To Catch a Husband...

by Sarah Mallory

  After a slight pause she said, ‘Please, Mr Blackwood, do not think too badly of me: a good marriage is my mother’s dearest wish and I must not disappoint her.’

  She held her breath. There was no explosion, no angry retort.

  After a moment he said coolly, ‘If that is what you want then I wish you every success. There is the interval bell—shall we return to the box?’

  Kitty awoke the next day to find the early morning sunshine flooding into her room, but she was conscious only of a dull depression. She sipped thoughtfully at her hot chocolate, trying to work out why there should be such a cloud over her spirits.

  The visit to the opera had been a success: nothing had occurred to mar the good humour of the party. Lord Harworth had been an attentive host; the performance had been entertaining—the ostrich and the elephant most diverting—and her companions agreeable. There had been no cross words or spiteful comments to spoil her enjoyment. She allowed her mind to dwell upon Daniel. He had said nothing out of the way, had been polite and gentlemanlike during their brief walk together and after that first mention of Barnet had assured her that the matter would not be mentioned again. His manner for the remainder of the evening had been no less gentlemanlike and he had taken his leave of her with his usual calm friendliness, but Kitty had the uncomfortable feeling that he had withdrawn from her. It did not matter, of course: despite what he had said at the Rising Sun they were not really friends—no more than mere acquaintances—but she was disturbed to find that she did not like the thought that somehow she had disappointed him.

  The depression did not lift all day, but Kitty was able to push it to the back of her mind while she accompanied her godmother on a shopping expedition and later drove in the park with Ann, who was full of excitement over the forthcoming birthday celebrations her mother had arranged.

  ‘Bertram is taking us north to Kirkleigh Hall the following week so this will be our last party of the Season,’ Ann told her. ‘I do hope the dry weather holds, for Mama is going to throw open the doors to the garden and hang coloured lamps from the trees. I think it will look magical, do not you? I cannot wait for you to see it. Bertram tells me that Mr Blackwood is engaged to dine out that evening so there will only be family sitting down to dinner beforehand. I am sure Mama can be persuaded to invite you and Aunt Leaconham…’

  ‘That will not be necessary,’ Kitty replied. ‘Garston is taking me to Somerset House that afternoon and I doubt we would be back in time.’

  ‘Garston?’

  Kitty giggled.

  ‘I am afraid I rather bludgeoned him into it. It is a lecture, or more properly a debate, on slavery and I knew that Godmama would not allow me to go unattended, so I persuaded Garston to accompany me.’

  ‘But you will not miss our party?’ cried Ann, alarmed.

  ‘No, no,’ said Kitty soothingly. ‘Godmama and I will be there, I promise.’

  She did not disclose to her friend that Lady Leaconham had almost collapsed in tears of despair and frustration when Kitty had told her of her determination to attend the debate.

  They had been alone in the morning room when Kitty had mentioned the matter.

  ‘I may as well wash my hands of you now, you unnatural girl,’ Lady Leaconham had replied, falling back in her chair with her vinaigrette clutched in her hand. ‘What is Garston thinking of to agree to such a thing?’

  ‘He wishes to make up to me for his behaviour at the Rising Sun,’ Kitty explained patiently.

  ‘He would do better to make up to me by refusing to take you,’ retorted her godmother, taking another sniff of her smelling salts. ‘Oh, dear, what am I to do? Do you not realise the damage to your reputation if word of this gets out?’

  ‘My dear ma’am, surely there can be no harm in my attending a lecture,’ responded Kitty, amused. ‘It is at Somerset House, and perfectly respectable.’

  ‘On slavery!’ declared Lady Leaconham. ‘You have no business to be involving yourself in such matters.’

  ‘My father would not have agreed with you, ma’am,’ returned Kitty, a slight edge to her voice. ‘He considered it every man’s duty to reduce the suffering of others.’ She dropped to her knees beside her godmother’s chair. ‘Dear Godmama, you have such a good, kind nature and you were happy that we should avoid buying sugar from the plantations, were you not? You would not have done that if you did not support the abolition.’

  Lady Leaconham eyed her doubtfully.

  ‘Far be it from me to see any poor creature suffer,’ she said, ‘but with the situation in France, the poor rising up against their masters—it makes people nervous, Kitty. Support for the abolition is fading. It is not so fashionable now.’

