In All Honour

by Beth Elliott

  ‘Do you not want to go?’

  She could hear the disappointment in Lizzie’s voice. She tried to summon up a cheerful look. ‘Who else is likely to join us?’

  ‘Well, I did hope to persuade your brother, but he seems to be a little out of sorts this morning.’

  ‘I fear James is often like that. And it would be miraculous if you could persuade him to be up and out at the time we would need to set off if we are to travel to Wells and back in daylight at this time of year.’

  Lizzie settled in an armchair by the fire. She raised a foot to examine her boot. ‘How wet everything is today,’ she said crossly. ‘I shall have to change these now. I did want to go for a proper walk. It is no distance to the Pump Room.’

  Sarah smiled. ‘It is if you are General Gardiner with a gouty foot. Thank goodness for sedan chairs. I take it you have left him there?’

  ‘Left him! Just try and winkle him out. He has met some old friends and I think they will be there all day, talking and playing cards.’

  The door knocker sounded just as Lizzie had got the first boot off. She thrust it behind her chair and tucked her foot under her dress. Then the door opened and Greg made his way into the room. Sarah noticed that he now looked as pleasant and good-humoured as ever. Whatever had caused that grim expression, he had overcome it.

  ‘I was passing and decided to see if you were safe and dry again,’ he said to Sarah. ‘I am glad to find you looking more relaxed than you were earlier.’

  ‘Yes, what did happen to prevent you from joining me?’ Lizzie chimed in. ‘I had quite forgotten in all the excitement.’ She glanced from Greg to Sarah a little suspiciously. ‘What have you been getting up to?’

  Sarah was twisting her curl before she could stop herself. ‘Nothing at all, I got very wet and was so cold I could not stay at the Pump Room.’ She cast a sideways glance at Greg. There was a gleam in his eyes. She forced her hand out of her hair and smoothed the neck of her gown. Greg’s eyes followed her fingers. To her annoyance, Sarah felt a blush creep up her cheeks. She deliberately folded her hands in her lap and raised her chin.

  Greg waited a few minutes, his eyes hopeful. When she did not move he heaved a sigh and moved towards the door. ‘Since all is well and you are so cosy, I will not intrude further on your time, ladies.’ He was already turning the handle when Sarah remembered her manners.

  ‘Mr Thatcham, thank you for your help this morning….’

  His eyes glinted at her. ‘Glad to be of service. Now or indeed, at any time.’

  ‘Oh, that reminds me,’ Lizzie exclaimed, ‘we are planning a visit to Wells. Would you like to join the party?’

  ‘Lizzie, you are a minx,’ he said. ‘You mean, will I drive you?’

  She nodded and grinned at him.

  He shook his head. ‘We cannot go three in one curricle. And until the weather improves, it is out of the question.’

  ‘Oh,’ she pouted, ‘I do so want to see the cathedral.’

  ‘You will,’ he promised. ‘Just have a little patience.’ The door closed behind him.

  ‘Well!’ said Lizzie with another pout, as she returned to pulling off her other boot, ‘if he is going to be so disobliging, I shall ask Lord Percival to take us.’

  Sarah had been lost in a little dream, but at this she sat up with a jerk. ‘How could you even consider going on such an expedition with him?’

  ‘Just because you do not like him it does not mean everyone must do so. I find him very polished and handsome.’

  ‘Oh Lizzie, beware.’

  Lizzie wriggled her toes towards the blaze in the hearth. She gave Sarah a long look. ‘You really do dislike him so much?’

  ‘I mistrust him. Truly, Lizzie, he is the last man to make into a friend. He has a dreadful reputation—’

  ‘So, someone will reform him.’ Lizzie tossed her head. ‘Would that not be a good idea?’

  ‘I fear he is past redemption,’ Sarah snapped. She bent her head over her book. The words would not make sense, however. This was an intolerable situation. Between Greg on the one hand and Lord Percival on the other, her days were a constant source of misery and problems. She frowned at the page but the letters just blurred.

  ‘Sarah.’ It was a very little voice.

  Sarah shook her head and kept her face bent over her novel. The next instant, Lizzie flew across the room and slipped an arm round her neck.

  ‘Oh, Sarah, dear, I promise not to tease you. I can see you are upset.’

