Chapter Sixteen
Monday, 26th August 1822
‘Goodness, Pa, you do scrub up well,’ Shona said as Grayson entered the sitting room of their hotel suite. ‘I’m so glad you agreed to come with us. The dancing will cheer you up.’
‘Do I need cheering up?’
‘You could give a wet blanket a run for its money. You look like you’ve lost a sixpence and found a penny, as Mama used to say.’
‘So she did. I’m fine, Shona, I’m just...’
‘Tired. So you keep saying.’
‘It’s that wee bed in my room, my feet hang out the end.’ Grayson took a seat. He had spent most of the last two nights in here, watching the city lights through the windows, wondering what Constance was doing. It was a foolish occupation and fruitless, for he’d never know, but it was the only one he seemed capable of at the moment. Day and night, she was permanently in his thoughts. He had given her up for the sake of his children, but he was finding his children’s company almost tiresome at the moment. It was grossly unfair of him. It had been guilt that made him surrender to Shona’s pleas that he escort her to this damned ball, but having agreed, he should at least make the effort to put up an appearance of enjoyment for her sake.
‘You scrub up very well yourself, young lady, if you don’t mind me saying,’ he said, forcing a smile. ‘Another new gown?’
‘I could not wear any old rag to a ball attended by the King.’
‘I wasn’t aware that you possessed any old rags. I hope you’re not expecting His Majesty to ask you to dance.’
Shona made a face. ‘I sincerely hope he does not. There is only one gentleman I’m interested in dancing with, and he will be by far the handsomest in the room.’ She stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. ‘I mean you, just in case you’re wondering.’
‘The pleasure will be all mine. I’m such a terrible dancer, it certainly won’t be yours. Thank you,’ he said, taking the glass of whisky his daughter had poured him. ‘What’s this for?’
‘Brace yourself. I need to tell you something.’
‘What have you done?’
‘I have not done anything.’
‘The what has Neil done?’
‘Neil hasn’t done anything either, for once. He doesn’t know about this. I’ve been waiting to get you to myself to speak to you.’
‘Sit down then, and tell all.’
‘I can’t sit down, I’ll crush my gown. May I have a sip of that?’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Grandfather lets Neil have a wee dram. He says it will make a man of him.’
‘I’ll be having words with your grandfather about that.’
‘He doesn’t drink it, you needn’t worry. He pours it away when Grandfather isn’t looking. He doesn’t like the smell.’
‘Like medicine,’ Grayson said, thinking of Constance. Again.
‘Pa!’
He blinked. ‘I’m sorry.’ Shona was chewing her bottom lip, a sure sign that she was worried. ‘What is it, Shu-shu?’
She smiled at his use of her baby name, but she didn’t stop chewing her lip. ‘You know Mr Urquhart? The man who owns the hotel?’
‘He runs the hotel. It’s owned by Mr Oman and his wife. What about Mr Urquhart?’
‘He said the oddest thing to me, the other day.’
Shite. Grayson took a swig of the whisky. ‘What exactly did Mr Urquhart say?’
‘He asked why my mother wasn’t with us.’
Double shite. He took another swig of whisky. ‘How odd.’
‘It gets odder still. I told him that my mother was dead. He said that he was very sorry to hear it, and asked me if it was an accident.’
‘Right.’ Grayson finished the whisky and reluctantly decided against another. Tonight of all nights, he wasn’t ready for this, but it had to be dealt with. How he was going to deal with it was another question. He had never lied to his daughter. ‘You told him it wasn’t an accident, I presume?’
‘I told him that she died of a long illness which is what you always say. He said she’d looked very well when he saw her last month.’ Shona met his gaze unflinchingly. ‘Here. That she had dinner with you.’
‘Right.’ Right, what?
‘So did you have dinner here with a strange woman?’
‘She’s not strange, Shona, and it’s not at all what you’re thinking.’
‘I don’t know what to think.’
‘I suppose it’s too much to ask that you forget all about it?’ One look from his daughter made him hold his hands up. ‘No. Fair enough.’
‘Is that all you can say?’ Forgetting her concerns about crushing her ball gown, Shona sat down beside him. ‘Is she your friend? The one you saw in Leith the day the King arrived?’
‘She is. She is my—we were very good friends, Shona.’
‘Were?’
‘I’ll not be seeing her again.’
‘Why not? Wouldn’t we like her?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve never considered it.’
‘Perhaps you think she wouldn’t like us?’
‘She has other more important concerns. Plans. Work. She’s no time or inclination to be cultivating my offspring.’
‘Well, that’s a relief, for I am not in the least bit in need of being cultivated. Nor is Neil. We are fine as we are, thank you very much.’ Shona pursed her lips. ‘What I want to know is, are you intending to marry this secret friend of yours?’
‘No!’
‘Then is this lady your mistress?’
‘Shona!’
‘Because if she is, you had best make sure Grandmother doesn’t find out. That is a very rude swear word.’
‘You didn’t hear it.’ He got to his feet, deciding that another whisky was definitely in order, his head reeling. ‘Would you mind if I married again at some point?’
