A Mother's Promise

by Dilly Court

  ‘It would not do for me,’ Cecilia said with a prim smile. ‘I’ve never been anywhere without a chaperone.’

  ‘Well, personally speaking, I would love to go out and about on my own,’ Isabella said with an impish smile that dimpled her cheeks. ‘I think you are most fortunate, Hetty.’

  ‘Thank you, Isabella,’ Mrs Wyndham said in a cutting tone. ‘I don’t think anyone asked your opinion.’

  Isabella tossed her blonde ringlets and flounced over to the window seat where she collapsed in a flurry of starched petticoats and frilled tarlatan.

  Charles shot his sister a grateful smile. ‘I agree with Bella, mother. I think young women ought to be treated more like adults than irresponsible children. I admire Hetty for what she has achieved and for her courage in travelling across the Atlantic on her own.’

  ‘Yes, if you say so, Charles.’ Mrs Wyndham turned to Hetty and her expression was one of polite indifference. ‘And do you have business here in Philadelphia, Miss Huggins? Is it true that you are in trade?’

  Cecilia smothered a snigger and Charles placed his arm around Hetty’s shoulders in a protective gesture that went straight to her heart. ‘Hetty has built up a chain of coffee shops in London. It is an extraordinary achievement; don’t you think so, Mother?’

  ‘Extraordinary,’ Mrs Wyndham agreed, but it seemed to Hetty that this was not meant to be a compliment.

  ‘And how long do you propose to stay in Philadelphia?’ Cecilia demanded. ‘Or do you intend to open up more coffee shops here?’

  ‘No, I do not,’ Hetty said, struggling to control her rising temper. What right had these snooty women to cross-examine her and to look down on her? ‘I came to Philadelphia because I had unfinished business with Charles.’

  ‘Indeed?’ Cecilia said scornfully. ‘I can’t imagine what that could be, unless you hoped to find yourself a rich husband. I think Eugenie might have something to say about that, don’t you, Charles?’

  ‘Hush, Cecilia.’ Mrs Wyndham frowned. ‘That’s enough.’

  Isabella had been peering out of the window and she turned to them with an irrepressible chuckle. ‘Well, now is your chance to find out exactly what Eugenie will say. Your fiancée is just getting out of her carriage as we speak, Charles.’

  The shock of her words was so great that for a moment Hetty was stunned into silence. She felt Charles stiffen and his fingers tightened as they grasped her shoulder. She pulled away from him, staring into his face, waiting for his denial or for him to laugh and tell her that it was his sister’s idea of a joke. He had paled alarmingly and he avoided her gaze. As if struck by lightning, Hetty knew that Isabella’s casually spoken words had been nothing but the truth. ‘Charles?’ His name was wrenched from her lips in a cry of anguish.

  He held out his hand and then let it fall to his side. ‘Honey, I was going to tell you . . .’

  ‘Charles, it seems that you have been leading this poor creature on.’ Mrs Wyndham rose from her seat, shaking out her silken skirts. ‘That is not the sort of behaviour I would expect from a Wyndham.’

  ‘Mother, you don’t understand. It wasn’t like that,’ Charles protested. He turned to Hetty with an imploring look. ‘Hetty, honey, you’ve got to believe me. I meant everything I said to you in London.’

  ‘That would be the first time you ever did,’ Cecilia said with a contemptuous snort. ‘You always were a liar, Charles. Even as a child you would do or say anything to get your own way.’

  Mrs Wyndham raised her hand in an imperious gesture. ‘Be silent, Cecilia. It would appear that your brother behaved less than chivalrously when he was away from home, but that is by the by.’ She turned to Hetty with a superior smile. ‘My dear young woman, I am sorry if my son’s behaviour has given you false hopes, but the truth is that there was an understanding between Charles and Eugenie long before he went to London.’

  Hetty was stung into retaliation by Mrs Wyndham’s patronising manner. ‘It cannot have been a serious attachment if he was prepared to spend so long away from her, and people change. I believe that Charles was sincere in his feelings for me. Nothing will convince me otherwise.’

  ‘Eugenie’s maid has just rung the doorbell,’ Isabella said conversationally. ‘This should be interesting.’

