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 she 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 frighten
ed 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.’
‘Well, there we are then.’ Miss Morrison beamed. ‘No harm has been done.’
‘Not if that had been the only occurrence last night,’ declared Lady Quidenham. ‘But there is worse to come.’ She glared at Lucy. ‘The truth is out that Grace Bower is your cousin. I am now a laughing stock, because everyone knows you duped me into bringing you to Town in order to promote your cousin’s dresses.’
Morry’s look of dismay only added to Lucia’s feelings of guilt, but she rallied.
‘I am sure no one is laughing at you, Aunt. But how did anyone find out about it? Grace would not say anything.’
She was about to add that she had told no one, then she remembered she had confided in Sir Darius.
‘It was Lady Claversham who mentioned it,’ the dowager continued, her eyes snapping angrily. ‘She asked me if I was aware of your connection with the seamstress in Orchard Street.’
The knot of unhappiness inside Lucy grew even tighter and she felt slightly sick. Surely he would not have been so petty?
Lady Quidenham split the bread roll on her plate and began to butter it with quick, angry strokes of the knife.
‘She said she wanted to give me the hint. Impudent woman! Oh, I am aware she was merely trying to stir up the coals. She is afraid I might change my will in your favour. It would serve her right if I did! She gave that irritating laugh of hers and declared how refreshing it was to find a young lady interested in commerce. Commerce! What she meant was trade, Lucia! She as good as said you are prostituting yourself to puff off your cousin’s wares!’
Morry gave a little shriek. ‘Oh good heavens, my lady, surely not! Lucia would never –’
‘All I have done, Aunt, is to wear the clothes Grace has fashioned,’ replied Lucy, sitting up very straight. ‘If anyone has asked who made them for me, I have told the truth. Nothing more.’ Her appetite gone, she put down her napkin and left the table.
She went to her room, where she paced the floor, her mind racing. After this latest revelation there was no possibility that Lady Quidenham would relent and with little more than two weeks until she closed up Quidenham House and went to Brighton, Lucy realised she would need to find somewhere to live, and quickly.
She found her writing case, took out her private ledger and tried to work out just how much money she had. Even with the promised income from Grace at the end of the month it was too little for her to set up her own establishment.
She heard a soft scratching at the door.
‘Lucy, may I come in?’
‘Of course, Morry.’ She closed the ledger and wiped the frown from her brow. ‘Come and sit down, my dear. I have been meaning to talk to you.’
‘Oh dear, have you? I came to see if you were all right, after her ladyship’s little outburst. I have come to know Lady Quidenham well enough to say with some confidence that she doesn’t mean half the harsh things she says.’
‘In this case, Morry, I’m afraid she does.’ Lucy waited until her old governess was seated before continuing. ‘I have been a sad trial to my great-aunt, Morry. She is going to Brighton at the beginning of July, and I am not going with her. Please, do not say anything. We had always said I could stay in Town for only the one Season, had we not? I admit I had hoped we would have another month here complete, but it is not to be.’ She put on a brave smile. ‘Orchard Gowns is not yet in a position to pay sufficient for us to set up a house of our own, but we should be able to find a suite of rooms that would suit us, in a quiet little village somewhere. And if all else fails we must fall back upon our original plan to live with Grace at Orchard Street. Now we have the next-door property I am sure we can spare a room or two for our living accommodation.’
Morry looked so astounded that it took all Lucy’s willpower to keep smiling.
‘Oh dear! Oh, Lucia, I do not mind for myself, but how would you manage, after living in such style here?’ Miss Morrison wrung her hands. ‘I had hoped that perhaps, coming here with her ladyship, meeting so many gentlemen, one of them might have taken your fancy and made you an offer. Then you might have lived in comfort in your own establishment.’
‘Now that was never in my plans, Morry, and after this latest scrape I doubt any respectable man would have me! No, I have had my time in Town and now have to face the future. Indeed, I should quite like to move in with Grace. I have missed her greatly, you know. And I see no difficulty in giving up this hurly burly round of parties, and being polite to strangers who only care about scandal and gossip!
If the business continues to grow then we can consider a separate establishment for you and me one day, but for now I should be glad to live quietly in Orchard Street.’ She added lightly, ‘I shall learn to sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam!’
Miss Morrison did not look convinced, and it took Lucy some time to persuade her that this was what she truly wanted to do, but eventually she succeeded, although the little governess insisted they should not tell Grace just yet.
‘I would not have her worry about us,’ she said, ‘and I have not yet given up on Lady Quidenham changing her mind. Why else would she be insisting that you continue to go about Town with her?’
‘To save face,’ retorted Lucy. ‘She hates gossip and does not want anyone to think we have fallen out. But if you insist, we shall keep this a secret between the two of us, for a little longer at least.’
As soon as Miss Morrison had departed, Lucia sent a note to Orchard Street, with instructions that the messenger should wait for a reply. She found herself hoping that it was her cousin who had inadvertently let slip the family connection, but when the footman came back with Grace’s response, a vehement assurance that she had not breathed a word, Lucy felt the weight upon her spirits grow heavier but there was nothing more she could do, save keep up her head and weather the storm.
*
The days dragged by. The dowager refused to cancel any of their engagements, saying they must face down any gossip. Lucy knew she was right but it was difficult to face the slights and sly comments whenever they went into company.
Lucy could only be thankful for the continued friendship of Verity, who called to see her the day after the party.
‘No one noticed the little contretemps on the balcony,’ she assured Lucy.
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