The Makings of a Lady

by Catherine Tinley

  ‘And the neighbours have been so civil and so concerned. We have had a visit from Mrs Turner, who came to fetch Amy. They are to call again later in the week and they can see for themselves that you are up and about.’ She frowned. ‘Although...perhaps you should go for a lie-down later. You are likely to tire quickly on your first day out of bed.’

  Olivia felt a stab of disappointment. ‘But I have chafed at being confined to my room!’

  Charlotte took her hand. ‘You are not confined and it is entirely up to you. But...’ She hesitated. ‘Mr and Mrs Foxley, and their guests, plan to call this afternoon. Now you know how much I love my cousin Faith—if it was just her, then I would have no hesitation. But all five of them are likely to arrive. Including Mr Manning and his sister, and my Aunt Buxted.’

  ‘Ah, I see what you mean.’ The thought of facing an interrogation by Mrs Buxted was rather daunting. ‘Well, if I become tired, I shall simply excuse myself.’

  * * *

  ‘Dear, dear Lady Olivia!’ Mrs Buxted held Olivia’s hand in a vice-like grip. ‘I was so upset when I heard what had occurred! Utterly hysterical, I tell you!’

  Olivia was not sure how to respond. Murmuring a polite thank you, she gently extricated her hand. She had already greeted Mr and Mrs Foxley, so that only left the Mannings. Miss Manning offered a gloved hand, murmuring simply, ‘Most dreadful.’ Olivia was relieved that the woman had not made more of it.

  George Manning was last to address her. He lifted her hand and kissed it, then held on to it. ‘I am so glad you are well. I cannot tell you how anxious I was during your disappearance.’ His brown eyes seared into hers, his expression one of absolute sincerity.

  Conscious that people might be watching, Olivia tried to remove her hand, but his grip tightened. He lowered his voice, so that only she might hear. ‘Lady Olivia, I was distraught. I barely slept that night. Knowing that you were in danger—’ He broke off, but not before she had seen tears form in his eyes. Olivia was a little taken aback. Men did not usually appear so emotional. He must have genuinely been concerned. Berating herself inwardly for her uncharitable thoughts, she put her other hand on top of his.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Manning. I truly appreciate your concern.’

  She frowned. Something strange had happened. George was just as handsome, just as charming as he had been, yet Olivia felt exactly nothing when she looked at him now. In fact, she was struggling to understand how she had been attracted to George. So much had changed, so quickly.

  Adam came to shake George’s hand and welcome him back to Chadcombe and so, with seeming reluctance, he let Olivia go. They all stood around engaging in informal chats, until the tea arrived.

  Surprisingly, Jem chose to sit with George. Olivia remembered the antagonism between them, made worse, she sensed, by Mr Manning’s having irritated the other men during her kidnap. Under cover of nibbling on some cake, she tried to hear what they were talking about.

  ‘I was with the Light Infantry, under Colborne,’ George was saying.

  ‘Ah, the Light Bobs! You saw plenty of action that day then.’

  Waterloo! They were talking of their time in the army. Straining her ears to try to hear more, Olivia was distracted by Mrs Buxted, who came to sit beside her.

  ‘Now, dear Lady Olivia, you must tell me everything!’

  Olivia inhaled and promptly choked on a cake crumb. By the time she had coughed and recovered, and taken a drink, Mrs Foxley had come to join them.

  ‘My dear Faith, I was just asking dear Lady Olivia to tell me all about her dreadful, dreadful ordeal.’

  Olivia sent Faith a wordless appeal. Faith looked evenly at her. The exchange was entirely missed by Mrs Buxted.

  ‘Well, Mama,’ said Faith, ‘I’m sure it is best for Lady Olivia not to speak of such things!’

  That was exactly what Olivia needed. ‘Thank you for your concern, Mrs Buxted...’ Olivia smiled politely to soften the blow of her refusal ‘...but Faith is right. I have been advised not to dwell on it.’

