A Season of Romance

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘I shall go to Brighton a month early, but no one will think that anything out of the ordinary. From the first of July you, madam, must fend for yourself. I wash my hands of you.’ She stalked to the door but as she opened it, she turned for one final remark. ‘Perhaps now you are regretting investing all your money in Miss Bower’s business.’

  The door closed with a snap. Lucia had never seen her aunt so angry, but in her heart she could not blame the dowager. She dropped her head into her hands, feeling slightly sick. She had thought, she had been so certain that a meeting between Aunt Evadne and her old flame would have a happy outcome, but she could not have been more wrong.

  With a sigh she walked to the window. She had made a mull of it, just as she had made a mull of rejecting Sir Darius. Not that the cases were the same, of course. Aunt Evadne had been deeply in love with her suitor whereas she –

  Lucia ‘s thoughts halted. Could she honestly say she felt nothing for Sir Darius? He had occupied almost all her waking thoughts since he had made that ill-fated proposal. And before that? She considered the matter. No. Before that he had been in the background, the thought of him a constant comfort, not as a lover, or potential husband, but as a friend. She missed the companionship that had sprung up between them, the feeling that she could say anything to him, share any problem. She could not deny she had come to like him. Very much.

  But liking was not love. And one couldn’t fall in love upon such a short acquaintance. And yet, just the memory of his kiss made her stomach swoop and her pulse race. Perhaps she had been in a fair way to falling in love with him when he proposed, but she had not known it.

  Lucia leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the window. What a pickle! Not that she need worry about Sir Darius. He would recover from any slight affection he might have for her, but her aunt – she was mortified now to think how much she had hurt Aunt Evadne.

  Angrily she wiped her eyes. It was merely tears of self-pity, and she had no time for that. She deserved every lash and sting of conscience for the arrogant, thoughtless way she had behaved.

  It was fortunate that Grace’s business was doing so well, or she would feel thoroughly disheartened.

  *

  Dinner that evening was a quiet affair. Lady Quidenham sent word that she would be dining in her room and when Miss Morrison commented upon Lucia’s lack of appetite, she felt obliged to tell her something of the truth.

  ‘I fear my aunt is very displeased with me,’ she confessed. ‘For arranging the visit to the Royal Institution today. You see, I discovered that Mr Linus Theale is an old beau of my aunt’s. They fell out years ago – before she was married – and have not seen each other since. I thought, if I brought them back together…’ She sighed. ‘I thought they might at least resume their friendship. Unfortunately, it did not work. The look that passed between them as we left the Royal Institution was positively hostile.’

  ‘Oh Lucia.’ Miss Morrison’s eyes were full of gentle reproof. ‘Is that why she was so quiet when we left Albermarle Street? Poor Lady Quidenham, what a surprise to spring upon her. You really should not have done it.’

  ‘No.’ Lucia was full of contrition, thinking of her own reaction to a surprise proposal. ‘I should have known better. It was foolish in the extreme and I could not be sorrier.’

  ‘Ah well, we know my lady’s temper is a little hasty. Let us hope that by the morning she will have come around.’

  Lucia thought it unlikely, and when she went down to breakfast her fears were confirmed.

  ‘My lady is keeping to her room,’ Miss Morrison informed her, as she came in. ‘I saw Fixby as I was coming downstairs and she told me.’

  ‘Oh. Perhaps I should not go riding with the Garwoods, today,’ replied Lucia. ‘my aunt might need me.’

  ‘No, you should go. I think it is best if you play least in sight,’ replied Morry, twinkling. ‘I shall go up and sit with her later, and perhaps we will make a start on the second volume of the new novel I am reading to her. Pride and Prejudice. It really is quite entertaining and will cheer her up, I am sure.’

  ‘Thank you, Morry. You really are very good to my aunt.’

  ‘I like her,’ she said simply. ‘True, she can be a little sharp, but one learns not to mind that. Thankfully, with Grace doing so well, I am not required to be in Orchard Street so often, and have more time to spend with Lady Quidenham.’

  ‘Oh dear, are you worked to death by everything?’

  ‘Not at all,’ replied Morry, laughing. ‘I like to be busy. Besides, Grace is showing an aptitude for business and now needs very little help with the sewing or the accounts and I am glad to let her get on with it. So, you must go off and enjoy yourself today, my dear. All will be well, you’ll see.’

  Lucia continued with her breakfast. She had not yet told Morry that her aunt was turning them out at the end of the month. She must do so, of course, but not yet. And perhaps Morry was right; it was still possible that her aunt’s mercurial temper might swing once again.

  Lucia ran upstairs to scramble into her riding habit, but by the time she fixed the cherry-red hat in place she had decided there was something she must do before leaving the house. It could not wait.

  She made her way to Lady Quidenham’s bedchamber, where her knock was answered by my lady’s dresser.

  ‘Good morning Fixby. Is my aunt awake?’

  ‘She is.’ The dresser’s frosty glare conveyed, as clear as any words, no thanks to you!

  Lucia sailed past her and into the room, where she found her aunt propped up against a mountain of snowy white pillows. She held a cup of hot chocolate between her hands, the ringless fingers looking thin and claw like. Her eyes were as fierce as ever, but without her rouge and powder and with a white cap over her grey curls she looked every one of her fifty-nine years.

