Spring Muslins

by Melinda Hammond

  ‘So you are Lady Quidenham’s ward.’

  ‘Her great niece ma’am.’ Lucy tried to ignore the cold greeting. ‘She invited me to join her for the Season.’

  ‘Hmph.’ The discontented mouth thinned a little more. ‘The dowager must be inordinately fond of you, Miss Luckington.’

  Lucia was at a loss to know how to respond. A few weeks ago she would have been delighted people should think so, but now, having forfeited any goodwill her great-aunt might have felt towards her, she felt a guilty blush creeping into her cheeks.

  ‘More of an obligation,’ she said now. ‘It was kind of her to invite me, and I have enjoyed myself immensely, but I can no longer impose upon her good nature. I shall not be accompanying her to Brighton next month.’

  She stole a glance at Sir Darius, but he was standing with the light behind him and she could not see his expression.

  ‘That is probably very wise,’ responded the widow, sugar-sweet. ‘Her ladyship is not one to tolerate sycophants for too long.’

  The honeyed words stung Lucy like a slap on the cheek. She heard Verity give a little gasp beside her.

  ‘I do not think there was ever any question of that, Mama,’ put in Sir Darius, a faint note of disapproval in his voice. ‘But the dowager is notoriously fickle in her preferences.’

  ‘Do you think so? I have not found that,’ retorted Lucy, her chin going up. ‘Lady Quidenham has treated me with more kindness than I deserve. I shall forever be grateful to her for that.’

  ‘Oh, Lady Chawton and her son have arrived,’ exclaimed Verity, a note of relief in her voice. ‘Our party is complete. If you will excuse us, Mama…’

  Darius waited until Verity and Lucy were out of earshot before saying, ‘Really, ma’am, there was no call to insult Miss Luckington in that way.’

  ‘No? She is a scheming minx, I have known it from the start.’

  ‘And so you have told me, many times, although you have not until this minute met her.’

  ‘I know her sort,’ retorted Lady Claversham. ‘A penniless relation who sees a chance to win a fortune for herself. She has wormed her way into the dowager’s affections.’

  ‘That may be so, but it has done Lady Quidenham no harm to go into society a little more this Season. The old lady appears to be enjoying herself more than she has done for years.’

  His mother looked up at him. ‘I do believe the chit has beguiled you, too, Darius.’

  ‘Nonsense.’

  ‘No? Well, after all I have said to you on the matter I am surprised that you have allowed the gel to become such good friends with your sister.’

  ‘Lady Winterstoke sees no harm in it, and to be truthful neither do I. Miss Luckington may have her own reasons for coming to Town, but they are not what you think.’

  She stared at him. ‘I think you should be very careful, my son, or she will have her claws firmly into you, too.’

  ‘Now on that point I am able to set your mind at rest,’ he retorted. ‘Miss Luckington has no interest in me. Nor I in her!’

  Despite his strong denial, Darius could not help watching Lucy. She was out of sorts that evening. She had lost her sparkle. He was not conceited enough to think it had anything to do with him, indeed, she had made her feeling on that point very clear indeed! How could he ever forget what she had said to him in the park?

  He wondered if she had fallen out with the dowager, for she had said she was not accompanying her to Brighton. Well, if she had, it was no concern of his. Miss Lucy Luckington had assured him more than once that she was quite capable of looking after herself.

  ‘Oh Lucy, I beg your pardon,’ Verity exclaimed, as she led her friend away. ‘Mama must be feeling very out of sorts to be so crotchety. Which makes it all the more curious that she insisted on joining us for dinner. No one who knows her would have thought it amiss if she had kept to her room tonight. There are only ten of us sitting down,’ she continued, as the party began to make their way into the dining room. ‘Four gentlemen to six ladies. It would not have been quite so uneven if Mama had not declared she must come to Town. Not that I am not glad she is here,’ she added hurriedly.

  ‘I think it most likely she came to see the woman who threatens to usurp your brother’s place as Lady Quidenham’s heir,’ muttered Lucy, still smarting from their conversation.