  Mrs Buxted pursed her lips. ‘Well, I’m sure I don’t know about that! Still...’ she brightened, as another thought occurred to her ‘...if you are resolved to put it behind you, I hope that means you will attend the Monkton Park ball in two weeks. It will be Faith’s first ball as hostess and I am determined to make it a great success!’

  Faith shook her head, her face creased with anxiety. ‘Oh, no, Mama! You know we said we must cancel the ball, after what happened to Lady Olivia!’

  Mrs Buxted’s eyes widened. ‘But Lady Olivia has decided to be well! She can have no objection.’

  Olivia found herself, surprisingly, in agreement with Mrs Buxted. ‘Faith, please do not change your plans on my account. Why, we so rarely have the opportunity for a ball here that I would feel very guilty if it were to be cancelled on my account!’

  Faith looked dubious. ‘It does not feel appropriate to be pressing ahead with plans for a celebration when you were so recently taken from your family in such a way!’

  ‘But that is over now. I am well—or, at least, I will be well by then. Please do not cancel for my sake.’

  ‘There you are, Faith, it is all settled!’ pronounced her mama, with an air of finality. She raised her voice. ‘Dear friends, after discussing the situation with Lady Olivia, my daughter has decided to go ahead with the Monkton Park ball!’

  Faith gasped. There was a murmur of reaction around the room. Most people seemed pleased. Olivia quickly scanned the faces. Mr Foxley looked surprised—as well he might. Oh, dear!

  Eventually, the visitors rose and made their farewells. George kissed her hand again and told her how much he was looking forward to dancing with her at the ball. Olivia was completely unmoved.

  * * *

  The next day, Olivia made the effort to come down for breakfast at the usual time. She had not slept well, her dreams punctuated by nebulous threats and feelings of fear and panic. Twice she had woken in alarm, with vivid nightmares where she was running from an unseen pursuer. Knowing it was pointless trying to sleep again immediately afterwards, she lit her candle and read for a while, till her eyelids drooped and she felt she had a reasonable chance of dropping off.

  Ideally, she knew she should stay in bed and sleep again until she felt rested, but the opportunity to spend some time in company was too important to miss. So she donned a simple white muslin dress with a pink ribbon, grabbed an Indian shawl and went downstairs. She was becoming quite accustomed to wearing her hair down and had plaited it herself this morning.

  ‘Good morning.’ Jem was tucking into some eggs and ham, but rose when she entered the room. Adam was the only other person there, apart from the footmen, who were busy bringing dishes and serving the food. Adam remained seated—there was no formality among family members. Olivia waved Jem to sit. ‘Do, pray, stay seated. You should not stand on ceremony with me, Jem!’

  ‘Yes, Jem,’ agreed Adam. ‘Why, we should make you an honorary Fanton!’

  He was jesting, but Jem’s smile in reaction was strangely rueful. Olivia looked at him in puzzlement as she took the seat opposite him. He looked fine—looked ravishingly attractive, in fact, although there was a small crease at his brow.

  He glanced at her. ‘Did you sleep well?’

  About to lie, she saw his raised eyebrow and thought better of it. ‘Not really—though it was better than the previous two nights. I only awoke twice. How about you two? I am aware that, although I was at the centre of the drama, this has been difficult for everyone.’

  ‘I slept quite well,’ said Adam, wiping his mouth with his napkin, ‘once I got to sleep. I tossed and turned for a while, imagining what I would do to Gunn and his unknown master if I could get a hold of them.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ agreed Jem. ‘I have the soldier’s trick of being able to sleep in any situation, but I confess that when I am awake my thoug
hts often turn in the same direction.’

  ‘I have decided to stop thinking about Gunn,’ said Olivia. She frowned. ‘I feel that, when I think about him, it makes him more important than he is. For me, it is better to think about the good things—that I escaped and that we are all safely together again.’

  Jem’s eyes smiled at her. ‘You are right—that is the most important thing. But I should still like to know who was working with Gunn and where they both are now. Have you remembered anything else?’

  ‘Unfortunately not. But—there is something I wondered about.’

