Miss Ridgeway's Privateer (Regency Belles & Beaux Book 3)

by Michele McGrath

  “Lucy, what in the world are you about?” Mrs. Beckwith bustled up behind her, her voice sharp, calling her to order.

  Lucy whirled around, suddenly conscious of how close she was standing to her rescuer.

  “I tripped and this gentleman kindly stopped me from falling over.”

  The young man removed his hat and bowed to the irate elderly lady.

  “Patrick O’Rourke, at your service, ma’am.” The soft voice and his ready smile provoked no answering gleam from Mrs. Beckwith and Lucy wondered why. Her guardian liked male company, especially if the person was handsome.

  “Thank you, sir, I’m grateful for your assistance to my cousin, but, now that I am here, we need not detain you any further.” Her tone was frosty but her coldness did not seem to affect him.

  “May I be permitted to call upon you tomorrow to ensure myself that the young lady has suffered no injury?”

  “I think not. Again our thanks and a good day to you, sir. Lucy, come.”

  Mrs. Beckwith caught Lucy’s arm and hurried her along the road. Lucy twisted to look back over her shoulder and saw that he was standing still, watching them. She received a sharp tug from her cousin and reluctantly turned away.

  “Why were you so rude to him, Becky? Indeed he helped me and did no harm.”

  “He’s Irish! Couldn’t you tell from the way he spoke? Such an encroaching nation. Give them an inch and they’ll take everything you’ve got. I’ve told you before that consorting with all and sundry does not add to a lady’s consequence. Come. I have something to say to you when we are home.” Mrs. Beckwith waved to a hackney coach that was driving along the street and the two ladies climbed aboard.

  Patrick O’Rourke smiled to himself as he walked away. ‘Lucy’ was a pretty name for a pretty girl, and a lively one if he was any judge of the matter. No simpering miss and unlikely to be boring, even though she seemed very young. Dark haired lasses always appealed to him. She had a heart-shaped face and big blue eyes, drenched with tears. How odd that he had felt something the first time he touched her. For a second he wanted to shield her from all the winds that blew. His first love, many years ago, had affected him like that before politics had got in the way, as it did far too often in Ireland. Margaret was probably married and the mother of a family by now. Would he even recognise her if he saw her again? Not that such a meeting was likely. He had a healthy regard for his own skin and no desire to return to Dublin.

  For a moment or two he wondered if he should call on the young girl who had bumped into him. She seemed willing enough to meet him again and it would tease the old dragon who had pulled her away. The idea appealed to his sense of humour though he knew it was far too dangerous. Both of them were well dressed and they might possess influential friends. Now was no time for dalliance or to draw attention to himself. He must finish his work and go. He had already obtained medical supplies and was just about to visit the agent in London who collected information on ship movements and cargoes. Afterwards prudence dictated that he leave the country as soon as possible and take the various messages to their destination. He sighed and walked on, without enquiring either the young lady’s name or her direction.

  “How could you put me to so much shame?” Mrs. Beckwith asked as soon as they sat down in the parlour of the unpretentious house she had occupied since her husband’s early death. “Speaking to Lady Westmore like that! She’s a vindictive woman who enjoys spiteful gossip. I would have thought you’d have more sense than to provoke her. She’s bound to make me suffer for your rudeness. I shudder to think what she will say about you to her acquaintance. You’ve seriously jeopardised your future and affected Caroline’s. Even if we receive a generous offer from your grandparents, you could never be presented in London this year. Lady Westmore would certainly create a scandal if we did so and tittle-tattle needs time to die down. And another thing — let me tell you that young ladies do not stand in the arms of a man in the middle of a public street where anyone can see her, like a hoyden! If you have no care for your own reputation, at least have some for mine and your cousin’s.”

  “But I didn’t intend to, I assure you Becky.”

  “Don’t lie to me; I saw the whole thing. A true lady would have stepped back immediately, made her thanks and departed, not stayed cuddling a complete stranger.”

  Lucy realised that both complaints had some justification. It had seemed natural to stand there in his arms after her first startled reaction. She had completely forgotten all about propriety until Becky spoke to her.