  ‘No, that cannot be it,’ said Verity comfortably. ‘Darius has already put her right on that point. I think the journey from Claversham has shaken her up. It is only a couple of hours and a very good road, but Mama usually takes to her bed for days after coming here. Oh pray, my dear, pay no heed to Mama’s crotchets! We have the party to look forward to after dinner. Grandmama has invited any number of our friends to join us later, and with the large drawing room cleared, we shall be able to accommodate at least a dozen couples dancing at any one time!’ she squeezed Lucy’s arm. ‘Is that not excellent?’

  Lucy had only time to murmur something inarticulate before they separated and took their seats at the dining table. Lucia found herself sitting between Edward Chawton and Sir Henry Blean, a young man with a carrying voice and a very high opinion of himself. Sir Darius, she noted with some relief, took a seat beside his mother at the far end of the table. When he happened to glance her way, the forbidding frown on his brow made her drop her own gaze.

  She exchanged a few words with Mr Chawton, but he appeared preoccupied and she was surprised when he suddenly asked her if she had been to Orchard Street recently.

  ‘Why no, sir.’ She wanted to retort that she did not spend all her time buying new gowns, but knew that would sound churlish. ‘I believe Lady Chawton has been there, has she not?’

  ‘Oh, yes. she was most impressed. At first.’ He pushed the food around on his plate with his fork. ‘Now…’ He turned and fixed her with an earnest stare. ‘But you like Miss Bower’s style, do you not?’

  ‘Why yes!’ she laughed. ‘I would not go anywhere else for my gowns!’

  ‘No, no. Orchard Gowns have great elegance, do they not, Miss Luckington? And a certain, distinctive style. They cannot fail to please.’

  ‘No, indeed,’ she murmured, puzzled by his vehemence.

  He nodded at her, then turned his attention back to his dinner.

  Mr Chawton maintained his silence and Lucy was grateful, therefore, when Sir Henry addressed a remark to her. Rather than endure a silent meal she encouraged him to talk, and with great success. Sir Henry was a young man who enjoyed the sound of his own voice and she soon realised that it only took the odd word from her to keep the conversation flowing.

  Not that one could call it a conversation, since Sir Henry held forth on any number of topics without requiring a response from his audience. If Lucia had been in better spirits, she might have challenged many of his opinions and assertions, as it was, she merely smiled and nodded as occasion demanded without really hearing a word that was said. This tactic worked so well that when the meal was over, he declared he had rarely enjoyed a dinner more.

  ‘We have had an excellent time of it, Miss Luckington, have we not?’ he told her as the ladies rose to leave the table. He caught her hand and squeezed it. ‘By Jove, madam, it has been most delightful getting acquainted. I shall come and find you later, ma’am, so be sure to keep a seat free for me!’

  A generous quantity of wine had made Sir Henry louder and more effusive than ever. Lucy blushed a little as several of her fellow guests cast disapproving glances towards them, including Sir Darius. Freeing herself from Sir Henry’s grasp she hurried away.

  ‘Only another three weeks of this,’ she thought, following the other ladies out of the room. ‘After that I will never have to endure his cold looks again.’

  But by the time the other guests had begun to arrive for the evening party, Lucia was feeling much more indignant as she took another glass of wine. It was not that Sir Darius was cold towards her, merely indifferent. She had come prepared to be polite, to offer him an olive branch, possibly even an apology if s
he had the opportunity, but he continued to ignore her. Not that anyone else noticed. He merely avoided Lucia, making sure he was never in the same group, turning his charm upon the older ladies and later engaging Lord Applecross in an animated discussion about driving technique.

  Lucia should not have felt the lack of his attention, for she was never without company, indeed, she was afraid Sir Henry intended to stick to her side for the whole of the evening, but her spirits were still raw from her aunt’s displeasure and she found some relief by feeding her vexation towards Sir Darius.

  The company moved upstairs, where the double doors had been thrown open between the two reception rooms. Sir Henry insisted upon escorting Lucy and it seemed to her that she had barely shaken him off when Verity suggested dancing. Miss Rackham, an elderly spinster with a malformed hip, offered to play for them, and the younger members of the group began to move towards the dance floor.

  Verity took Lucia’s hand.

