by Anne Herries
Sir George had been obliged to walk with her and she had occupied him until the party retired to their booth to partake of supper. At last, Sir George had been able to sit by Merry and serve her with some of the delicious wafer thin ham and peas that were offered for their enjoyment. She accepted his attentions with quiet dignity. However, shortly afterwards the concert began and when he tried to whisper to her, she begged that he should be quiet so as not to spoil the entertainment for others.
Afterwards, when they walked back into the gardens to watch the fireworks from an advantageous spot, he found himself displaced by Mr Hythe, who had been urged to it by Jane. He was forced to walk with Lady Standen, and feeling rather disgruntled, asked her when he might have the privilege of seeing her again.
‘We go to Almacks tomorrow evening,’ Lady Standen said. ‘Perhaps we shall see you there?’
Sir George looked annoyed for he had not been given vouchers for the exclusive club, which was run by strict hostesses, and it was a sore point with him. ‘Another time perhaps,’ he said. ‘Perhaps we might visit the theatre one evening - just you, Miss Hamilton and I?’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ Lady Standen said. ‘I should naturally wish to oblige you, sir – but we have engagements for every evening from now on for at least two weeks. Perhaps we shall meet at some of the affairs we both attend? You are always welcome to call on us at home, and should you wish to take my daughter driving, I should be happy to sanction it.’
‘Thank you, ma’am. I shall try to fix my interest with your daughter for one day quite soon.’
Merry could only be relieved when the evening was over. When he hinted that he would be happy to drive her out to the park one day, she put him off with vague hints that she would have to consult her diary for she had made prior arrangements for almost every day.
‘It seems that you are a popular young lady, Miss Hamilton,’ he said, hiding his annoyance with difficulty. It was clear to him that he was making little progress with her, and he decided that it might be better to make his overtures to her mother. He knew for a fact that her husband had run through her money and it was possible that he might come to some arrangement with her.
* * *
Merry sat looking out of her window as the sun came up. She had spent a restless night. Her mother had scolded her for not being kinder to Sir George and she was afraid that she was being forced towards a position that might oblige her to listen to a proposal from him. She would not accept it of course, but she might not be able to avoid letting him make it.
A sigh escaped her as she wondered where the Earl of Sutherland was, and whether he was thinking of her. If he had gone off to the country to escape the match making attempts of his sister and godmother, it did not augur well for her. He had been so very kind to her that she had begun to hope he might make her an offer himself.
Merry reviewed the other gentlemen she had met, knowing that none of them were any more acceptable to her than Sir George. Of course some were younger and more attractive, but she did not wish to marry any of them. Only one had made her feel that it would be a pleasure to be his wife, and if he did not care for her…She would prefer to remain unwed, but she was not sure that the option was open to her. She had been told that she must marry a man of consequence, a wealthy man. It was unlikely that her mother would allow her to remain unwed for long – besides, she would be happier with a home of her own, but not if she must marry someone she did not like.
The evening of her dance was coming closer. She whispered a little prayer that Sutherland would return – and that he would show some interest in her. If it only made her mother less insistent that she show favour to Sir George, it would at least give her a little more time.
She might have been happier if she had known that Sutherland was at that very moment riding hard across the heath towards London. He had been summoned urgently by his godmother, who was, her letter had said, feeling rather unwell.
* * *
‘You look well, ma’am,’ Sutherland said gazing down at Lady Rutledge as she lay on her daybed propped up against a pile of pillows, a light rug covering her legs. By her side on the wine table lay a book she had been reading and a glass of cordial. ‘When I had your letter I was anxious for I imagined you in some pain.’
‘Pain? Oh no, it was just a slight chill,’ his godmother said airily. ‘It laid me low for a couple of days, John dear, but it was good of you to come back for my sake.’
‘You know that I would always do so,’ he said and frowned at her, for he guessed that she was up to something. ‘Why did you truly send for me?’
‘I wish you to look over a piece of property for me,’ Lady Rutledge said. ‘You know that I mentioned it to you a few weeks ago. Unfortunately, I do not feel able to come with you and it might be best if a lady were to accompany you …to see things from a female point of view. The kitchen, you know…’ She gave a vague wave of her hand, which amused him for it was unlikely that she had visited a kitchen above a dozen times in her life.
Sutherland quirked his brows at her. ‘And whom did you have in mind for this awesome task, godmother?’
Lady Rutledge played with the fan that lay by her side, not looking at him as she replied, ‘I thought you might take Miss Meredith Hamilton. She is an obliging creature and I am sure that she would be happy to give you her views if you asked her.’
‘I see…’ Sutherland frowned at her. ‘I should imagine Celia might spare me an hour or so of her time if I asked.’
‘Do not be so disobliging, Sutherland!’ Lady Rutledge said crossly. ‘What is the matter with you? The gel is perfectly pleasant in every way.’
‘And would make me a suitable wife – if I were in the market for one?’
‘Do not put it so crudely,’ Lady Rutledge said. ‘I like the gel – and so does Celia. You should snap her up while you have the chance, Sutherland. I hear that she has a persistent admirer in George Rowe – though I understand she gives him no encouragement.’