  ‘I do not support it because it is fashionable,’ retorted Kitty through gritted teeth.

  ‘No, of course not, my love,’ said Lady Leaconham hastily. She closed her eyes, took another sniff from the enamelled phial in her hand then sat up, sighing. ‘Well I suppose you will go, whatever I say.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am, unless you expressly forbid me to do so.’

  Lady Leaconham softened immediately.

  ‘Bless you, child, I will not do that. But Garston must bring you straight back, and we will dine here quietly before going to the party. And for heaven’s sake, my love, when we are at Harworth House, do not voice your opinions, or you will be quite cut out!’

  Kitty had been too relieved to have her godmother’s approval to argue further and she had set out with Lord Leaconham for Somerset House, promising to be back in good time for dinner. The lecture was a lively one, and she returned to Portman Square, her head ringing with arguments and ideas which she was eager to share with her godmother. Garston was less enthusiastic.

  ‘Can’t say I took a lot in,’ he said frankly as they sat down to their dinner. ‘Difficult to get worked up about something that is happening so many miles away. Besides,’ he added, smiling at the ladies, ‘it ain’t as if I employ any slaves. No need, since I have no plantations, and I pay my servants to do everything that is required.’

  ‘But you take snuff,’ objected Kitty. ‘Slaves are used to grow the tobacco. And think of all the cakes and sweetmeats you like so much. They are full of sugar, much of it grown by slaves.’

  Lady Leaconham put up her hand.

  ‘Now, Katherine, my love, you promised me if I allowed you to go to Somerset House that would be an end to it. Let us have no more discussion, if you please. And pray, if you have any feeling for me at all, you will not refer to it again this evening. My sister would not appreciate you bringing such contentious issues to her party.’ Kitty bit her lip and nodded, knowing she had stretched her godmother’s good nature to the limit. ‘Garston, your aunt assures me you are very welcome, if you wish to attend this evening.’

  He gave his mother a pained look.

  ‘Devil a bit, Mama, I am engaged to meet up with friends this evening—I am sure I told you of it.’

  ‘You did, of course, but I wondered, since you have spent the afternoon with Kitty, that you might wish to escort her to Harworth House…’

  Kitty hid a smile when she saw the look of horror on Lord Leaconham’s chubby countenance. She was not at all offended: she had made shameless use of Garston to accompany her to the lecture that afternoon, but she was happy to admit that they had very little in common. Ann had confided to her cousin about their attendance at Mr Clarkson’s meeting and Kitty knew Garston had been disapproving, regarding her ideas as dangerously liberal. Their exchange of views as they returned from Somerset House that afternoon had become quite heated.

  ‘Don’t know why you are botherin’ your head with all this abolition business,’ he had told her as he followed her into the coach. ‘We have laws and preachers who deal with the rights and wrongs of the case.’

  ‘Then they are woefully neglecting their duty!’ she had retorted, frustrated by his refusal to discuss the matter. ‘As a peer of the realm you could influence the government.’

  ‘They know
what they are about,’ replied Garston, bored with the subject. ‘I let Pitt and his cronies go about their business and I go about mine.’

  ‘And just what is your business, Garston?’ she asked him. ‘Just what is it that you do every day?’

  He regarded for a moment, uncomprehending.

  ‘Do? I don’t understand you.’

  ‘You are a rich man, Garston—’

  ‘Not that rich!’ he put in quickly.

  ‘Then let us say you have a comfortable fortune,’ she amended. ‘But what do you do for that fortune? How long each year do you spend on your estates, making sure everything is in order, looking after your land and your tenants?’

  ‘But I have no need to do that, m’dear. I have an excellent steward who looks after everything. He would not thank me for interfering, I assure you.’

  ‘So your days are spent in pleasure and idleness—’

  ‘Pleasure, yes,’ he retorted, sitting upright, ‘but not idleness! I’ll have you know there are some days when I barely have time to think! You can have no idea how long it takes me to get ready each morning—deciding what coat to wear, which invitations to accept.’

  ‘Whether to attend a cockfight or a mill!’ she threw at him.

  ‘Well, yes, there is that,’ he said defensively. ‘When one has so many friends, it’s impossible to spend time with ’em all.’