  Sarah blinked and sniffed. ‘Never mind me, Lizzie. I am fine again now. But please do not ask Lord Percival to join any outings you plan to make. It would do your reputation a great deal of damage.’ She had to smile at her friend’s disappointed face. ‘I daresay you can stand up with him for a dance now and then without causing any scandal.’

  Lizzie considered this. ‘Why is that acceptable?’

  ‘Because he can hardly do you any harm in a ballroom, with all the chaperons looking on.’ She tilted her head on one side. ‘Do you remember how you used to fall in love with all the singing and drawing masters who came to the school?’

  ‘I was young then,’ said Lizzie indignantly.

  ‘You still are. This is no different. But why do you not feel enthusiastic about Mr Keating? He is a very pleasant young man.’

  Lizzie considered the question. She went back to her seat and held her hands out to the warm blaze in the hearth. ‘I suppose,’ she said at length, ‘that he is very good-looking … and pleasant but … not exciting.’ After another pause, she gave Sarah a sideways glance. ‘And, in any event, I noticed at the assembly that he was very taken with you.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘Bath is really living up to its name,’ remarked General Gardiner. He took off his spectacles and laid aside his newspaper. ‘What do you girls plan to do today in this wet weather? Apart from getting a bath in the street, of course?’ He beamed proudly at his mild joke.

  Lizzie buttered another slice of bread and reached for the honey pot. ‘All our plans have to wait,’ she said with a little sigh. ‘A walk to Beechen Cliff, a ride to Wells … we cannot do either in this endless rain.’

  Her uncle shook his head. ‘No rides out of town without a proper chaperon,’ he said firmly. ‘Is that understood?’

  Lizzie gave him an innocent look. ‘But if we go in a group, surely there is nothing wrong in that.’

  ‘Miss Lizzie,’ said her fond uncle in a despairing tone, ‘I allow you a great deal of freedom. But I will not have you giving the Bath tabbies anything on which to speculate. You can be sure that your Aunt Augusta is getting regular reports from some of them.’

  ‘Oh no!’ gasped Lizzie. ‘I had not thought of her. She never stirs from Sussex. Why should she take an interest in what I do here?’

  ‘You would do well to remember that she has friends everywhere. Any hint of gossip about you and we shall have her descending on us with her parrot and that pug dog she dotes on.’

  Lizzie looked horrified. ‘But the pug is smelly. And Aunt is much too strict—’

  ‘Aha!’ General Gardiner pushed back his chair and rose painfully to his feet. He nodded at her. ‘So you do acknowledge that I am easier to deal with, hey, miss? Well, while it is so wet, perhaps you can make the time to write her a civil letter. Tell her how you are improving your mind with serious reading.’ He winked at Sarah. ‘I assume it is serious reading … I can see by the way you turn the pages so eagerly. But the titles of some of ’em leave me wondering. What was that last one I saw you with? Umberto and the Maiden….’ He pursed his lips. ‘Clanking chains and ghostly apparitions, kidnapped damsels and highwaymen, if I know anything about it.’

  ‘Have you been reading my book when I was not there?’ exclaimed his niece, her eyes open very wide.

  Her uncle burst out laughing. ‘No, but I know the style of thing you enjoy.’

  There came a discreet tap at the door and his valet entered, a twist of paper in his hand.


  ‘Your sedan chair is here, sir, to convey you to the Pump Room. And this message has just been delivered for Miss Sarah.’

  The general had not reached the door when Sarah exclaimed, ‘Here is the answer to your desire for exercise, Lizzie. Mrs Keating invites us to Laura Place for dancing practice at two o’clock. She writes that she wishes to be certain Lavinia can dance the waltz, even if she may not do so in public.’

  Lizzie brightened up at once. ‘Oh, that will be an agreeable way to spend the day.’ She looked at her uncle. ‘But do you think Aunt Augusta would approve?’

  He waved a hand airily. ‘It sounds unexceptionable to me. But do not forget the letter, now.’

  Mrs Keating had found two other young ladies to invite. ‘But we are a little short of gentlemen,’ she told Sarah and Lizzie when they arrived. ‘However, Monsieur Lebrun will no doubt partner one young lady as he demonstrates the steps. He is the best dancing master in Bath.’