  ‘Come along, you must join in!’ She dragged her friend towards the larger room, where couples were arranging themselves into sets.

  ‘Look, my brother doesn’t have a partner yet. Darius!’

  Lucia’s heart skittered and she felt a spurt of panic. Then she heard a hearty voice at her shoulder.

  ‘Miss Luckington, if I may have the honour of leading you out, ma’am?’ Sir Henry was at her side, offering her his arm.

  Lucy’s hesitation was instinctive. She did not really wish to stand up with Sir Henry but Sir Darius had turned at his sister’s call and was coming towards them. That decided her. Leaving Verity to explain, Lucia went off with Sir Henry to join one of the sets that was forming.

  As they took their places, she glanced past Sir Henry to see Sir Darius still standing beside his sister. She was saying something, but his frowning look was bent upon the dance floor. Upon Lucia.

  She put up her chin. How dare he scowl so when she had saved him the embarrassment of standing up with her! Minutes later she saw him escorting Mrs Torrington, a dashing matron, to take up the last remaining places in their set. Well, it was nothing to her whom he should dance with. If he wanted to partner a ripe blonde with an irritating giggle that was entirely up to him. She turned her attention back to her own partner and bestowed upon him her brightest smile.

  Lucia danced next with Lord Applecross then with Mr Garwood and as he was leading her off the floor, Sir Henry pounced upon her, begging her to stand up with him again. He was looking very red in the face, his eyes a little bloodshot, but she preferred to be dancing than to suffer the ignominy of sitting at the side while Sir Darius led out a series of pretty partners.

  ‘By Jove, Miss Luckington, you are a dashed good dancer,’ declared Sir Henry, when the dance ended. ‘You outshine every other lady on the floor. I vow I must be the envy of all the other gentlemen here tonight!’

  But not the noted connoisseur of excellence, Sir Darius Claversham, she thought with growing irritation.

  *

  After four dances Miss Rackham left her post at the pianoforte to much appreciative applause. At one end of the room a series of glazed doors opened onto a balcony that overlooked the garden, but even with these doors thrown wide, there was very little air and the rooms were very warm. Those who had been dancing were heated from their exertions and everyone milled around, the ladies fanning themselves vigorously.

  Lucia could not but notice Sir Darius as he walked across the room. For one brief heart-lifting moment she thought he might speak, but he walked on by to where Mrs Torrington was standing with her friends. The matron welcomed him with what Lucia thought was unbecoming warmth. Not that it was any of her business, thought Lucy, pulling together the last scraps of her pride.

  The announcement of refreshments caused a fresh buzz around the room. Everyone made their way into the smaller drawing room, where a long table against one wall had been set out with a selection of cold drinks and little cakes. Lucy noted that Lady Quidenham was engaged in a lively conversation with her hostess and a couple of other friends and she was loath to disturb them, since they appeared to be enjoying themselves.

  She helped herself to a cup of punch and had moved away from the table when she was hailed by Lady Chawton, who was standing with a group of ladies whom Lucy did not know.

  ‘Ah, Miss Luckington. You are looking very well. Very elegant.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am,’ replied Lucy, a little bemused by the lady’s sudden friendliness.

  ‘That is another gown from Orchard Street, is it not?’ Lady Chawton’s thin lips widened in a malicious smile. ‘How advantageous it must be to have such a connection.’

  One of the other ladies sniggered. Lucy murmured a reply and moved on. She had not understood Lady Chawton’s remark, but she soon forgot it when Verity beckoned to her to join her group of friends.

  Lucy stayed talking with them for a while, then she excused herself and walked back to the larger room. There were only a few people in there now, standing in little groups and talking in a desultory fashion.

  Lucy moved towards the open doors, where a slight breeze wafted in, carrying with it fragrant scents from the garden below. The evening had not been a success. She felt dull and tired and wondered how soon she might suggest to Lady Quidenham that they should go home.

  Not that it was her home, she thought, her spirits drooping even lower. She had no real home.

  ‘Now, now, Miss Luckington. What are you doing all alone here?’ Sir Henry came up, his bewhiskered cheeks glowing pink in the candlelight.