  ‘I suppose today is the first time you have been called upon to give serious thought to anything for a long while.’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ he replied, eyeing her indignantly. ‘And jolly poor sport I thought it, too. Why should I bother my head with matters I know naught of?’

  ‘That was the point of attending, to learn more.’

  ‘Well, that seems a pretty foolish notion. I have given up my whole day to you for this—’

  ‘If it did not take you ’til noon to dress it would not have been your whole day!’ she flashed.

  Garston ignored that.

  ‘I can’t see that this outing has been of any use at all. Why should we make ourselves uncomfortable over it? It ain’t our business. Let those who enjoy politics argue about these things!’

  Kitty had realised that it was futile trying to persuade Garston. Her godmother had been a little more sympathetic but she was aware that her views filled Lady Leaconham with unease, especially when events in France were so disturbing. If the mob could rise in Paris and bring down the old order, who was to say the same thing might not happen in England?

  Kitty understood Lady Leaconham’s concerns and when, after dinner, she went off to change into her gown of white organdie with apricot sprigs and to drape her shawl of fine, apricot muslin about her arms, she determined that for the rest of the evening she would be the perfect goddaughter.

  Chapter Seven

  Ann was waiting for Kitty when they arrived at Harworth House and she was profuse in her thanks to Kitty for her birthday gift.

  ‘Handkerchiefs!’ she cried, tearing off the wrapping paper. ‘Oh, how pretty, and you embroidered them yourself, did you not? How clever you are, Kitty! I do not have the patience for sewing, I rush my stitches too much, but these are exquisite, and just what I need. Thank you, my dear. Now, you must come and see the ballroom. Mama has lined it with ells and ells of blue silk draped across the ceiling to look like the summer sky. There.’ Ann stopped in the doorway. ‘What do you think of that?’

  Kitty looked around her, amazed at the transformation of the elegant, rather austere ballroom with its pale walls and gilded plasterwork into a heavenly chamber. Candlelight from the chandeliers was reflected in the huge gilded mirrors that hung around the room and it glittered on the silver ribbons holding up the celestial blue silk. She glanced back at Ann, laughing.

  ‘It will be like dancing in the sky. And your dress is an exact match for the silk! How clever of you. The colouring is perfect with your fair hair.’

  ‘Thank you. Your own gown is very pretty, too.’

  ‘It is one of the gowns I brought with me from Yorkshire,’ explained Kitty. ‘I thought it the height of fashion until I arrived in Town and saw how high the waistlines had crept up, and how low the necklines had dropped!’

  ‘It is still very fashionable,’ Ann assured her. She put one hand to her bodice. ‘You do not think my gown too low cut? I know Mama would much prefer me to be wearing a high neckline such as yours—although at one and twenty perhaps I should be wearing a cap and sitting with the dowagers.’

  They giggled at the thought.

  ‘No, your gown looks perfect on you,’ said Kitty. ‘I wish you enough partners to keep you dancing all night.’

  ‘Thank you, but we will not only be dancing,’ said Ann, leading her into the room. ‘There will be music and singing, too—I have asked Martin Hamilton to join me in a duet and I shall be playing a new piece I have learned for the harp. Do you play or sing?’

  ‘A little, but not well enough to perform here without practice. Pray do not suggest to anyone that I should do so!’

  ‘No, of course not, if that is your wish.’ Ann grabbed her hand again and dragged her across the room towards the tall windows. ‘Let me show you the garden while the servants bring in chairs for the recital. Mama has had lamps strung between the trees and along the paths, and as darkness falls they will all be lighted so that the guests may step out of the room on to the terrace and even walk down into the cool garden. Aren’t you glad the evening is so warm? It means that the windows can remain open: I do not know what we would have done if it had rained today.’ Ann led the way on to the terrace and down the steps to the garden. ‘I used to play here in the garden when I was a child. Look, my swing is still there, hanging from that tall beech tree. And come and look at the pretty little summer house. It is built in the style of a Roman temple.’ She led Kitty through the trees. ‘I wanted Mama to hang lamps in here, too,’ said Ann, dancing between the pillars before sitting down on the wooden bench that ran along the back wall. ‘Mama refused, saying she did not wish her guests to wander so far from the main path.’