  Everyone soon found that Monsieur Lebrun had an eagle eye for the smallest fault and he demanded perfection. He himself moved with such grace that all the young couples exerted themselves to copy his movements. He kept them hard at work for an hour before he allowed them a brief pause to catch their breath.

  At this point Mrs Keating signed to her butler to bring in refreshments. She engaged Monsieur Lebrun in conversation while the young people tried to cool down. Sarah willingly accepted the glass of lemonade brought to her by John Keating.

  ‘It is very good of you to give your time, Miss Davenport.’ He smiled at her warmly. ‘One has only to see you dance to realize you do not need any tuition.’

  ‘Why, thank you. But you flatter me. I assure you, I do not have many opportunities to take part in dances and this extra practice is most useful.’ She sipped her lemonade. ‘Particularly with such an excellent teacher.’

  He nodded. ‘My mother is most anxious that Lavinia should feel confident before she goes to London next month.’

  Sarah’s eyes went to where Lavinia was talking to Lizzie and Lucas Wilden.

  ‘I am sure she will be a credit to you. You are a careful brother.’ Unlike mine, she thought. His eyes met hers and she knew the same thought was going through his mind. She set her glass down and glanced across at Lavinia once more. ‘It seems to me that your sister simply needed to find companions of her own age. Just see how she is enjoying herself now.’

  He inclined his head. ‘You are quite right. And what about yourself, Miss Davenport? Are you comfortably settled in Bath?’

  She gave him a quick glance, but his face when he looked up from refilling her glass was merely polite. Could there be any ulterior motive behind his question? Probably not. Even so, her hand stole up to pull at a curl by her ear.

  ‘You are aware that I know the town well, sir….’ she was saying, when the butler came in and spoke to his mistress. Mrs Keating rose. Her son’s attention was diverted. A moment later, Greg walked into the room. He bowed to Mrs Keating who led him towards the dancing master. They spoke together for a few minutes.

  ‘You will be able to take a rest, now we have reinforcements,’ said Sarah.

  John Keating gave her a steady look. A smile curved his mouth.

  ‘I do not think I want to take a rest. I am enjoying myself far more than I had anticipated.’

  Sarah’s breath came a little faster. Her lips parted but she could not think how to reply to this. He moved closer. ‘We shall soon start dancing again,’ he said. ‘We have done with the cotillion, and the quadrille. Now we shall waltz.’ His eyes gleamed, ‘I do look forward to that.’

  Then a voice spoke from behind them. ‘I must apologize for my late arrival, Keating. I was out of town this morning and only found my invitation when I arrived home just now. I have come in all haste to bear my part. I understand I am in time to join in the waltzing.’

  ‘Ah yes, I recall Miss Gardiner said you were a member of Wellington’s staff. They are all famous for their dancing ability.’ Mr Keating’s voice was not so cordial now.

  Greg laughed. ‘I do not know if I deserve the label of being a famous dancer. But it was a good way to spend evenings in camp when there was no prospect of military action.’ He glanced away for a moment. Sarah thought she could see regret in his face, but the next second he was smiling at her.

  ‘Might I ask you to be my partner?’

  She would have loved to accept but Mr Keating had asked first. ‘Perhaps after the first dance,’ she said, ‘or perhaps I should say the first attempt. You will find that Monsieur Lebrun is very exacting.’

  When they took the floor shortly afterwards, Greg was partnering Lavinia. Sarah’s eyes kept straying to them as she twirled around with John Keating. Sarah bit back a smile as she noticed that Lavinia was very shy and her cheeks were scarlet at having Greg’s hand actually on her waist. Monsieur Lebrun’s frequent instructions soon diverted her mind to her steps, however.

  ‘Your sister is an apt pupil,’ she told Mr Keating.

  ‘I am very glad to learn that you were observing her,’ he replied. ‘I rather thought it was her partner who was holding your attention.’

  Sarah raised her eyes quickly to his face. He gave her a rueful smile. The colour crept into her cheeks. Was she so easy to read? She made some comment about Monsieur Lebrun’s perfectionism. Mr Keating allowed this diversion. But when the dance came to an end, he kissed her hand and gave her a keen look before turning to his sister.