  The footman served her some toast and buttered eggs, just the way she liked them. She thanked him absent-mindedly. Adam and Jem were waiting for her to elaborate.

  ‘So, you know that we are due to visit the dressmaker in Farnham on Thursday, for the final fitting for our ballgowns?’

  ‘We can get the dressmaker to come here instead,’ said Adam kindly, ‘if it would be easier for you.’

  ‘But that is not what you are going to suggest, is it?’ asked Jem, his eyes narrowing.

  She shook her head, grateful for his insight. ‘I want to go back to the tavern.’

  ‘But why?’ Adam looked astounded.

  ‘I think it would help me,’ she said simply. ‘The whole thing passed in such a blur, I can hardly recall anything.’ Jem raised an eyebrow and she felt herself blushing. Was he, too, remembering the kisses they had shared? Dropping her gaze to her food, she continued without looking at either of them. ‘And I might remember something that is useful in helping us work out who was behind it.’ She looked up. ‘I did wonder if it might be Carson.’

  ‘Why?’ Adam was watching her intently.

  ‘Gunn works for him, so it seems the most logical possibility. And when he came into the cellar that last time, he kept saying, “Check the girl. Get potatoes.” As if they were part of the same instruction.’

  Jem shook his head slightly. ‘Carson seemed genuinely not to know anything when I questioned him. And I can often spot a liar.’ As he spoke, a new expression came over his face, as if something new and blindingly obvious had just occurred to him. Adam saw it, too.

  ‘What is it, Jem? Have you just thought of something?’

  ‘Yes, but nothing to do with Carson. Something else entirely.’ He frowned. ‘I hope I am wrong, but...’

  ‘Yes?’ Adam was clearly intrigued.

  ‘Oh, nothing. Just a passing thought.’

  Her brother eyed him keenly, then nodded, seemingly content to trust Jem to reveal his thoughts at another time. ‘Now, about Farnham. Are you sure, Olivia, that you want to do this?’

  ‘Quite sure. I survived the journey back to Chadcombe, with the immediate aftermath of my abduction still affecting my heart and head. I am a hundred times better now than I was then.’

  Adam shook his head. ‘I think that you are not so well as you believe yourself to be. Would you wait until next week and go then?’

  That was a fair compromise—and was presented as a question, rather than an order. Was Adam finally allowing her to make her own decisions—even when he did not agree with her? ‘Very well. We shall need to let Amy know and send a note to the dressmaker.’

  Adam had no interest in the details. ‘Excellent.’ He pushed his chair out and rose. ‘If you will excuse me, my steward awaits.’

  After he left, Olivia and Jem continued their breakfast in companionable conversation, the presence of the servants having a calming effect on Olivia’s nerves. They were not alone—had not been alone since that kiss in the cottage doorway.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they both finished their meal.

  He looked at her. Olivia held her breath. ‘Are you well enough to take a turn about the gardens today?’ he asked, his tone light and nonchalant.

  She forced herself to speak calmly. ‘Of course. I shall meet you in the hall in a few minutes.’

  * * *

  The day was cool, so Olivia donned her warm redingote. Picking up her bonnet, she placed it carefully on her head. Her wound was healing nicely and, although it still hurt a little, the bonnet was too pretty to be dispensed with. She tied the ribbons under her right ear and checked herself in the mirror.

  She could see both excitement and anxiety in her eyes. How many times had she put on a bonnet to go walk in the gardens? Yet never before had she felt like this!

  He kissed me! she told herself in the mirror. She smiled at her reflection, before adopting a stern look and wagging her finger at her own image. Now, do not assume that he will do it again! Just because you are about to be alone with him...

  Oh, she knew that she ought to be careful, but strangely, the thought of being alone with him caused such giddiness that her sensible self was entirely vanquished. She felt like she was eighteen all over again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Although the day was cool and breezy, there was no sign of more rain. They turned towards the rose garden, chatting idly about trivial things.

  ‘Lady Shalford has missed breakfast again, I noticed.’

  Olivia frowned. ‘Yes, her baby will come in the next couple of weeks.’

