Sussex Summer

by Lucy Muir

  Jamie insisted they all go down to the beach to observe the bathing machines on their way back to Lord Staplefield’s town house. The party stood together and watched interestedly as the small wooden chambers on wheels were drawn into the sea by patient horses until the floor of the chamber was level with the water. Then the attendant switched the horse to the other end and knocked upon the door of the compartment, which was facing seaward.

  “Now the people in the compartment can open the door to the sea and get into the water without being seen,” Jamie explained to Fanny.

  “I should like to try it,” Fanny observed. “I am certain the sea water must be beneficial.”

  “Many think so,” said Lord Staplefield. “And you could be seen by the Prince.” He pointed to a hill where the ray’s rays glinted off an unseen object. “He and his friends often go there with spyglasses to watch the ladies bathing. So, you see, the bathers are not as unseen as they might think.”

  Fanny laughed. “I wonder why—the bathing dresses are very concealing.”

  “Perhaps he looks through the windows of the machines into the compartments,” Lord Blackwood said to Jane, sotto voce.

  Jane felt herself flush at this improper comment and looked askance at Lord Blackwood, who smiled at her mischievously and dropped his right eyelid in an improper wink. Unable to help herself, Jane smiled back. Lord Blackwood had not attempted to kiss her again since the dinner at the Archers’, but Jane felt some of his looks and words were almost more suggestive than actions. She was not quite sure how she felt about him. She was attracted to Lord Blackwood, but at the same time she was not insensitive to the dangers of the attraction. She sensed, more than Captain Tremaine realised, the risks of associating with such a man.

  Christopher proposed the group lunch at one of the inns near the sea, and Jane seconded the proposal, grateful for the interruption to her thoughts.

  After the lunch, the friends walked slowly back to Lord Staplefields’s town house, arriving just in time for tea.

  “Perhaps tomorrow we shall be able to go shopping if you and your sister have finished gawking,” Lady Juliette said to Jane in a low voice as she joined the sisters on a long sofa.

  “I am sorry we kept you from your shopping,” Jane replied equably, but Fanny looked at Lady Juliette resentfully.

  A maid wheeled in the tea service, and Lady Martin presided over the teapot. As she handed a cup to Fanny, who sat on the far side of Lady Juliette, Fanny seemed to falter and sloshed a little into Lady Juliette’s lap.

  “You clumsy fool,” Lady Juliette said, leaping up and looking down at the stain on her blue silk dress.

  “Please forgive me, Lady Juliette,” Fanny said, her large eyes filling with tears. “I fear I have overexerted today. I find I am quite shaky. I must not yet be as robust as I thought.”

  “I cannot think that it is beyond your strength to hold a teacup,” Lady Juliette said caustically.

  Jane saw the disapproving looks on the faces of the others, except Lady Martin and Lord Blackwood, whose expression was purposely bland.

  “I say, Lady Juliette, it was not Fanny’s fault. She is not fully recovered from her illness!” Jamie was moved to exclaim.

  Lady Juliette, realising the sentiment was in favour of Fanny, modified her tone, but soon left the room, followed by Lady Martin. Jane looked at Fanny in puzzlement. For a moment she had thought Fanny’s action deliberate, but seeing her tear-filled eyes, Jane found it was difficult to believe. Fanny appeared quite crushed by her clumsy action. Perhaps she had not regained as much strength in the past weeks as Jane had thought.

  “Why do we not go upstairs as well, and you can rest awhile before dinner,” Jane suggested quietly. Fanny acquiesced, and the sisters left the room, followed by expressions of concern from the others.

  The next morning, Lord Staplefield and Edward excused themselves from the planned shopping expedition, claiming business they had to attend to. Lord Blackwood, Christopher and Jamie professed themselves willing to act as escorts, and they set out with the four women for the shops of Brighton. Their party soon lost two of its members, for Jamie and Chris disappeared into the tailor’s to order some of the new trousers they had seen the day before, determined to be the first in their district of Sussex to wear the most current fashion, and it was Lord Blackwood who ended up as their sole escort.