‘Yes, I would. I don’t want another brother or sister.’
‘There’s no question of that.’
‘Good, because the very idea of you—’ She broke off, screwing up her face. ‘Ew... Also, I don’t want some stranger telling me what to do. I can choose my own clothes, I have my own friends, and we already have a housekeeper. So you don’t really need another wife, do you? Are you thinking of getting married, Pa?’
‘No. I wasn’t. Haven’t. Does your brother think the same as you do?’
‘Oh, Neil would be horrified. Why did that woman pretend to be my mother?’
‘She didn’t. Mr Urquhart assumed we were married, and we thought it amusing, so we didn’t correct him.’
‘It’s an odd sort of joke. If you did want to get married again and if you did pick a suitable woman, it wouldn’t be fair for me to tell you not to, even if I didn’t want you to, would it? I mean I’m sixteen, I’ve got my life ahead of me while you—I mean you are nearly fifty.’
‘I’m forty-three.’
Shona shrugged. ‘What I’m trying to say is, that I don’t want you to be lonely.’
‘In my dotage.’
‘I didn’t say that!’
‘Come here a moment.’ Grayson gave his daughter a hug. ‘Thank you for telling me all this. It can’t have been easy for you.’
‘No, it wasn’t but—well, you’re our Pa and you’ve done everything for us and I know we’re sometimes selfish but we love you and we just want you to be happy.’
‘I love you both with all my heart and I’m very proud of you. Now, enough of this mutual admiration society. Go and get your cloak, and we’ll go. We don’t want to arrive after the King. It’s not only rude but probably treasonable.’
* * *
The Assembly Rooms on George Street were illuminated with gas lamps for the occasion of the Caledonian Hunt Ball. The building, rightly revered as one of the finest in the New Town, was in the Greek clas
sical style, the arcaded facade adorned with four columns supporting an imposing pediment. When Constance arrived on foot with James and Edith, there were queues of carriages and sedan chairs all the way from Charlotte Square, disgorging a steady stream of grandly dressed passengers. Tartan was, inevitably, very much on display once more. Several of the ladies wore plaid sashes over their evening gowns, and a good many of the gentlemen were in full Highland regalia. Their armour would clank, Constance thought irreverently, when they danced, and their ceremonial swords would be a positive danger to life and limb. A number of gentlemen were in dress uniforms bedecked with orders and medals, and a number were in court dress, for goodness sake, with powdered hair.
‘If he is not careful, that gentleman will be mistaken for a footman,’ Edith said to her. ‘And goodness, would you look at that one. He could arm a battalion.’ She took Constance’s arm as they joined the crowd in the entrance way. ‘I’m really glad you agreed to come with us at the last moment. I’m not really one for this sort of thing, but James is a real social creature. I much appreciate you keeping me company. Oh, my goodness, look at the crush.’
The entrance foyer was crowded. They left their cloaks in the ladies’ retiring room and Edith assured Constance once again that the borrowed evening gown of gold silk suited her perfectly, and that she personally preferred the more sombre emerald-green for herself.
A sweeping staircase with encircling arms led up to a spectacular glass dome in the roof. Leaving James to seek out an acquaintance, Edith and Constance took a leisurely stroll around the building. The ballroom at the front of the building, its walls hung with mirror glass, had been transformed into a throne room, the windows draped in blue velvet trimmed with gold, and a throne set on a dais at the far end. A second, smaller ballroom was similarly decked out, thought it lacked a throne. There were two supper rooms clad floor to ceiling in tartan which would clash horribly with the tartan-clad attendees, Constance thought. Flora could fill an entire issue of the NJJ with the sheer overstated and unnecessary extravagance of the whole affair, if she chose.
In the drawing rooms and withdrawing rooms, there was an abundance of flowers, their fragrance adding to the perfume of the ladies, and the more earthy scent of sweat mingled with candlewax and the ever-present aroma of damp tartan. The card rooms were hushed, the gentlemen already at play huddled over the baize tables. Constance and Edith quickly withdrew.
* * *
Returning to the ballroom half an hour later, they were just in time to witness the King’s arrival. George, thankfully, had decided against the too-short kilt and pink tights which had been the subject of much derision in the press. Instead, along with the courtiers who surrounded him, he wore a blue coat with red cuffs and collar which did nothing for the frighteningly florid puce of his complexion. His breast glittered with diamonds as he made his stately way to the top of the room and graciously took the hand of a very pretty young lady for the opening reel. Gow’s Band had been instructed to play only music that the King decreed to be ‘national and characteristic.’ Constance, a veteran of many Friday night village ceilidhs, watched the whirl of tartan on the dance floor, recognising neither the steps nor the tune.
Turning to speak to Edith, she discovered that they had been separated by the King’s grand entrance. How she would find her again in this crush, she had no idea. The best policy, she decided, would be to stand out in the foyer by the stairs. She pushed her way through the crush to do so, relieved to breathe a modicum of fresh air. And there he was, dressed in plain black evening clothes, standing quite alone.
Grayson. She didn’t say his name aloud, but he looked up all the same, and their eyes met, and immediately they began to make their way towards each other.