  ‘They should not need to,’ observed Kitty, sitting down beside her friend. ‘The flower gardens are delightful, and there are more than enough paths to accommodate everyone.’

  Ann jumped up. ‘I suppose we must go back. I have no doubt most of the guests will have arrived by now and Bertram will want to secure a dance with you.’

  ‘Oh, I expect he is far too busy to think of that.’

  Ann stopped.

  ‘No, Kitty, he is very taken with you!’ She caught Kitty’s hand. ‘Come along, let’s find him.’

  They hurried back to the house and were running up the steps to the terrace when a figure stepped out from one of the long windows and blocked their way.

  ‘Miss Harworth.’ Daniel bowed. ‘I believe your brother is looking for you.’ His dark, unsmiling gaze moved to Kitty. ‘Miss Wythenshawe.’

  Kitty inclined her head. She put one hand on the stone balustrade to steady herself. She could not deny the sudden bolt of pleasure at the sight of his tall, elegant figure but she was determined not to reveal how much his presence unsettled her. His athletic form was well suited to the tight-fitting black evening coat and satin knee-breeches and his hair, brushed until it glowed, glinted blue-black in the evening sunlight. She tried desperately to think of something witty to say, but her brain refused to work.

  ‘Mr Blackwood!’ Ann exclaimed. ‘I was not expecting you to be here tonight. Bertram said you had other plans for this evening.’

  ‘I changed them.’ He looked at Kitty. ‘I set off for Yorkshire tomorrow and Lady Harworth persuaded me to join you for one last evening.’

  ‘I am very glad she did so,’ replied Ann, voicing Kitty’s thoughts, although with perhaps a little less intensity than Kitty was feeling. ‘We are going to have such a jolly time, I know you will enjoy it.’

  Kitty followed Ann back into the house, her spirits unaccountably lifted by the knowledge that Daniel was present. She found hersel
f looking forward to the evening.

  When Ann left to prepare for her harp recital, Kitty went off to find her godmother. As she stood wondering in which direction to go first, a passing waiter mistook her hesitation and held out his tray towards her. It was her custom at such parties to drink lemonade or orgeat but there was only wine in the glasses in front of her. Rather than refuse and wave him away, she picked up a glass and moved on. She was searching the crowd for the tall purple ostrich feathers adorning Lady Leaconham’s turban but they were nowhere to be seen and she wandered through the reception rooms, which were growing more crowded by the minute. As Kitty eased herself past a particularly tall, rotund gentleman she found herself face to face with Daniel. He bowed and she was emboldened to stop.

  ‘So you are going home, Mr Blackwood. Is your work here concluded?’

  ‘It is.’

  His response was curt but she pressed on, knowing it might be her last chance to talk to him.

  ‘And are Lord Harworth’s plans for a new spinning mill complete?’

  ‘The mill? No, but I can do no more until I have seen the site.’

  ‘You did not come to London solely to advise Lord Harworth, I think.’ His brows drew together and she added quickly, ‘You were staying at Greenwich when you first came to Town.’

  ‘You remember that, do you?’ His distant, shuttered expression softened into one of surprised amusement. ‘My family has connections with several shipping families, and not only in Liverpool. With the unrest in France it is important we keep our shipping routes open.’

  ‘But you use local wool in your mills, do you not, Mr Blackwood?’

  ‘We spin worsted,’ he corrected her. ‘It is from the longer fibres of the wool: a fine, strong yarn suitable for greatcoats and pelisses but not the soft, fine cloth you would want to wear next to your skin.’

  Something happened to Kitty’s breathing. She had been listening to Daniel with interest but now, watching him, she had a sudden conviction that he was imagining her naked, draped only in a soft woollen shift. Perhaps it was the way his voice slowed and deepened as he finished his sentence, or the dangerously dark look in his eyes as they moved over her body. She was afraid to look down lest she discover that her fine, opaque muslin gown had disappeared. The air crackled around them, heavy and charged with an excitement. Daniel had brought his eyes back to her face and was staring at her with such intensity she thought she must burn up. It seemed a lifetime before Daniel looked away. He seemed to gather himself, giving a very slight shake of the head before he cleared his throat, saying brusquely,