  ‘Are you worrying about her?’

  ‘Charlotte has, as you know, lost three babes so far, so we are all a little worried.’

  ‘Perfectly understandable.’ His instincts told him there was something more. ‘It seems to me that you are, perhaps, more worried about her than anyone else is.’

  She looked at him, then seemed to come to a decision. ‘It is true that the others are reassured—they think that the risk of losing the child has passed, but—’ She bit her lip.

  Jem waited.

  ‘My mama died in childbirth and her baby, too. No one would tell me what happened, but I remember well the grief and the fear, and how everyone was changed by losing her. I worry that something terrible will happen to Charlotte.’

  His eyes softened. ‘I cannot offer you any comfort, much as I would wish to. We all know that tragedies sometimes happen during birth.’

  ‘But what if she needs me to be strong? And what if my fears make me weak? I should hate to let her down.’

  ‘I think you should see yourself as I—as we all see you. During your recent ordeal, you were stronger than any young lady could be expected to be. Why, you could not even wait long enough for someone to rescue you, you insisted on freeing yourself from captivity!’

  She shook her head. ‘It is different, somehow. When I think of childbirth, I freeze inside. I fear I will be of no use to Charlotte when her time comes.’

  ‘I believe you are much stronger than you think.’

  She shook her head, but did not argue.

  Although pleased she had confided in him, Jem was at a loss as to how best to reassure her further. How could she not see how strong and capable she was? He felt unusually hesitant. Strange that she unnerved him more than anyone ever had.

  Underneath their conversation, part of him was still wondering what she thought now about the kisses they had shared. Yes, she had responded at the time with great enthusiasm but, he reminded himself sternly, she had just escaped from the cellar and had been overjoyed to see a friendly face. He could not assume that she held him in any particular affection—had she not made it crystal-clear that what she sought from him was friendship?

  And then there was George Manning, who had, he judged, already succeeded in dazzling both Olivia and Lizzie. He had noted Olivia’s continued conversations with Manning, seen how she had smiled at him.

  He had to face facts. The man was clearly in pursuit of her.

  Is he a liar? thought Jem. As my instincts tell me? Or is it simply that I dislike his interest in Olivia and have allowed that to colour my opinion?

  He almost felt ashamed of his own uncharitable thoughts. Almost. Was it not his duty as a gentleman to look after th
e young ladies, including his own sister, and protect them from a Captain Sharp? If Manning was, in fact, not what he seemed, then, as a good brother, he should find him out.

  He had always had an instinct for spotting a liar. At breakfast this morning, when he should have been considering whether Carson had been involved in Olivia’s abduction, instead he had suddenly realised that there was something about Manning that did not ring true.

  Up until now, he had been distracted by the fact that he disliked the man and the way he had been wheedling both Olivia and Lizzie—ammunition enough, were it needed, to hold him in disdain. But this was something more. He now had the feeling that Manning’s charm was a calculated act and that he was up to something.

  He shook his head ruefully. Manning wanted Olivia. It was clear as day. And that fact alone meant that Jem was unable to be objective about him. He must be careful not to paint the man a villain just because he wanted Olivia’s interest in him to end.

  ‘You are very quiet.’ Olivia’s voice was small and uncertain. Her hand still rested in his arm and Jem realised with surprise that they had walked all the way to the end of the rose garden.

  ‘Forgive me!’ he said. ‘I was wool-gathering.’

  ‘About anything in particular?’ She would not meet his eyes.

  Oh, Lord! Once again, he reminded himself that this was the first time they had been alone together since he had kissed her. She was probably feeling uncertain and conflicted—especially given her interest in Manning. He made haste to try to reassure her.

  ‘No, just nonsense. I apologise if I seemed distant. I...er... I think I must travel up to London as I have some matters of business to see to.’

  ‘Oh.’ She sounded disappointed. ‘But you will be back in time for the ball?’

  ‘Of course. It would not be the same unless I can dance with you, my dear friend.’ He glanced at her. She looked confused and unsure. He frowned. ‘Though—only if you wish to dance with me.’