  ‘Well, what do you want?’

  ‘May we have moment alone, Aunt?’

  ‘No need for that. I have no secrets from Fixby.’

  Lucia did not argue. She approached the bed and held out a small bundle of papers.

  ‘Your letters to my grandmother, ma’am.’

  Her aunt stared at them, but kept her hands wrapped about her cup. After a moment Lucia laid the bundle carefully on the bedcovers.

  ‘If you think this will make me change my mind about what I said yesterday, you are mistaken,’ the dowager snapped.

  ‘I understand that, ma’am, I expected nothing else, but I wanted you to have these now. I am truly sorry for what happened yesterday.’

  ‘Aye, and so you should be.’ The old woman was still looking at the letters, but after a few moments she waved a hand, saying irritably, ‘Well, if that is all, you may go. We are engaged to dine with Lady Winterstoke this evening, I do not wish to see you again until then.’

  ‘Oh.’ Lucia blinked. ‘Are you well enough for that, ma’am? I am sure Miss Morrison would come with me if – ‘

  ‘Of course I am well enough, I am not an invalid! Besides, I will not have my name bandied about by the gossip mongers, scenting a scandal! Now get out, and leave me to enjoy my chocolate in peace.’

  Miss Garwood had written that they would call for Lucia at eleven, and as the clock in the hall chimed the hour, Lucia saw the riders turning into the square. She looked carefully as she stepped out of the house, but apart from the groom leading Juno, she could see only Mr and Miss Garwood and Verity Claversham in the party. There was no sign of Sir Darius.

  It took only a few minutes for Lucia to settle herself upon the grey mare and then the party set off for the park. The warm sunshine had tempted the crowds out of doors and they found the rides and carriage drives very busy. At one point they met with Lord Applecross, tooling his curricle around the park. He stopped, waving his hat towards them.

  ‘Well met!’ he cried gaily, his cheerful smile encompassing them all. ‘What, is Claversham not with you?’

  Lucy waited eagerly for the answer.

  ‘My brother is gone out of T
own,’ Verity replied.

  ‘Has he now? That’s odd, he did not mention it when I saw him on Monday. In fact, he told me he was engaged to ride out with you this morning.’

  ‘Perhaps you had the wrong day,’ suggested Gerald Garwood.

  ‘No, no, remember it particularly. It was settling day at Tattersalls and he was telling me about the new pair he’d picked up at Newmarket. I asked if I might try ‘em, but told him today was the only morning I had free and he said…’ The young lord’s brow cleared and he gave a laugh. ‘Perhaps he was trying not to wound my feelings!’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like Claversham,’ returned Gerald Garwood. ‘He’d tell you to your face if he didn’t want you to drive his new team.’

  ‘Yes, he would,’ agreed his fond sister. ‘But it was a sudden decision, I think, to go down to Epsom to stay with friends. However, he promised Grandmama he would be back for her party this evening, and he is stopping off at Claversham this morning to collect Mama. Which reminds me, Tommy, you haven’t forgotten you are invited, have you?’

  ‘Oh lord, no. Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Miss Claversham!’

  With a flourish of his whip Lord Applecross drove away, the riders moved on and Lucia was able to retire into her own thoughts. They were not happy. Sir Darius was clearly not allowing her rejection to affect him. In fact, she doubted that he had really cared for her at all!

  Their ride around the park completed, Gerald Garwood and his sister went home, leaving Verity and her groom to escort Lucia back to Portman Square, where Miss Claversham’s last words to her friend were that she must rest before the evening.

  ‘And come prepared to dance,’ she ordered, laughing. ‘Grandmama’s parties always finish with us rolling up the carpets for an impromptu hop!’

  The short carriage ride to Lady Winterstoke’s elegant town house in Grafton Street was uncomfortable for Lucia, and not only because of the dowager’s continuing coldness towards her. She had wanted to wear her apricot gown with the demi-train this evening. That would give her the perfect excuse not to stand up with Sir Darius, should he ask her, but Verity’s parting shot meant that she could no longer claim she did not know there would be dancing.

  Not that Sir Darius was likely to invite her to stand up with him, but Lucia knew that she and her great-aunt were amongst the half-dozen or so guests Lady Winterstoke had invited to dine at Grafton Street and he would not be able to ignore her completely without causing some comment from his grandmother or his sister.

  They were shown into the library where Lady Winterstoke was receiving her dinner guests, since it adjoined the dining room.

  ‘Lucia, at last!’ Verity ran up and kissed her cheek, as Lady Winterstoke carried Lady Quidenham off to sit with the matrons. ‘I have been waiting for you to arrive. Come and meet Mama!’

  She linked arms with Lucia and led her across the room to where Lady Claversham was sitting in a wing chair with Sir Darius standing beside her. He was watching their approach, his countenance inscrutable. Lucia quashed the nervous flutter in her breast and fixed her attention upon the lady.

  There was an unmistakable resemblance between Lady Claversham and her children, although her beauty was now much faded. She wore a lavender gown which enhanced the pallor of her skin and Lucia thought there was a discontented droop to her mouth, but perhaps she was being unkind. Had not Verity told her that her mother suffered from ill health?

  Lucia was presented to Lady Claversham and she made her curtsy.

  ‘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 c
ouple 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.