‘And how do you happen to know that, ma’am?’ Sutherland was amused despite his godmother’s meddling.
‘You know that Lady Melbourne and I have been friends for years. I made it my business to know, John – and take that look off your face. It is high time you found yourself a wife and settled down.’
‘Yes, perhaps you are right,’ he replied, a little smile flickering on his mouth as he gave her a look of affection. ‘I am aware that both you and my sister are concerned for my welfare, but I can assure you that I need no help from either of you. When I am ready to ask a lady to be my wife, I shall do so…’
‘Are you thinking of making an offer to someone?’ Lady Rutledge asked and looked cross when she saw that she would not receive an answer. ‘You are a trial to me, Sutherland, but I suppose that you will tell me when you are ready.’
‘If and when the lady accepts me, you shall be the first to know,’ he promised her. ‘And now I shall leave you for I have things to do…’
* * *
Annabel had taken the opportunity to fetch some reading matter from the bookseller. It was rare indeed that they had a day with no engagements, save for that evening, when they were attending Jane and Merry’s dance. Lady Mitchell had subscribed to a new book of poetry that she wanted to read and Annabel was hoping to purchase Fanny Burney’s novel Evelina, for she admired the writer’s satirical wit. Annabel was herself not much given to the fashion for Gothic novels, preferring something with more depth.
The street was a quiet one leading off from a busy square where costers were selling their wares. A maid accompanied Annabel for her aunt did not feel it safe that she go out alone in London’s streets. Annabel stopped outside the small shop, browsing the books that had been placed on a board outside for public display. She found one of Mr Goldsmith’s novels and also a small edition of poems that she thought she might like to read. She had them in her hand and was about to enter the shop when a small boy came hurtling at her, stealing her reticule. It happened so
quickly that she was rendered immobile for a moment. But then, feeling shocked, Annabel gave a little scream and took a few steps in pursuit. Almost immediately, a man’s harsh voice from behind her commanded her to stay where she was.
‘Leave him to me, Annabel!’
Annabel could only watch as the powerful figure of Harry Wrexham went dashing by. She was still standing there, dazed and bewildered, when the owner of the shop came out and invited her in.
‘Please do come and sit down for a moment,’ he implored. ‘I am sure the gentleman will apprehend the rascal, Miss Hayes. I know the boy took your purse, but if you wish to purchase those books you may take them home and pay me when it is convenient.’
Annabel thanked him. Her aunt had been a regular patron here for some years, and it was not the loss of the few coins in her purse that had shocked her, but the suddenness of the theft.
‘Yes, you should sit down, miss,’ Annabel’s maid told her. ‘You look proper pale.’
‘Thank you, Ada, I shall,’ Annabel replied. The main reason she wished to sit down was that she would still be here when Harry Wrexham returned, for she was certain that he would come to find her, with or without her purse.
The shop owner brought a small glass of sherry for her, and Annabel took two sips to please him, setting down the glass as she saw Harry returning through the glass of the shop window. She smiled as she saw that he had recovered her reticule. He entered and bowed, handing her the purse with wry smile.
‘Oh, thank you, sir. It was lucky for me that you happened to be passing.’
‘I came to pay for a book Mr Brown was kind enough to let me take home yesterday, and to ask if he could recommend something else of equal merit.’
‘Then it was fate that brought you here at the right time,’ Annabel said, feeling that it was some kind of message. ‘I can only be grateful, sir.’ She took her purse and then frowned. ‘What did you do with the boy?’
‘Boxed his ear and sent him on his way,’ Harry said. ‘The poor little wretch was near starved. In a society that allows children to roam the streets and go hungry we must expect such incidents. I gave him a shilling to buy something to eat and told him to present himself at my lodgings if he wants work. We shall see whether he will work rather than steal for a living.’
‘Oh, these urchins are born to the trade,’ the bookseller said shaking his head sorrowfully. ‘You were too kind to him, sir. You should have handed him over to the law, for it is only strict correction that will teach him his manners.’
Annabel could see that Harry disagreed, but he merely inclined his head, keeping the sharp retort she knew was on his tongue in check.
‘May I escort you home, Miss Hayes?’ he asked. ‘I should not like to think of you walking alone, for there are other, hardened rogues on the streets.’
‘You are very kind, sir,’ Annabel said and smiled. ‘I should like that very much.’ She took some coins from her purse, which Harry had restored to her, and handed them to the bookseller, and then gave the books to her maid to carry. She tucked her arm through Harry’s and left the shop feeling pleased with the outcome. ‘Tell me,’ she said, looking up at him, ‘Do you think it is possible to alleviate the plight of children like that? I know there are philanthropists who do their best to provide some kind of shelter for the worst cases, but there must be hundreds who cannot be accommodated.’
‘I dare say there are thousands if the truth be known, and not just here but all over the country,’ Wrexham said looking angry. ‘Private charity will not mend things, though it may help some a little – we need direction from the Government.’
‘Yes, you are right,’ Annabel said, her eyes sparkling. ‘Why do you not stand for Parliament, sir? It might help our leaders look at things differently if a man like you stood up for the poor.’