  They stopped first at the haberdashers. Jane and Fanny, used to the limited selection in Staplefield, were much impressed by the availability of fine yard-goods, and even the presence of Lady Juliette and her aunt did not dim their enthusiasm. There were pastel foulards, rich-looking gros de Naples, delicate jaconets, fine valencias and exquisite tulles. The sisters’ enthusiasm did dim a little at the prices, but Lady Juliette spent freely, ordering brightly coloured fine silks for her costume. She would not reveal what her costume was to be, but said her maid was going to make it up so that she could be sure it would remain a secret until the night of the masquerade.

  Jane and Fanny accepted that they could not purchase much, but they did buy some jonquil-coloured jaconet for new frocks. Fanny also bought a new shawl of fine wool, and Jane allowed herself to be persuaded to buy a length of pale pink sarcenet that Lord Blackwood insisted would flatter her complection.

  Lady Juliette was in her element among the fashionable shops, and the sisters were surprised to find themselves actually enjoying her company as they went from the haberdasher’s to the milliner’s and finally the jeweller’s, returning to Lord Staplefield’s house laden with parcels and having left even more to be delivered.

  Edward and Lord Staplefield had set out together after parting from the women, but Lord Staplefield parted from Edward to return to the Royal Pavilion. As a titled member of the aristocracy, he was expected to pay his respects to the Prince when in Town. Edward walked on into Brighton where he had an appointment to meet Sir Howard at a coffeehouse to discuss Sir John Moore.

  Edward knew instinctively who Sir Howard was when he saw a distinguished-looking gentleman of about five-and-thirty at a table by a window.

  “Captain Edward Tremaine, at your service,” Edward introduced himself with a bow.

  “Sir Howard Douglas,” the man responded, standing and grasping Edward’s hand firmly. He invited Edward to sit and ordered more coffee.

  “I understand from Colonel Fisher that you are concerned with the traducement of Sir John Moore,” Sir Howard began after they had exchanged more civilities.

  “Yes, I served under him on the Peninsula, and cannot as an honourable man accept the calumny being heaped unjustly on my former commander.”

  “It’s a sentiment that does you credit, but not one shared by many, I am afraid,” Sir Howard said with a sigh. “Have you seen the most recent articles?” he asked, handing Edward a newspaper.

  Edward read the article Sir Howard indicated, and a wrathful expression clouded his face.

  “Bonaparte-struck! They dare to say that Sir John was Bonaparte-struck!” Edward cried, bringing his fist down upon the table in his anger and frustration.

  “It is not only what’s being written in the papers,” Sir Howard informed him. “Why, the only monument that’s been put where he fell was erected by the Spanish commander. Country’s gone Wellesley-mad and blaming all that’s wrong on Sir John. Not that Wellesley isn’t a fine general, but if he hadn’t inherited the situation he did from Sir John he’d not have been as successful.”

  Sir Howard shook his head sadly. “It’s a sad commentary on us when the only ones to do an English commander justice are foreigners. At least the French give him credit for his accomplishments.”

  Edward’s face looked bleak. “What can we do? I tried talking to Canning and Castlereagh with no success.”

  “You’ll get nowhere with those two. I’ve given it a great deal of thought, and I believe the Prince is the only way to go. Do you know anyone with his ear?”

  “The only person I know with the Prince’s ear has no connection with
the military,” Edward said glumly, thinking of Lord Staplefield.

  “Well, I have a slight acquaintance with HRH. If I cannot find anyone with more influence to approach him, I plan to place the case before the Prince myself.” He took a sheet of paper and a pen from his pocket. “I shall need as much information as possible. Would you be willing to tell me what you know about the campaign?”

  “Gladly,” Edward replied. Happy to be able to do something, however little, Edward told Sir Howard of his experience with Sir John on the Peninsula.

  “Do you know what Sir John said just before he died?” Edward finished bitterly. “‘I hope my country will do me justice.’”

  The two men sat in silence a moment, thinking of Sir John’s ironically prophetic words as he lay dying.

  “Tremaine. What are you doing in Brighton?” a voice hailed. “I thought you’d be up in London.”

  Edward looked up in surprise to see Colonel Wentworth.