  ‘Be quiet, Bella,’ Mrs Wyndham snapped. ‘If you cannot say anything sensible you should hold your tongue.’

  ‘You had better make up your mind, dear brother,’ Cecilia said, slanting a triumphant glance at Hetty. ‘Will it be the coffee-shop queen from London, or your beautiful cousin and heiress to a considerable fortune, who will be coming through that door any second now?’

  Hetty slipped the ring off her finger and threw it at Charles. ‘I won’t stay here and be humiliated. I hate you, Charles. You are a . . . a . . .’

  ‘Casanova,’ Isabella suggested helpfully. ‘A Lothario perhaps? Charles, I didn’t know you had it in you.’

  ‘Isabella!’ Mrs Wyndham’s voice rose to a pitch that made the crystals hanging from the chandeliers tinkle.

  ‘I’m going,’ Hetty cried angrily, but before she could get to the door it was flung open, and a young woman rushed into the room.

  ‘Aunt Elvira, I had to come right over and tell you the silliest piece of gossip that I’ve ever heard.’ She came to a halt as she almost collided with Hetty and the laughter died from her eyes. ‘Oh, I’m sorry; I didn’t know you were entertaining.’

  ‘Get yourself out of this one, Charles,’ Cecilia sneered.

  Isabella leapt up from the window seat and hurried over to take Hetty by the hand. ‘Hetty, may I introduce our second cousin Eugenie Inman. Eugenie, this is one of Charles’ friends, Miss Hetty Huggins, who has come all the way from England to visit.’

  ‘Miss Huggins was just leaving,’ Mrs Wyndham said with a meaningful glance in Hetty’s direction. ‘Charles, will you be kind enough to show her out.’

  Flushed and looking for all the world as if he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him, Charles laid his hand on Hetty’s arm.

  ‘Thank you, I can see myself out.’ She broke away from him as hurt, anger and despair roiled in her stomach. She didn’t know whether she wanted to scratch Eugenie’s beautiful brown eyes out or to slap Charles’ handsome face. Admittedly he was looking ashamed and close to tears, but that did not excuse his execrable behaviour. She met Eugenie’s innocent, confused gaze and Hetty knew that she held this young woman’s heart in her own hands – she could break it or she could walk away and leave that privilege to Charles. She saw him now for what he undoubtedly was, a selfish, spoilt mother’s boy and a would-be philanderer. There was so much she could say, so many bitter words on the tip of her tongue. She could feel the tension in the room. Cecilia had a smug smile on her face; Isabella was patently anxious and Charles looked as though he was about to be sick. Hetty shrugged her shoulders and walked out of the room. As she left the house in Washington Square, she knew that she was walking out of Charles Wyndham the third’s life forever.

  The time between leaving the Wyndhams’ mansion and her arrival back in her hotel room was always to be a blank to Hetty. She was in a daze; totally numb. For a long time she lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. When she closed her eyes she saw the Wyndhams’ faces and she could hear Cecilia’s scornful words, coupled with those of her mother. Together they had done their best to make her feel like a common adventuress, and Charles had done little to defend her. Hetty’s emotions were ragged as she attempted to come to terms with the way in which he had toyed with her affections. If only he had been honest with her. If he had confessed, even by letter, she would not have lived on false hopes for so many long months; she would not have crossed the Atlantic to find him, nor would she have exposed herself to the humiliating scene in Washington Square. Even in her more lucid moments, she could not think why he had invited her to his home when he must have known that the truth would out. Or perhaps that was the reason in itself. He must have realised that his mother and sisters woul
d expose his duplicity. He was obviously too much of a coward to admit that he was engaged to someone else, and that they had an understanding even while he was making protestations of love to her and had gone so far as to make an offer of marriage. What a fool he must have thought her. What a simple, trusting little idiot she had been, taken in by a handsome face and sweet words.

  It was growing dark by the time Hetty roused herself from her stupor. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The sudden movement made her feel dizzy and she had to take a moment before she could stand and go to the washbowl to splash cool water on her hot cheeks. As she dried her hands and face on the towel, she knew that her dream of a life with Charles was irrevocably over. She must return home as quickly as possible. She chided herself silently for wasting so much time lying around when she ought to have gone straight to the shipping office and booked her passage to England. Perhaps it was not too late now? A quick look at the clock told her that it was half past four in the afternoon. If she hurried she could get to the docks before the office closed. Her hands were shaking as she put on her bonnet and cape, but she was desperate to get as far away as possible from Charles and all that he stood for.

