation…it’s all there. They’ve built themselves into a pretty powerful Society couple.”
“And yet here she is, with the Wednesday club.”
“And Miss Fairhurst.”
“Yes, Aunt. As you say. Miss Fairhurst.” He rolled his eyes. “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned her, should I? I’ll never hear the last of it now.”
The Baroness shook her head. “You kissed the gel yet?”
He rolled his eyes. “Even if I had I wouldn’t tell you.”
“I’ll take that as a no. If you’re interested, you should try her out.”
“Good God, she’s not a horse…” Ragnor nearly choked.
“I meant,” sighed his aunt, “that you should kiss her. See if there’s a spark there. And ask yourself if it’s a big enough spark to grow into anything hot enough to consume you.”
“Er…”
“I mean it, Ragnor.” She shook her lorgnette at him. “Withersbys need to love without restraint. Passionate lot, we are. Comes from the Viking in us.”
“Oh Lord, here it comes,” grinned Ragnor. “So I should plunder and pillage Miss Fairhurst?”
She grinned back. “Sounds about right to me. But never forget that some sparks can grow into mighty and warming fires. Others just fizzle out like a damp squib. We Withersbys need those mighty fires, Ragnor. Nothing less.” She sighed. “Don’t forget…”
“…Erik Withersby. Yes, I was wondering when he’d pop into our conversation.”
“Don’t be cheeky.” She glared at him. “He was your great-great-er-something or other. Married a damp squib. Ended up fathering five children by another woman and ruining his branch of the Withersby family tree. Damn near had to lop it off. He had a lot of the Viking in him…”
“Yes, dearest Aunt, you’ve told me many times,” he nodded. “I promise. No damp squibs for me.”
“Then get busy kissing her. That’s the first step. Then you’ll know.”
He looked at her, curiosity rampant in his brain. “How? How will I know?”
A slow smile curved her lips, and for a brief moment Ragnor saw the stunning beauty of the woman she had once been as it shone through soft wrinkles and greying hair. “It’s a feeling, lad. Somewhere inside you. You’ll know. Trust me.”
“I do.” He rose and took her hand. “And I love you dearly. All I want to find is a woman like you, and I will be very happy.”
“Oh, pshaw.” She snorted. “Go on with you. And mind what I say. Kiss her. And soon.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” He pressed his lips to her knuckles. “And if she slaps me, I’ll tell her you told me to do it.”
She snickered. “Do it right, and there’ll be no need,” she shot back.
He sighed. “I can never get the last word with you, can I?”
“No.” She shooed him off. “Go away.”
He laughed his farewell, the warmth his dear aunt always engendered lingering in his heart. She was the only one of his family he cared for, and his affections were deep and rooted in the knowledge that she truly loved him.
Leaving her house, he took the reins of his horse from the groom and turned toward the centre of town. He had word that Hookham’s Library would be visited by a certain group of young ladies today. So in order to obey his aunt’s direction, he had to find one of them.
And kiss her.
He discovered he was rather looking forward to it.
Chapter Seven
H ookham’s Circulating Library was located on Old Bond Street, not far from the Sydenham residence. So Judith and a maid strolled the short distance, arriving just in time to meet her friends on the doorstep of this august establishment.
There were greetings, smiles and affectionate embraces as all four walked inside, leaving the maids to find a seat and wait until their business was concluded.
“So what are we going to borrow, Lydia?” Ivy ran her fingers along shelves filled with a variety of titles.
“Yes, Lydia, any thoughts?” Judith followed Ivy, pulling a book free here and there, showing it to Rose, and then returning it.
“Well,” said Lydia conspiratorially, “Follow me.”
Strolling at an unremarkable pace, she led her friends down past an assortment of shelves until they reached a quiet corner, with a window admitting light and chairs for weary readers. It was empty—quite deserted, in fact. Judith wasn’t surprised, since the subject matter of the tomes surrounding them seemed to centre on various species of gnats.
“We’re here for a reas
on, aren’t we?” observed Rose. “And it’s probably not insect research…”
“You are correct on both suppositions,” grinned Lydia. “Have any of you heard of the Cytherean Tales?”
Rose gasped. “By Lady Corinth?” she whispered, her eyes wide.
“Yes, that’s the one,” answered Lydia.
“But that’s…that’s…”
“That’s what?” asked Judith curiously.
Lydia glanced around, ensure the coast was clear, then beckoned her friends closer. “It’s quite a shocking book about a certain house.”
Rose frowned. “A brothel, isn’t it?” she whispered.
Lydia shook her head. “Not exactly. I’m told it’s about a house where the women are in control. Where they choose their gentlemen, not the other way around.”
“Ooh.” There were simultaneous gasps from three of the girls.
“I doubt that one is on the shelves, Lydia,” said Judith. “And even if it was, I wouldn’t have the nerve to ask for it.”
“No, it’s not. But Matthew has requested a copy. He’s going to let me read it.” Lydia grinned. “I am going to share. With you all.”
“Oh my,” Ivy gulped. “Are we quite ready for this, do you think?”
“I am,” said Rose, with a determined nod. “We’re all going to be fodder for potential husbands, if we’re not already. And do any of us have the slightest inkling about what that means?”
They shook their heads unanimously.
“You’re absolutely right. And heaven forbid we try to ask anyone about it. You’d think we’d declared our intent to rush out to the nearest a barn and seduce a stable boy.” Ivy sighed.
“Who did you ask?” Judith couldn’t help but smile.
“My sister. And she’s married. You’d think she’d share something…but no. She claimed I was much too young and when the time came, Mama or my husband would tell me all I needed to know.”
“What rot,” said Lydia. “Er, with no disrespect to your sister, Ivy, but still.”
“I know,” Ivy answered. “I told her that. She flounced off in a huff and didn’t speak to me for a week.”