  “London?” he asked after introducing Colonel Wentworth to Sir Howard. “Why London?”

  “Did you not receive my letter telling you about James Moore and suggesting you make a trip to London to see him?”

  “Sir John’s brother?” Sir Howard asked.

  “Yes,” Colonel Wentworth answered, sitting down at their table. “He is also concerned about the defamatory things being said of his brother and plans to write a book to vindicate him. 1 thought you might be able to help—give him some information he might not otherwise obtain.”

  Edward looked puzzled. “I did not receive a letter. I thought you had been unable to assist me. How very odd.”

  “Advise you to question your servants, although it’s possible it was lost. Well, no great harm done. Here,” Colonel Wentworth said, borrowing Sir Howard’s paper and pen, “I shall give you his direction now and you can write directly.”

  When Edward left the coffeehouse an hour later, James Moore’s direction safe in his coat, he felt more optimistic about clearing Sir John’s name than he had in weeks, but he was also mystified about the letter. Whatever could have happened to it?

  That afternoon as she sat in the drawing room of Lord Staplefield’s townhouse having tea, Jane was amused to see that Lady Juliette seated herself as far away as possible from Fanny. She wished to avoid any further accidents, Jane supposed.

  While they were discussing the day’s purchases with Jamie and Christopher, who were sporting their new trousers, Lord Staplefield returned. He was carrying two small parcels, which he handed to Jane and Fanny, smiling broadly.

  “I spoke to the Prince and told him of your admiration of the Pavilion, Miss Hampton, Miss Fanny. HRH was highly gratified and insisted on sending you each a small token.”

  Curiously, Jane and Fanny opened their parcels. They contained exquisite fans of painted silk and ivory, identical except for their colour. The sticks of the fans were of delicately pierced ivory, and the ivory guards were beautifully inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Even the most particular could not deny they were in excellent taste, and Lady Juliette and her aunt had disgruntled expressions on their faces as the others admired the Prince’s gifts.

  Later that evening Lady Juliette, her aunt, Lord Blackwood and Edward departed to attend an assembly, but Jane and Fanny begged to be excused. The day’s shopping had fatigued them, and they would need to rise early the next morning for their journey home.

  They woke refreshed the next morning, ready to brave the long ride home in the presence of Lady Martin. When they all gathered after breakfast, waiting for the servants to load their luggage, Jane noticed the earl was once again clad in his old-fashioned clothes and wig.

  “I wonder you do not wait and change into your old-style clothes at the village, rather than wearing them all the way home, Lord Staplefield,” Jamie bravely commented.

  “By the mass, I find I am coming to prefer these styles,” the earl proclaimed. “I’d as lief be comfortable, and loose is more comfortable than the new tight fashions.”

  “Is it truly necessary for you to speak as well as dress three-score years out of fashion?” asked Lady Juliette rather waspishly, by now suspecting the accent was put on for her benefit.

  Jane looked at Lady Juliette in surprise. Lady Juliette was usually most circumspect in her behaviour around the earl, whatever she might have been thinking.

  “Odd words and expressions, Lady Juliette, what do ye mean?” Lord Staplefield asked, an innocent expression on his face.

  Lady Juliette bit her lip and walked to her carriage, clearly not trusting her temper. No doubt, Jane thought, she was tired from the late night and unhappy to be returning to the country. Edward and Perkins climbed into the carriage after her.

  As the carriage rolled onto the busy street on their way back to Haverton Park, Edward stared out the window broodingly. He wished he were recovered enough to ride horseback instead of being forced to ride in a carriage, even if it was with Lady Juliette. The trip had been tiring even though he had been heartened to find there were others interested in clearing Sir John’s name besides himself. And it was good to know Colonel Wentworth had not let him down. It was a puzzle about the missing letter, though, Edward mused. He would have to question Dawkins about it.

  “What are you thinking of so seriously?” Lady Juliette asked, a trace of ill temper still evident in her voice. Perkins, recognizing the tone, tried to move farther into the seat corner, hoping her mistress’s irritation would not be directed to her.

  Edward turned to Lady Juliette with a smile, recalling his manners.

