The Makings of a Lady

by Catherine Tinley

  Mrs Buxted erupted forward in a wave of effusiveness. ‘Oh, my dear Lady Shalford! I said—did I not say, Faith?—that Charlotte would not be one to keep to her room for weeks on end! Depend upon it, I said, if we visit today we shall likely see Lady Shalford in her drawing room—this very room! But I am always right! Did I not say so, Faith?’

  Faith opened her mouth to speak, but Mrs Buxted’s attention had already moved on. ‘And here is the dear little creature! What a sturdy-looking child!’ She approached the baby with a great deal of energy and Priddy visibly stiffened. ‘No, I shan’t take him! Strangely, although I am the most doting of mamas, I never really took to them when they were very small like that. Henrietta is just the same—she has a veritable army of nurses looking after hers! Once they can converse and one’s friends can admire their looks and their intelligence, then children become much more interesting. At this stage all they ever do is cry and sleep—all rather tedious really!’

  Olivia realised she was holding her breath. Thankfully, the baby showed no signs of waking, but Charlotte’s brow was creased. Realising that something ought to be done, she summoned her courage and spoke. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Buxted, Faith.’

  Lizzie curtsied and Faith, after murmuring her own greetings, moved forward to share a gentle hug with Charlotte.

  There was no escape. Charlotte resumed her seat and reached out for her baby. Priddy gently passed him to his mother and retired to a hard chair in the corner, where she sat knitting and looking fierce. Faith and Mrs Buxted sat either side of Charlotte, to exclaim over the baby’s size and what they said was a clear resemblance to his grandfather.

  Mrs Buxted then turned her attention to Olivia and Lizzie. ‘Well, and are you looking forward to the ball?’

  ‘Indeed we are,’ said Lizzie, ‘only two more days to wait! And Mrs Foxley has kindly invited us to stay the night and to come early for dinner.’

  Faith smiled. ‘Well, of course I did. I could not have my dearest friends travelling home in the night, when I could so easily offer you hospitality. Miss Ford, will your brother be there, do you think?’

  Olivia’s heart leapt. Just the mention of Jem did surprising things to her!

  ‘He hopes to return in time,’ confirmed Lizzie.

  ‘I suspect that Miss Turner will feel much better if he is there to dance with her,’ said Faith with a smile.

  Mrs Buxted tittered. ‘I see a match there—Mr Ford and Miss Turner. Such handsome children they will make! Depend upon it, I am never wrong with these things!’

  Olivia’s fingernails were digging into her palms.

  ‘Oh, no, Mama,’ said Faith weakly. ‘Why, he was simply being kind in teaching her the dances.’

  Mrs Buxted snorted. ‘When you have lived on this earth as long as I have,’ she pronounced, ‘you will learn to see the difference between a young man who is being kind and a young man in love!’

  In love! The words seared into Olivia’s brain, freezing all thought for a moment. Jem, in love with Amy! But it was me he kissed, Olivia reminded herself. He would not pursue two ladies at the same time.

  ‘Charlotte, such a pity that you will miss the ball!’ chuckled Mrs Buxted. She turned to the others. ‘Of course Charlotte cannot go to the ball while she is still confined, though after that she will be free to do as she pleases!’

  ‘I intend to live quietly here at Chadcombe for the foreseeable future,’ Charlotte affirmed, lifting her chin a little.

  ‘Hmm, well, you young things will do what you fancy, I suppose.’ Mrs Buxted shook her head sadly. ‘In my day we could not wait to be free of the confinement and take up our social lives again.’ She eyed Charlotte piercingly. ‘You have a wet nurse, of course?’

  Olivia stiffened. This would be trouble!

  ‘Actually, no. I am feeding him myself.’ Charlotte’s voice was clear and even.

  ‘No wet nurse? I am astounded!’ Mrs Buxted’s eyes, always slightly protuberant, seemed to bulge out of her head. ‘But—why?’

  ‘It is my preference, that is all,’ said Charlotte, shrugging. ‘Faith, how are the preparations for the ball coming along?’

  Faith responded and Olivia breathed again.

  Such a pity, she thought, that Jem is not here for this! For I would be sure to catch his eye and know that we are both thinking the same thing.