  She made her way downstairs to the lobby and handed her key to the desk clerk. She was about to walk away when he called her back. ‘Excuse me, ma’am. Someone left this for you just minutes ago.’ With an ingratiating smile, he handed her a white vellum envelope.

  ‘Thank you.’ Hetty took the envelope, instantly recognising Charles’ copperplate handwriting. Her first instinct was to tear it into shreds and toss it into a wastepaper basket, but curiosity got the better of her. She went straight to the hotel lounge where she could open the letter without fear of the desk clerk peering over her shoulder. It had been delivered by hand, and perhaps that explained the clerk’s changed attitude towards her. Not that Charles would have dared to come himself; he had probably sent one of the servants, but in a modest hotel such as this, Hetty guessed that this would have been enough to arouse the curiosity of the staff. The parlour was empty apart from an elderly couple who were poring over a street map and took little notice of her. Hetty went to sit beneath one of the gas mantles and her pulses raced as she tore open the envelope. Perhaps Charles had written to apologise?

  However, it was not a letter that fell out onto her lap, but a first class ticket for the return trip to Liverpool on the same ship that had brought her to Philadelphia just a couple of days previously. There was no accompanying note, and Hetty held the ticket between her fingers, staring at it incredulously. She was tempted to send it straight back to Charles, but she must be practical. She had very little money left, just enough to settle the hotel bill and to pay for a cab to the docks and her train fare from Liverpool to London. She realised now just what a risk she had taken by purchasing a single ticket on the assumption that Charles would be overjoyed to see her again. She had been convinced that his family would take her to their bosom, and that she would return to England officially engaged, or even married. It had simply not occurred to her that things would turn out this way. She had come to the painful conclusion that allowing her heart to rule her head was a serious mistake.

  On reading the small print, Hetty saw that the ship was due to sail at midnight. The sooner the better in her opinion – false pride had no place here. If this was Charles’ attempt at an apology, she would accept it with good grace. She tucked the ticket into her reticule and rose to her feet. There was no time to lose. She would ask the desk clerk to make up her bill and send the bellboy to her room to collect her case. She could be packed within minutes and ready to leave. She would go home where she belonged and forget all about Charles Wyndham the third.

  The first class stateroom exceeded all Hetty’s expectations. It was both luxurious and comfortable, and, best of all, she would not have to share it with anyone. She could not quite bring herself to be grateful to Charles for this extravagant gesture, but it did go a little way to ease the pain of his callous deception. She settled down to make the best of this unexpected treat, although her limited wardrobe and single status made it difficult for her to mingle with the type of people who could afford to travel first class. However, her own personal steward brought her meals to the stateroom, and was on call twenty-four hours a day to fulfil her slightest whim. The weather for late November was reasonably good, or so the steward told her, and Hetty took advantage of the fact to go out on deck as much as possible. The turbulent blue-green waters of the Atlantic and the vast vistas of ocean and sky acted as a balm to her troubled soul. Walking alone on the deck and breathing in the cold, salty air brought colour to her cheeks and a sense of calm. She was determined to put the past behind her and concentrate on the future. Perhaps Miss Heathcote had been right about all men being deceivers and cheats?

  On the fifth day out, Hetty was on deck taking the air. Resting her arms on the taffrail she watched the ship’s wake as it roiled and foamed, sending up a mist of spray and eventually fanning out as it vanished into the horizon. She was impatient to reach home now. She had missed her family more than she had thought possible, and she wondered how Miss Heathcote was coping with the day-to-day problems that cropped up in running the coffee shops. She thought almost constantly of George, and their bitter parting on the docks. She had taken him so much for granted and ignored his warnings about Charles. What a fool she had been, and how she must have hurt him when she brushed aside his attempts to tell her that he loved her. One of the first things she would do on her return to London would be to seek him out and apologise for the way in which she had treated him. She tried to comfort herself with the thought that he would probably have found a new lady-love by now. One day he would meet the right girl and he would get married and have a family of his own. The thought was oddly disturbing and Hetty shivered. She turned her back on the turbulent waves and walked briskly back to her stateroom.