  ‘Well done,’ he told her. ‘Miss Davenport and I have been observing your progress. Now I feel you should try with Lucas. You need to feel confident with a variety of partners.’ His eyes were on Sarah as he spoke.

  Greg came over to Sarah. His eyes shone at her. ‘I do like it when you do that,’ he grinned.

  ‘Do what? Oh!’ she exclaimed, vexed. She was twisting her curls again.

  Before she could put her hair to rights Monsieur Lebrun was tapping his cane for everyone to begin the next dance. Greg held out his hand and she placed hers in it. She felt his other hand lightly clasping her waist. Then the music began and the rhythm flowed through her. Greg danced perfectly and they twirled and stepped lightly into a dream of sound and motion. They stepped and spun in a wordless harmony until the music stopped – far too soon for Sarah, who now seemed to herself to be dropping back down to earth from a great height.

  She met Greg’s eyes. His were heavy-lidded, dreamy. He was standing so close his broad chest almost touched her when he drew a slow, deep breath. He leaned even closer. For a heart stopping second it seemed as if he was going to kiss her. And if he did, she knew she would kiss him back, in spite of the other people in the room.

  Then one of the girls laughed and the sound shattered the spell. Greg turned his head as if realizing where he was. His eyes opened wide. He took a step back and made her a bow. Somewhere behind him, Sarah saw John Keating watching them. His face was serious. When he caught her eye, he gave her a long look.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Greg forced up his right arm to adjust his neckcloth. His hand accomplished the task but the protesting muscles in his upper arm made him grit his teeth. He surveyed himself in the mirror and nodded. It would do. His valet held up the coat of dark-blue cloth.

  ‘There you are, Major,’ he said, as he assisted Greg into it. His tone was reproachful. ‘This one is nice and dry an’ brushed again.’ He smoothed away a wrinkle from across the shoulders. ‘All this watchin’ an’ walkin’ you be doin’ in the rain, it makes life difficult, sir. Tryin’ to get your coats dry and your boots to shine….’ He pursed his lips and cast a shrewd glance at his master. ‘An’ that arm of yours not right yet by a long way, as I can see.’

  Greg frowned at him. ‘You disrespectful old dog, Preston. Just stick to being a gentleman’s gentleman. We are not in the army now.’

  ‘No, sir,’ agreed Preston regretfully. He sighed. ‘Life is uncommon quiet at present, as one would expect in Bath. And yet….’ He gave his master a keen look as he held
out a dazzlingly white handkerchief.

  Greg pocketed it. ‘You never know,’ he said, ‘we might just be about to have an adventure.’

  Preston’s leathery face brightened. ‘I knew it! You can call on me, Major.’

  ‘In the meanwhile,’ said Greg, turning round in the open doorway, ‘there is another set of wet clothes to attend to.’ He laughed at the sudden change of expression on his valet’s face and left the room.

  He was still smiling as he ran down the stairs. Preston was a useful man in a fight. He had been Greg’s loyal companion on a variety of missions during their years in Wellington’s Army. It was due to Preston’s efforts that Greg had escaped from more than one trap laid by the French during his many secret journeys between the two armies.

  Greg stepped outside and looked up at the night sky. A few stars showed overhead. Thank heavens the rain had stopped at last. He set off down Great Pulteney Street at a brisk pace. From time to time he checked but could not see that anyone was following him. It was very quiet at this time. There were a few well-lit windows but the majority were in darkness, signalling that people were still out, making the most of Bath’s pleasures.

  He had spent the past two days getting soaked as he discreetly followed James Davenport and George Percival during their outings round the town. It was no surprise to discover that Lord Percival was lodging in the elegant Circus. Aman of his arrogance obviously wished to impress all his acquaintance by demonstrating his wealth and taste for high living. Lord Davenport, on the other hand, was staying in Westgate Buildings. That indicated how short of funds he must be.

  Greg sighed as he considered the probable situation. Here was another young man, dazzled by being admitted into the circle of a more experienced man of fashion, obviously wealthy and with a taste for rakish pleasures. No doubt young Davenport was in the throes of hero worship. And when he finally woke up to the truth, he would be penniless. Well, he would not be the first to suffer from such a sad lack of judgement.