  There was an affinity between them, she thought now—a potent mix of friendship and attraction. And his kisses had given her a taste of such happiness she had only dreamed of.

  ‘...was seen lurking near the river. I am sure it is nothing, but I have asked the grooms to do a thorough search.’ Olivia’s ears pricked up—what was Faith talking about?

  ‘That is worrying indeed,’ said Charlotte. ‘I shall ask Adam to put our grooms at your disposal, in the hope that you might catch him. Is he a vagrant, do you think?’

  ‘That is what is so surprising,’ said Faith. ‘The reports we have had have described him as a large man, with serviceable clothing—not a beggar.’

  ‘Most strange,’ agreed Charlotte. ‘It may be someone visiting one of the farm workers, or seeking work.’

  ‘You are most likely right,’ said Faith, though her expression still showed concern.

  ‘Well, I for one shall not rest easy until this man is caught and removed,’ asserted Mrs Buxted with a shudder. ‘Else we shall all be murdered in our beds—you mark my words!’

  ‘Do please let us speak of more pleasant things!’ urged Olivia. ‘Like the ball, perhaps.’

  This met with approval and the next half-hour was spent in relative harmony. As she chattered and expressed her excitement, underneath Olivia’s feelings were confused. Jem might be back soon. Would he again be distant with her, or was happiness finally within reach?

  Chapter Twenty

  The first pale hints of morning seeped through the chinks in the hotel curtains. Jem stirred, turned over, then opened his eyes. Today, finally, he would return to Chadcombe and to Olivia.

  Slipping his hand under the pillow, he drew out a piece of paper. The sketch of Olivia. Carefully, he unfolded it, gazing at her image for the thousandth time this week. How well he knew the curve of her cheek, the arched brows, that mischievous look that his sister had captured so perfectly in the drawing.

  She was so damned beautiful! His feeling in this moment was not carnal, but something profoundly emotional. He was honoured to know her, grateful that he was in her life. He placed the sketch on the pillow beside him, knowing he had another hour to sleep before the hotel footman would wake him. He looked into her eyes until sleep overcame him once more.

  * * *

  ‘You look stunning, Olivia!’

  Olivia summoned a smile. ‘Thank you. And I must tell you that you look beautiful yourself, Faith. Thank you again for inviting us for dinner—on the night of your first ball, that cannot be easy.’

  ‘Oh, it is nothing,’ said Faith, airily dismissing what must be days and weeks of preparation with a wave of her hand. Like Olivia, Faith was also in blue—a dark blue silk with a paler blue overdress that emphasised her blonde prettiness.

  Dinner had just ended and the ladies had retired to the drawing room to allow the gentlemen a brief post-dinner port. Brief, because the first guests would arrive soon and Faith and her husband would stand in the hallway to greet them.

  The house looked wonderful tonight. Faith had filled it with flowers and with greenery such as normally adorned the hall and dining room at Christmastide. The scent of cut flowers wafted through the drawing room and the air of serenity among the ladies belied the frantic busyness that surely pervaded the kitchens and the ballroom, where the final touches, Faith indicated, were even now being added.

  ‘I shall go there shortly,’ said Faith, ‘to check that all is well. Do come with me if you wish!’

  Olivia was happy to comply and so a little lat
er they excused themselves from the drawing room, where the men had now rejoined the ladies. As she made to leave, Olivia was hailed, a little unexpectedly, by George Manning.

  ‘Lady Olivia! Are you leaving us? Why, I have not yet had the chance this evening to converse with you.’ Unlike the previous occasion, tonight Olivia had not been seated beside Mr Manning for dinner. Not that she had minded—she had been perfectly happy to be seated between Charles and the Reverend Fenwick.

  Olivia paused. ‘Oh! I am just going with Mrs Foxley to the ballroom. We shall return directly.’ For some reason, the look in George’s eye made Olivia a little uncomfortable—she had no idea why.

  He bowed with a flourish. ‘I pray you will return without delay. My heart cannot stand to be apart from you!’ Catching her hand, he held it and kissed it, looking up at her as he bent over her hand as if to check her reaction.