‘You’re the last person I expected to see mingling with the hoi polloi at one of the King’s soirées,’ he said.
‘I’m here as a favour to Edith. Wild horses wouldn’t drag me here otherwise.’
He smiled and her heart turned over. He took her hand and she followed him without a thought for anything or anyone else. A door he opened at random gave way into a room filled with shelves of glasses. ‘I don’t give a damn why you’re here, I’m just delighted that you are. I’ve missed you.’
‘It goes without saying that I have missed you too, terribly. Has it only been two days?’
‘Three. It feels like a year.’
‘Three.’ She smiled. ‘Is that really all?’
‘I am also here under duress. I promised Shona I would be her escort tonight. She seems to be growing up under my nose.’
‘She sixteen, Grayson. A young lady, not a girl.’
‘A young lady who knows about you.’
‘What! How?’
‘Urquhart. The one person it never occurred to me to worry about. It was a strange conversation. She doesn’t want me to marry. Neil would be outraged. She’s appalled at the very notion her father might want a wife in any real sense, but she’ll grant me that I might be lonely in my old age.’
Constance laughed. ‘So if we deck ourselves out in lambswool and buy a couple of bath chairs, then we might earn her blessing.’
‘Aye, I know, it’s ridiculous. Are you still all set to head south with your cousin next week?’
Constance slipped her hand from his, her smile fading, the elation she’d felt when she saw him seeping away. ‘Nothing has happened to change my mind, if that is what you’re asking.’
‘The school we talked about in Glasgow though, wouldn’t you be just as happy teaching there?’
‘It doesn’t exist.’
‘Not yet.’
‘Please don’t. I can’t bear it. We shouldn’t be having this conversation, there’s no point.’
‘Constance...’
But she ignored him, pushing her way past him, out on to the first-floor landing. There was a retiring room somewhere, but where? To her dismay, she found herself in a large drawing room. To her further dismay, it was occupied by Lady Glenbranter, Shona and Edith. And to her horror, Grayson came storming in after her.
‘Constance, I...’
‘Grayson!’ She waved him frantically away, but it was too late. All three pairs of eyes had turned towards them.
‘Pa?’
‘Mr Maddox! Miss Grant?’
‘Cousin Constance?’
No one said anything as a bemused silence filled the air. ‘It’s her, isn’t it?’ Shona said, speaking first, her tone outraged. ‘That’s her. Miss Grant. Your friend from Leith. The one Mr Urquhart said—’ She broke off under the harsh gaze of her father’s appalled stare.
‘Excuse me, I really must go,’ Constance muttered, mortified.
But Grayson caught her as she made to flee, with the oddest smile on his face. ‘You’re quite right, this is indeed my friend from Leith, Shona, though she’s actually from Clachan Bridge in the Highlands, and she’s not only my friend. She’s my best friend.’
‘Best friend!’ Lady Glenbranter exclaimed. ‘She’s a woman!’
‘Very perceptive of you,’ Grayson said. ‘What you don’t know is that she happens to be the woman I love.’
‘No, Grayson, don’t. You can’t.’
But his smile rooted her to the spot. ‘I can. I have to say this, because it’s so blindingly obvious. We’ve said goodbye so many times, because we’ve convinced ourselves there is no other way forward. The only thing we’ve proved is that we simply can’t say goodbye. So why not try to make it work instead? Do you see what I’m saying, Constance? My darling, instead of telling each other that it’s impossible for us to be together, can’t we try to achieve the one thing we both want more than anything, and make it happen?’
‘But we’ve said our final farewells.’
‘Yes, and the moment we saw each other, we were instantly wrapped in each other’s arms.’ Casting a harried look at their dumbstruck audience, he p
ulled her over to the corner of the room. ‘I know you think this is a bolt from the blue, and it is. I never for a moment imagined when I came here—but seeing you again, I realised it might just be that simple. Let’s stop being determined to live apart and start attempting to live together.’
Another hurried glance over Constance’s shoulder showed him Shona in earnest conversation with her grandmother. The Urquhart story. He would deal with that later. Now all that mattered was explaining his revelation to Constance.
‘We’ve been looking at things the wrong way round,’ he said. ‘Through the wrong end of the telescope, to use the maritime metaphor. We’ve been focusing on what we might lose, what we’re risking. Your independence. My relationship with my children. I’m not minimising the risks. There’s an awful lot at stake for both of us. It requires a huge leap of faith. But just think, Constance, what we might gain.’
‘At a cost. Such a cost. Too much of a cost.’
‘Is it? We don’t know for certain. That’s what dawned on me when I saw you again tonight. Neither of us knows what the outcome will be if we try to make a life together, but I do know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if we don’t at least try. I admit I’m scared of what that might mean. It would require compromise from you too, which you’ll admit is not one of your strengths.’
‘But I’m already compromising by giving you up.’ She clutched at his hands. ‘I’m not sure what you’re asking.’
‘I’m asking you to marry me. Let’s make a life together. A new life together.’
‘But your children...’
A Forbidden Liaison with Miss Grant Page 21