  That evening Hetty could not face the thought of yet another supper eaten in lonely splendour, and she changed into the gown she had worn on the fateful evening when Charles took her out to dinner. She did her hair in the same style, but this time she plucked fresh white camellias from the basket of flowers that had been waiting for her when she arrived in her cabin. There had been no note with the fragrant blooms, but she suspected that these also were a peace offering from Charles, or just another way in which to salve his guilty conscience. She took one last look in the mirror, and, satisfied that she could do no more to improve her appearance, she left the safe haven of her stateroom.

  A steward met her at the entrance of the first class dining room and he led her to a table close to the orchestra, which was playing a Viennese waltz. The gentlemen present stood as she took her seat and she smiled, inclining her head with a confidence that she did not feel. She was very aware of covert glances from some of the older matrons at the table, although without exception her fellow diners greeted her politely and then resumed their conversations. The temptation to get up and hurry back to her cabin was almost overpowering, but just when Hetty thought she could bear it no longer, the empty seat next to her was claimed by a gentleman who was also apparently on his own.

  He turned to her with a charming smile. ‘As there is no one to introduce us formally, ma’am, may I be bold enough to ignore convention and introduce myself?’

  Hetty was taken aback but also flattered. ‘I don’t see why not, sir.’

  ‘Maynard Kingsley. I am returning from a business trip to Philadelphia and I live in London.’

  ‘Hetty Huggins. I am a Londoner too.’ Hetty found herself returning his smile and her initial shyness evaporated beneath his admiring gaze. He was, she judged, probably in his mid-forties and powerfully built, although by no means corpulent. He was not exactly good-looking as his features were somewhat heavy, and his dark hair and eyes gave him a slightly foreign look, but he was undoubtedly the most attractive man at the table.

  ‘I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Huggins. But w
hy have we not met before? We have been out of Philadelphia for five days and this is the first time you have graced our table. Why have you denied us your company for so long?’

  Hetty glanced over his shoulder and saw that the snooty matrons were straining their ears in order to listen to their conversation. She lowered her voice. ‘I was unwell, Mr Kingsley.’

  ‘Unwell or merely out of sorts, Miss Huggins?’ He leaned towards her. ‘I have seen you on deck, staring out to sea. I was tempted to speak to you, but I did not wish to impose on your obvious wish to be left alone.’

  She was saved from replying by the arrival of waiters bearing the soup course and silver baskets filled with hot bread rolls. She took one and broke it into pieces, keeping her eyes averted although she could feel his gaze upon her.

  ‘May I pass you the butter, Miss Huggins?’

  This made her look up, and her lips quivered in response to the mischievous gleam in Maynard’s dark eyes as he placed the dish on the table in front of her. ‘Thank you, Mr Kingsley.’

  ‘Maynard, please. If we are to become better acquainted then I think we are entitled to a degree of informality.’

  ‘Are we?’ Hetty could not help but be amused by his boldness and the fact that he did not seem at all bothered by the undisguised disapproval of their fellow diners.

  He laid his hand over hers as it rested on the table. ‘Oh, yes, my dear Hetty. I have a feeling that you and I are going to become very much better acquainted before we make land-fall in Liverpool.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  At first Hetty had put Maynard Kingsley down as a middle-aged roué, the sort of man who took advantage of vulnerable young women, but she soon discovered that this was not at all the case. Maynard was a charmer, of that there was no doubt, but he was certainly not a philanderer. After dinner, when they took coffee in the ship’s lounge, he informed her that he had been happily married for twenty years, and had three daughters whom he loved dearly. He said that he would not have wanted them to find themselves in the difficult situation in which Hetty had been placed at table, and this was why he had flouted the unwritten rules of polite society and effected an introduction. Hetty was still slightly wary, since her dealings with toffs had been limited to her relationship with Charles, and look how that had turned out. At the end of a most enjoyable evening, she allowed Maynard to escort her back to her stateroom, and was reassured by the fact that he left her at the door, wishing her goodnight with an avuncular smile.