‘A man like me?’ Harry grinned at her. ‘A gypsy bastard? Do you imagine that the fine gentlemen who run this country would listen to anything I have to say?’
‘You will never know unless you try, will you?’ She tilted her chin at him. ‘But that was not what I meant – You are a gentleman, sir, even if you have a few rough edges – but you are compassionate, fair and generous, and I think you would make an excellent politician.’
Harry laughed, most amused, as much by the way she tossed her head and spoke out so bravely as by her words. ‘Then I must look for a patron who will let me stand for him in his Rotten Borough, and if I pay enough shillings to the voters I may be elected.’
* * *
Merry glanced at herself in the gilt-framed mirror on her bedroom wall. She was wearing a spangled white gown that evening. It had a slender skirt, and the bodice was caught under her breasts with a deep pink sash; her slippers matched the sash exactly, and so did the pink crystal necklace that her aunt had given her as a gift for the occasion. Around her bare arms, she had draped a pink gauze stole and she wore white gloves with tiny pearl buttons to her elbows.
‘You do look lovely,’ Jane said generously as she went to her room to see if she was ready to go down. She herself was also wearing a similar white gown, but her sash was blue and around her throat she wore her mother’s sapphires, which had been loaned to her for the evening. ‘We had better go down, for Mama says we must be early.’
As the Melbournes’ town house did not have a ballroom big enough for the kind of dance Lady Melbourne thought suitable for her daughter, she had hired some rooms in a large hotel nearby. The girls would be transported there in the coach, and had therefore to be ready sooner than if the dance had been held at home.
‘It is very warm,’ Jane said as they went outside. ‘I do hope that there will be plenty of air this evening. It gets so stuffy sometimes when a reception is crowded.’
‘Your Mama told me that the ballroom is on the ground floor of the hotel, and she says that there are French windows opening onto the gardens. I dare say we shall be able to walk on the terrace if it is too hot.’
‘Oh, that is a relief,’ Jane said. ‘I felt close to fainting at that crush we went to last week.’ She smothered a sigh for she would have preferred it if her mother had given just a small dance for them that they might have held at home, as many others did, but Lady Melbourne was in no mind to be outdone. She was determined that her dance was to be one of the most prestigious of the season.
This became apparent when they entered the ballroom and discovered that she was already there, directing last minute changes to the flowers and the amount of champagne that would be needed.
‘The champagne must flow all evening, and must be the finest you can provide,’ she was telling the manager as the girls entered. ‘Ah, there you are, my dears. You look very well. Ask one of the maids to show you where to put your wraps. Ten bedrooms have been provided for the ladies, but there is one just for us. I shall go up now and tidy myself. Our first guests should arrive in a few moments. Merry, your mother is lying down for a few minutes. I think she has a headache.’
‘Poor Mama,’ Merry said. ‘Is she in the bedroom you said was ours?’ Lady Melbourne nodded. ‘I shall go and see if there is anything she requires.’
‘There is no need. I am going up now. You and Jane must stay here in case anyone arrives before I come down.’
Merry agreed for she had taken leave of her mother earlier and was still smarting from Lady Standen’s last words to her.
‘You should make a push to secure Sir George Rowe,’ she had told Merry when she inspected the gown her daughter would be wearing that evening. ‘He is respectable and wealthy, and I see no reason why you should not be satisfied. I had hoped for a more prestigious match, but since I see no sign that you are willing to oblige me in this, Sir George will do well enough.’
‘I do not like him, Mama. He looks at me in a way that makes me feel sick…and he smells unpleasant.’
‘Be quiet, you foolish girl! You are too particular. If you do not oblige me in this, I may carry out my threat.’ Lady Standen knew that she had no hope of relea
sing her daughter’s trust fund unless she could prove that the girl was unstable, in which case she might apply to the court to have custody of her money. Her own circumstances were difficult to say the least, and she had no hope of rescuing the situation. However, Sir George had hinted that he might be willing to make her a small settlement if she could bring Merry to the point. ‘It is marriage or a house of correction. Make your choice, Meredith.’
Merry had met her fierce stare stubbornly. Her mother’s threats frightened her, but she would not marry that man…she could not! She did not truly believe it would happen, for she knew that her aunt was on her side, but her mother had succeeded in casting a shadow over an evening that had been meant to be happy. However, she was determined not to let anyone guess that she was distressed, and smiled at her cousin. Somehow, she would prevent Sir George from proposing to her that evening, and then she would speak to her aunt and ask her to help her.
* * *
The first guests to arrive were Annabel and Lady Mitchell. Merry had asked them to come early and they did so, exclaiming over the banks of scented white lilies and gardenias which had been set up at one end of the huge ballroom. Three reception rooms had been put at their disposal, and besides the sumptuous buffet that would be provided later in the evening, there were waiters circulating with trays, providing champagne to everyone who arrived.
‘You do look lovely, Merry,’ Annabel said and kissed her cheek. ‘And you, Jane.’ She was also dressed in a white gown trimmed with brilliants and little knots of yellow ribbons. Annabel carried a tribute of yellow roses, as all the girls did, though the flowers varied from posy to posy. She whispered to Merry that they had come to her from Viscount Wrexham.