  Resisting the urge to pull her hand away, Olivia murmured something polite and joined Faith. How she wished that Mr Manning was less flowery in his flirtation with her! She did not for one moment believe that his heart was actually engaged—his eyes when he looked at her held nothing of truth. Only the game of praise and flirting, and empty compliments.

  Not for the first time, she wished he were not so particular in his attentions. She knew that she had stopped flirting with him an age ago—indeed, it was hard to recall now how she had possibly ever been attracted to him. In comparison to Jem, he now seemed florid and insincere.

  Once in the hallway, Faith opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again.

  They made their way down the wide hallway to the ballroom. Around half the size of the Chadcombe ballroom, it was nevertheless a striking room, with space for the musicians at one end and a floor big enough to accommodate twenty couples. The musicians were already there, preparing their instruments and talking quietly together. To one side, a tray of glasses stood ready for the ratafia and punch that would be on offer when the guests arrived. The two doors leading on to the terrace were open to the evening sky. Olivia knew that, once the room filled up, the room would likely become unbearably hot, so easy access to the terrace and garden was vital. The near side of the ballroom was lined with large mirrors and, as she and Faith wandered around, arms linked, they caught sight of their own reflection.

  I look sad! was Olivia’s immediate thought. Schooling her features into a more appropriate expression, she noticed Faith looking at her keenly.

  ‘I remember,’ said Faith, ‘there was a ball at Chadcombe when we visited you five years ago. Much grander than mine will be tonight. I still count it as one of the happiest times of my life.’ Olivia looked at her quizzically. ‘That was the summer when I fell in love, and discovered that he loved me, too.’

  ‘How wonderful!’ breathed Olivia. ‘Yes, of course it was! Did you dance together that night?’

  ‘Yes—the waltz. It was the first time I had danced it at an actual ball and I was surprised when Mama failed to comment at the time.’ She reflected for a moment. ‘Though I recall that her attention was fully taken up by Charlotte dancing with Adam!’

  ‘Did your mama not approve of Mr Foxley, Faith?’

  Faith made a wry face. ‘Not at all. I think she wanted me to marry Harry!’

  They both laughed at the absurdity. Faith was perfectly happy in her marriage and Harry and his Juliana were blissfully content.

  ‘I knew my own heart, you see,’ said Faith softly. ‘One cannot tell the heart what to feel. It loves where it chooses and cannot be forced to love elsewhere.’

  Tears started in Olivia’s eyes. ‘Oh, Faith, you are so right. The heart knows its work and we can only be led by its instinct.’

  Faith squeezed her hand. ‘Forgive me—I do not wish to pry—but it seems to me that you are unhappy.’

  Olivia nodded mistily.

  ‘Oh, my dear!’ Faith took her hand. Turning away from the musicians, Faith led her on to the terrace. The red glow of sunset was fading, the sky paling to a blue-white vastness.

  Faith addressed her directly. ‘May I ask you one question?’ Olivia nodded. ‘Are you in love?’

  For answer, Olivia burst into tears. The burden of hiding her feelings for so long could not withstand Faith’s kindness. Wordlessly, Faith enveloped her in a soothing hug and allowed her to cry.

  When she was able to speak again, it all came out. How her feelings had grown unexpectedly, out of what she had believed was friendship. How she had suddenly known it was love. How he had kissed her, but that she had no idea of his having any serious intent towards her. How she feared he was in love with someone else. How she had had no one to confide in, because she did not want his sister to know the truth. How she had loved him four years ago, but he had treated her as a schoolroom miss.

  At this, Faith started. ‘Four years ago? You knew him four years ago?’

  They looked at each other, realisation slowly dawning on each of their faces.

  ‘Then...’ Faith spoke slowly ‘...you are not speaking of George Manning?’

  ‘George Manning? No!’ Olivia’s shocked tone made it clear, she hoped, what she thought of that suggestion. ‘How could you think such a thing?’

  ‘I am so sorry, Olivia. But he is so gallant towards you and I should think that most young ladies would fall in love with him. I...’ Her voice tailed off.

  ‘Would you have fallen in love with him?’