  She managed a smile. ‘I wanted a little air, sir.’

  ‘Ah yes, of course, of course. Let us step outside, then.’ Before she could protest, he put his hand beneath her elbow and steered her out on to the balcony. ‘There, that is better, is it not?’

  ‘Y-yes, thank you.’ She tried to disengage her arm but Sir Henry’s grip tightened. He leaned closer.

  ‘Now then, shall we have a little kiss before we go back inside?’

  She could smell the wine on his breath and tried to push him away.

  ‘No, we shall not. Let me go this instant!’

  Her protest went unheeded. He laughed and dragged her into the shadows before pushing her against the wall so forcefully that she hit her head and jarred her elbow. The glass flew from her hand and she heard the tinkle of glass as it smashed on the stone balcony.

  He was leaning into her, his body crushing against hers until she could scarcely breathe. Her fists beat a weak and futile tattoo against his shoulders.

  ‘Let me go!’ she cried, thoroughly frightened now. ‘Let me – oh!’

  Suddenly she was free. She watched, enthralled and horrified, as Sir Darius dragged Sir Henry away by his collar.

  ‘That is enough, Blean,’ he barked. ‘You forget yourself!’

  But his opponent was beyond reason. With a yowl of rage he hurled himself at Sir Darius, who side-stepped neatly before landing a punch upon the chin that sent Sir Henry sprawling on the ground.

  ‘Damn you, Claversham, you will meet me for this!’

  ‘With pleasure,’ came the swift reply. ‘Any time and place of your choosing, Blean, although I think, when you have sobered up, that you will think better of that idea.’

  Sir Henry had climbed to his feet, and now he stood, swaying and glaring at Sir Darius, who took a step towards him, his fists clenched.

  ‘Now get out,’ he growled, ‘before I knock you down again.’

  Lucy could not move. Her hands were at her sides, palms pressed back against the stone wall of the house as she dragged in one deep breath after another, trying to calm her jangled nerves. Only after Sir Henry had lumbered away did Sir Darius turn to look at her.

  ‘Are you all right, Lucy? Did he hurt you?’

  ‘Yes. I.’ She stopped. She wanted to thank him for coming to her aid, but with her relief and gratitude was a sudden surge of guilt. What had just occurred seemed far less important to her than the apology she owed him, but her throat was clogged
with emotion. Her lip trembled and the next moment she was weeping, tears coursing down her cheeks.

  Without a word he stepped closer and gathered her in his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed. For the mistakes she had made. For what she had lost.

  At last she grew calmer.

  ‘Here.’ Sir Darius reached into his pocket and dragged out a handkerchief which he handed to her. ‘This is becoming a habit, Miss Luckington.’

  She felt no desire to smile. Moments earlier, in the heat of the moment, he had called her Lucy. Now they were back to formalities.

  ‘Th-thank you.’ She mopped her cheeks. ‘Sir Darius, I – you must let me tell you how much –’

  ‘I do not want your thanks. There is no need to say anything,’ he interrupted her. ‘Stay here. I will send my sister to you.’

  With that he went back into the house and Lucy felt the hot tears welling up again. She was not forgiven. And now she had added this foolish episode to the list of grievances he could hold against her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  After the events of the previous evening, Lucia would have preferred to keep to her room but she knew she would have to face her great-aunt at some point, and had decided it would be best to get it over with. Miss Morrison was already seated at the breakfast table with Lady Quidenham when Lucia went in and gave her an encouraging smile. Lucy braced herself for what was to come.

  ‘Well, madam, I have been telling Miss Morrison of your disgraceful behaviour last night. You seem to have a rare talent for falling into scrapes.’

  ‘I am sure dear Lucia did not intend any harm, ma’am.’

  Lucy threw her old governess a grateful look.

  ‘Sir Henry took me by surprise. I was not thinking – ‘

  ‘No, you never think, do you?’ retorted the dowager, bitterly. ‘If it wasn’t for Miss Claversham’s quick wits your reputation would be in shreds now. As it is, she made sure everyone understood she had been with you on the balcony the whole time, and that her brother’s quarrel with Sir Henry was over a totally unrelated matter.’