  “Please forgive my inattention, Lady Juliette. It is only that I am disturbed by something I found out in Brighton,” he began, and went on to explain about the letter.

  Hoping no trace of guilt showed in her face, Lady Juliette tried to persuade Edward to let the matter drop.

  “Why do you not forget the whole thing? If it has turned out well, and it evidently has, what is the difference? Now you have learned the brother is going to vindicate Sir John, you may forget the matter. Leave it to him.”

  At first Edward was shocked at Lady Juliette’s seemingly unfeeling words. Then he realised that a woman could not be expected to understand how an officer would feel about his commander. Although, a voice in the back of his mind said, Jane had understood.

  “It would not be honourable for me to do that, Lady Juliette,” he explained gently. “Besides, I may be able to give James Moore information he would otherwise lack.”

  “Well, if you feel you must,” Lady Juliette replied impatiently, sick to death of the subject. She thought that if it were not for the fact that she wished the earl to think Edward was still competition, she would rather ride with her aunt and leave Jane and Fanny to prosy Edward, whether the Hamptons had a chaperone or not. The captain was extremely poor company.

  Juliette’s thoughts returned to the earl, and his reappearance in his old-style clothes this morning. When she married him she would insist he contest the will and stop wearing those outlandish old fashions. She was certainly not going to wear hoops, panniers and wigs.

  On the seat across from Lady Juliette, Edward also wished he were riding with another. He thought again of Jane and how warm and understanding she was. Then he glanced guiltily at his travelling companion and forced himself to be more charitable to Lady Juliette. No doubt a great deal of Jane’s compassion came from her upbringing as a vicar’s daughter. He could not blame Lady Juliette for her different background. But there were certainly aspects of her personality he did not care for. Although, he told himself, there were probably things about any woman he would not like if he got to know her well enough. He sighed inaudibly and settled down for a long, boring journey home.

  Chapter Eleven

  One of the first things Edward did upon returning to Haverton Park was to question Dawkins about the letter.

  “Dawkins,” he asked the morning after his return, “do you remember a letter about two weeks ago that came from Colonel Wentworth?”

  D
awkins, sensing the question was important, thought carefully before answering.

  “Yes, Captain Tremaine, I do recall such a letter. It was with several others on the salver in the hall. I was just going to take them up when Lady Tremaine required my presence. When I went back, it was missing. I assumed you had seen it and taken it from the salver. I am sorry if I did wrong,” he finished, looking stricken at the idea of having provided anything but the very best of service.

  “No, it is of no consequence,” Edward assured him. “Perhaps it fell behind a piece of furniture or was taken by accident,” suggested Edward.

  “I do recall passing her ladyship in the hall, Captain Tremaine, but no one else.”

  “Her ladyship?” Edward repeated.

  “The Lady Juliette Blackwood,” Dawkins elaborated. “She was on her way upstairs.”

  Edward thanked Dawkins and dismissed him. Lady Juliette, he mused. Could it be possible? But why would she take a letter from Colonel Wentworth? He dismissed the thought as unworthy, deciding it was a mystery that would remain unsolved, but his thoughts remained on Lady Juliette.

  He sat in a wing-back chair upholstered in green brocade and leaned back into it thoughtfully. When he had invited Lady Juliette to Haverton Park in July, he had fully intended that her visit end in a proposal of marriage. Now—now he realised he did not wish to make her an offer. The past six weeks had brought out aspects of her character he did not care to see in one to be his wife.

  He stared blindly at the book-lined wall. Lady Juliette was beautiful; no one could deny that. She was also a superb horsewoman, a talented musician and a witty conversationalist when she chose to be. But he was beginning to think she lacked what he felt was most important—a heart.

  An accumulation of small incidents had disclosed her lack of compassion and kindness. There was her jealousy of other women, her impatience with anyone or anything not directly concerned with herself, and most of all, the way she allowed her aunt to make unkind comments to the Hamptons. There was also the mystery of the letter. He could not be certain, of course, but it was odd it had disappeared at a time Dawkins observed her in the hall. Nor was he blind to the way she flirted with the earl. At first he had thought it was just her nature, but he knew now that she would much rather receive an offer from Lord Staplefield than from him.