  Faith looked startled for a second. ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘No, I wouldn’t. Even if I wasn’t in love with my own dear husband. Mr Manning is too...’ Her voice faded and a frown appeared on her brow.

  ‘Too exotic and too smooth,’ said Olivia bluntly.

  ‘Yes—exactly that!’ Faith placed a hand on her head. ‘Olivia, I confess I have misjudged you. I assumed that as you are so young, Mr Manning’s charm would have touched your heart.’

  Olivia snorted. ‘I might be young, but I hope my instincts are good.’ Conscious that she sounded rude, she added ‘I admire Mr Manning and I am impressed by his sacrifices in battle, but my heart, I assure you, is untouched by him.’

  ‘Then—if it is not Mr Manning...’

  Olivia waited, holding her breath.

  ‘Not Charles—you still squabble like children...’ She inhaled sharply and her eyes opened wide. ‘Jem! It’s Jem, isn’t it?’

  ‘Hush!’ Olivia glanced around, though nobody was in view.

  Faith clapped her hands in delight. ‘But this is wonderful! You and Jem will make a great match!’

  Olivia placed her hands over Faith’s, stilling her applause. She shook her head. ‘But don’t you see? There is no match. This is all in my head—in my heart. It is not real.’ Tears welled up again. ‘I have no notion of his loving me—Amy is the lady he is being linked with—even your own mama says so!’

  ‘Tosh!’ said Faith bluntly. ‘My mama is not renowned for her insight, as you well know. And you have successfully hidden your feelings from all of us. Who knows? Perhaps Jem has as well.’

  Olivia could not see any truth in this, but refrained from saying so. Behind Faith, a harassed-looking footman had appeared on the terrace. ‘I think you are needed, Faith.’

  Faith turned. ‘The first of the guests must be arriving.’ She swept Olivia into a quick, fierce hug. ‘All will be well, Olivia. I promise.’

  She left in a flurry of silk, leaving Olivia to walk slowly back to the drawing room. Jem had not come and he was probably in love with Amy anyway. This was going to be the worst ball ever.

  * * *

  ‘Faster!’ Jem rapped the roof of the carriage with his cane. Now that he was nearly there, he was becoming increasingly impatient. Recalling his previous journey to Chadcombe, he was conscious of the similarities—and the differences. As they approached the last village, he outlined them in his mind.

  Last time, he had anxiously looking forw
ard to seeing Olivia again and telling himself that his thoughts of her had been nought but fantastical dreams. He had had no idea then that he had loved her, loyally and deeply, through four years of separation. Now, it was as clear to him as breathing.

  He remembered their first conversation in the rose garden and his clumsy attempt to figure out if there was any hope of her returning his feelings. That plan had lasted no longer than it took to read her open, trusting expression. She had had no notion that he saw her as anything other than a friend.

  But things are different now. A small hopeful voice spoke in his heart.

  The kisses he had shared with her, her response to him, an indefinable feeling he had that she felt something for him—all these things did not constitute proof, but his instincts told him that it was at least possible. He smiled. He was looking forward to seeking opportunities to kiss Olivia again. The very thought of her stirred his senses in ways he could not have imagined.

  He believed also that Adam, Olivia’s guardian, had come to know him well these past weeks. He and Harry included him in all their conversations, joked with him in a relaxed way and seemed to trust him. Of course, he had not disgraced himself when Olivia was kidnapped. The fact that he had been the one to find her was nothing more than a lucky chance, but her brothers had expressed fervent gratitude towards him afterwards. In combination with his improved circumstances, the chances of Adam agreeing to a marriage between them seemed better than before. If that marriage was Olivia’s wish.

  Finally, the carriage entered the gates of Chadcombe, just as the sun was setting.

  The one flaw in my plan, thought Jem, is Manning.

  He frowned as he thought of his rival. The man had the looks and charm that many women went for and it was widely assumed that he was wealthy. But there had been—he refused to deceive himself—evidence that he and Olivia had been interested in each other. That was not true now. He found it hard to believe that Olivia was sharing similar passionate kisses with Manning as the ones she had bestowed upon him. It simply did not fit with what he knew of her. Therefore, he believed, there was at least a chance of him winning Olivia’s heart.