  “Forgive me, Becky, I was so angry…”

  “Miss Simpson is right. You will never make your way in this world unless you learn to hold your tongue before it can get you into further trouble. Remember that you are no longer the rich Miss Ridgeway, about to make your debut into society. For which fact, let me tell you, I am truly thankful. Another such outburst as you have treated us to today would ruin you completely and made people wonder whether I was a proper person to have charge of you.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Lucy murmured. “I’m ruined already,”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not, but in any case, how you behave at this time reflects on me and on Caroline. I won’t have you bringing us into disrepute by your wanton behaviour.”

  “Caroline! Caroline! It’s always Caroline. What about me? How do you suppose I feel?” Lucy could not control herself any longer, despite her good intentions.

  “Lucy, I have put up with your megrims and bad temper for years for the sake of your father…”

  “And the money he was paying you!”

  Mrs. Beckwith rose to her feet.

  “Enough! You ungrateful little wretch! Go to your room at once and consider carefully how you have behaved today and the conduct which will be required of you in future. You’re to stay there until I give you permission to leave.”

  Lucy got up and went to her bedroom, more because it was what she wanted to do than in obedience to her cousin’s order. It must be admitted that she thought very little about her behaviour, or her uncertain prospects. A pair of dark eyes and a cheeky grin were much more interesting than such gloomy reflections. She kept wondering whether she had truly felt anything when the young man touched her or whether it was her imagination playing tricks. Would she ever see Patrick O’Rourke again?

  She continued to be in disgrace for some time. Mrs. Beckwith hardly spoke to her, when she was allowed to leave her bedroom at last, underlining her displeasure. By then, Lucy was thoroughly bored and prepared to promise almost anything in order to escape from confinement. She was unexpectedly grateful to Caroline, who begged for her release because she wanted to claim her cousin’s company on her own expeditions. Since Mrs. Beckwith did not object, Lucy walked with Caroline in the park or visited Hookham’s bookshop or looked at the latest fashions in the shops on Bond Street or Conduit Street. The girls had been in the habit of doing these things as soon as they were judged old enough to go out with just a maidservant trailing behind them.

  Even this pastime had changed though. For the first time in her life, Lucy did not join in her cousin’s raptures over such elegant trifles as a fan or a lilac bonnet trimmed with lace. She knew that she would not be able to buy such expensive articles now. Window shopping, once so fascinating, had turned into a bitter-sweet experience. She tried to keep her resentment under control and answer in the way she used to do. She kept reminding herself that it was not Caroline’s fault that Papa had died and left her destitute. Caroline had often been thoughtless but she was not malicious. Lucy had never needed to be grateful to anyone before and it rankled, although she realised she was being unjust. She was thankful to find her cousin unchanged, for none of her so-called friends had even visited her to ask how she did. It was as if she had vanished and been rapidly forgotten.

  Lucy secretly hoped that, on one of their expeditions, she might meet Patrick again but every day brought disappointment. Discreet questioning of the servants revealed that he had not called at
the house or even been seen nearby. No doubt he had taken her cousin at her word and avoided the area. He would have found it easy to discover who she was and where she lived. Lady Westmore’s butler or one of the footmen would not be above accepting a bribe. He must not have been interested enough to make the attempt. Eventually she consigned his memory to the back of her mind with the rest of her might-have-beens.

  Time dragged, not helped by the weather which stayed cold and grey, unusual for early September. Often the girls’ walks were cut short and some days it was impossible to go out at all. Lucy was left alone when her cousins were at Miss Simpson’s, but Mrs. Beckwith set tasks to keep her employed. Such activities as needlework, painting and trimming her bonnets, very quickly palled. She was bored and yet she did not want her life to change any more than it already had. She found that she actually missed school. Not the lessons although she had always been proud of the sharp wits that had enabled her to learn anything she wanted to learn without working hard. It was the company of the other pupils and even some of the younger teachers that she regretted. I wish I had been more content when I was there and taken the trouble to make more friends, Lucy thought. Although I am unlikely to see any of them ever again.

  It seemed to Lucy as if her whole life had stopped while she was waiting to hear from Mr. Soames. Mrs. Beckwith mentioned him at least twice a day and Caroline and Eleanor kept asking her whether she had heard anything yet. No news came and Lucy began to believe that the solicitor either had not written his letter or that her grandparents had not replied.

  So she was a little surprised when she was called into the parlour just after the post had been delivered. She found her guardian dressed for leaving the house and working her fingers into a pair of leather gloves.

  “Mr. Soames has sent me a note asking us to call on him at our earliest convenience,” Mrs. Beckwith told her.

  “Has he said why?” Lucy asked.

  “No. Hurry and fetch your bonnet and pelisse. We will go to him directly.”

  Sitting in the hackney, Lucy found her hands shaking and she twisted her fingers together to keep them still. She stared blindly through the coach windows. There must be some news, otherwise Mr. Soames would not send for them. Was it good or bad? Either way Lucy knew it would affect the foreseeable future at least. The more she thought about it, the more she was unsure whether she wanted her grandparents to acknowledge her or not.

  Please let them pay for my debut. No more. Let them allow me to stay with Becky and let my life continue in the way it has always been. If you do, Lord, I promise to mend my ways. I’ll keep my temper and be nice to other people even if I don’t like them very much. I’ll try to be a better person. I really will, she prayed.

  The journey seemed endless before the coach deposited Lucy and Mrs. Beckwith on the doorstep of Mr. Soames’ office. His clerk received them and showed them to seats in a small room, badly in need of a thorough dusting. The air smelt of paper, ink and a damp mustiness, Lucy thought. Apparently, Mr. Soames was engaged with another client and would be with them directly. Lucy idly ran her finger down the spine of one of the immense volumes on the nearest shelf. She was promptly called to order when a dirty patch appeared on her gloves. A nervous retort sprang to her lips but she bit it back. She did not want to be sent to wait outside while her cousin and the solicitor decided her fate. She had to know!

  The door opened a short time later although to Lucy it seemed as if several hours had passed since they arrived. Mr. Soames’ clerk returned and showed them into his office. The little old man rose as they entered and smiled at Lucy.

  “Good news for you, my dear. Your grandmother has written to me and said that your family will acknowledge you.”

  “Oh!” Lucy dropped into the chair the clerk held for her. All the strength seemed to have gone from her legs.

  “It has taken a long time for them to answer,” Mrs. Beckwith remarked. “What exactly did they say?”

  Mr. Soames handed her a letter, the lines of writing much crossed on the page. “Read it for yourself, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Beckwith perused it with difficulty, tracing the words with her forefinger. “I can’t understand it at all,” she finally said, handing it back to him. “You must tell us what it says.”

  “Very well. First of all, the letter is written by Lady Mary Ridgeway. General Sir Walter Ridgeway has recently died and the estate has passed to his eldest son, Sir Edgar Ridgeway. Lady Mary writes with her son’s consent. She acknowledges the death of Major Ridgeway and confirms that she was aware of Miss Ridgeway’s birth. Major Ridgeway wrote to tell his parents of this event but the General would not allow her ladyship to answer his letter at that time. To summarise, Lady Mary offers Lucy a home with her in County Cork. She takes note of Lucy’s age and the interrupted plans for her debut. She regrets that she is unable to come to London at this time so she intends to present Lucy at the Viceroy’s drawing room instead during the Irish Social Season.”

  He stopped as Mrs. Beckwith clapped her hands. “How wonderful! All we could have hoped for. Why Lucy, you will be presented after all!” She looked at Lucy’s face. “Aren’t you happy about it?”

  “It’s good that my grandmother wants to offer me a home,” Lucy said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Although I hoped to stay in London.”

  “It is even better in the circumstances,” Mrs. Beckwith glared at her. “There are many eligible families in Ireland. If Lady Mary presents you, then there should be no difficulties such as you would find here if you continued under Lady Westmore’s patronage. The daughter of a peer has far more status than the wife of a mere baron.”

  Mr. Soames gave a discreet cough and both ladies turned to him.

  “Lady Mary directs that Miss Ridgeway should be sent to Cove in County Cork as soon as possible. Then she can meet her relatives and be prepared for the start of the Social Season which runs from January to St. Patrick’s Day in March. Sir Edgar Ridgeway has enclosed with his mother’s letter a banker’s draft to cover her expenses. I’m sure that you will agree that is most generous of him.”

  Lucy did not really listen to much more of the conversation, which ran on financial issues, although she realised that her guardian was pleased. Her thoughts whirled. She did not know whether to laugh or cry. On the one hand, her grandmother had acknowledged her and would fulfil her dream of being presented at a court, even if it was not where she had expected it to be. On the other hand, she would have to travel to an unknown country, leaving everyone else behind. Dublin might be the second city in the British Isles but Lucy had never met anyone who had been there, except perhaps the elusive Mr. O’Rourke. Maybe it will be all right, she said to herself. I can make my family like me if I am careful. But oh! I’m so scared. Papa would be ashamed of me and would call me ‘faint heart’ and I deserve it. I must pretend to be as happy as Becky. After all, being presented is better than making hats or looking after a fat pug for some old woman.

  Mrs. Beckwith was obviously both relieved and delighted. She chattered all the way home. Lucy heard barely one word in ten although she managed to make appropriate noises and answer questions at the right time, so she escaped reproof. She had never seen her guardian so happy and did not understand the depths of relief Mrs. Beckwith had experienced when the contents of the letter had been disclosed to her.

  “Now I can order proper clothes for you at last,” Mrs. Beckwith exclaimed. “You will have to be content with one or two day dresses and an evening dress though. Everything must be made in a hurry so they are ready before you leave.”

  “Oh, Becky, do I really have to go?” Lucy blurted out without thinking.

  Mrs. Beckwith stared at her in surprise, her face darkening. “Of course you must. Your grandmother’s offer is better than we could ever have expected and let me tell you, your uncle’s bank draft is most generous. I remember that your father once told me that he was his mother’s favourite child and she was prostrate with grief whenever he quarrelled with his
Papa. No doubt that is the reason she has decided to offer you a home. You will be with your relatives and be presented! It is all we could ask for. You must certainly go.”

  “But I don’t know anyone there and you said that Irish people are encroaching…”

  “Some of them are,” Mrs. Beckwith said briskly, “but you are unlikely to meet any of that sort of person in Lady Mary’s house. You will be mixing in quite different circles, just as you do here. Now hurry along. I must organise a lot of things in a very short time.”

  Chapter Four

  The next three weeks passed in a whirlwind of activity. Thanks to the good offices of Mr. Soames, Lucy’s passage was booked on the brig “White Hart” sailing out of London River. The ship called at Portsmouth, Plymouth, Cove and Dublin before returning to England.

  “It’s a well found vessel that has made this journey often. It’s not as comfortable as some, nor as expensive, but it’s only for a few days. The captain’s wife accompanies her husband and has undertaken to chaperone Lucy on the voyage. There will be no need for you to hire a maid to accompany her,” Mr. Soames told Mrs. Beckwith. “Lady Mary will arrange for someone to meet Lucy on the quay at Cove. Weather permitting, the ship sails with the tide on the second day of this month, so you must bring Lucy there early in the forenoon. The brig can’t wait for her if you are delayed, because they carry other passengers as well as cargo.”

  “We won’t be late,” Mrs. Beckwith promised.

  Using the remainder of Mr. Ridgeway’s money, Mrs. Beckwith set out to refurbish Lucy’s wardrobe. “I won’t have your grandmother saying that I sent you to her in rags,” Mrs. Beckwith said as she harried anyone who could sew to make the necessary alterations. In addition to her mourning clothes, Lucy kept the amber walking dress which had already been delivered to the house. Some of Caroline’s older dresses were fitted to her as well. Those in white, cream or pale mauve were considered suitable for later in the year, worn with a black sash and black gloves. When Caroline protested the loss of a favourite frock, Mrs. Beckwith told her to hold her tongue as her cousin’s needs were more pressing at the moment. A quantity of shawls, bonnets, pelisses and gloves were found or bought for Lucy, plus shifts, nightgowns, stockings and other essentials. All these were packed into a large trunk, clearly marked with her name and destination.