She waited for the introduction to be played and then her voice soared out in the old favourite. After the opening few bars, she could see her audience sitting up and taking notice. This time the applause was genuine and Lady Ridgeway smiled and said,
“Well done, my dear. You must sing for us again.”
“Well, you have one talent at least,” Mrs. Lovering murmured. Her voice was low but Lucy knew she was meant to overhear.
Genuinely happy for the first time in months, Lucy enjoyed the rest of the evening and even saying goodbye to O’Rourke did not prove to be difficult. He squeezed her fingers as he kissed them and she could not help squeezing his back. She hoped no one overheard his whisper,
“Until we meet in Dublin, Alannah.”
The following day, Lucy asked Nell why Mrs. Lovering had seemed so critical and unfriendly.
“Didn’t anyone tell you?” Nell exclaimed. “Your Papa was supposed to marry her daughter Cecily. It was all arranged, although the engagement hadn’t been announced. Then Uncles Charles wrote that he had married your mother.”
“No wonder she didn’t like me!” Lucy gasped. “I didn’t have the least notion.”
“You are far prettier than Cecily and her daughters. She has three now and all as plain as puddings. Don’t be concerned though, Mrs. Lovering doesn’t like anybody.”
The days leading up to Christmas were filled with bustle and excitement. People came visiting and Lady Ridgeway took Lucy to visit her neighbours in return. Lucy found this difficult because she had to be on her best behaviour. She also had to remember the story she had agreed with O’Rourke, which naturally aroused interest. She did not want to make a mistake and be banned from seeing him in Dublin. The life of a young lady proved to be far more boring than she had imagined and it reminded her of her time in Saint-Malo. There were few topics of conversation but this time they concerned the weather, farming and difficulties with the servants.
The times she enjoyed the most was when she played with her cousins and no longer had to mind her tongue. Despite the difference in their ages, Nell became a friend with whom she could chat and laugh. Peter had been so much in his sister’s company that he acted in similar ways and she liked him too. She had never lived in the same house as a boy before, Mrs. Beckwith having only daughters. Peter was disappointed because Tom was not coming home for Christmas from the Royal School at Enniskillen, having been invited to a friend’s house for the holidays.
“Peter is always much nicer when he doesn’t need to pretend that he is almost grown up, as he does when Tom is at home,” Nell confided. “Tom can be quite horrid at times.”
On the morning of Christmas Eve, the snow began to fall as they left the church. It stopped by noon but remained lying on the ground. After luncheon, Nell and Lucy put on galoshes and went for a walk, revelling in the crisp air and the sight of the laden trees against a pale turquoise sky. To his disgust, Peter was forbidden to go with them, so they were surprised when a snowball suddenly hit Lucy in the middle of her back. She gasped and whirled around to find Peter, his cheeks red with the cold, stooping to pick up another handful of snow. A snowball fight soon ensued with all three cousins laughing uproariously. This continued for some time until they were all coated with snow. They did not notice the short winter day was ending and the shadows growing longer, so they jumped when Lady Ridgeway called out,
“Peter, Nell, Lucy come inside at once!”
She stood on the terrace accompanied by a groom and behind her stood Lady Mary. Lucy thought that Lady Ridgeway looked anxious and cross but Lady Mary seemed as if she had suffered a great shock.
“Mama, don’t scold us please, we’ve been having such fun,” Peter begged.
“I told you not to go out at all, so it will be the price of you if you get one of your putrid sore throats! Come inside this instant.”
Lady Ridgeway hurried her children off to the side door but Lady Mary stood still, staring at Lucy as if she had never seen her before. Lucy had been following her cousins but now she stopped and asked,
“Are you all right, Grandmamma? I’m sorry I let Peter stay with us. I forgot that he gets sick because he was enjoying himself so much.”
Lady Mary made no answer.
“Grandmamma? Are you ill? Shall I send for someone to help you?”
Lady Mary shook herself and replied,
“No. There’s no need. Come inside, I want to talk to you.”
Lucy was miserable as she shed her wet clothes and made herself presentable enough go down to the drawing room. If Peter became ill it would be her fault. As the oldest of the cousins, she should have stopped the game. She wondered if Lady Mary would tell her that she was going to be sent away.
She found Lady Mary alone in the room.
“Sit down, Lucy. There is something I must tell you.” Lady Mary said, “When you first came here, I was disappointed because you did not look like my son. I couldn’t see anything of him in you at all. Charles was the favourite of my children because the others are all like their father and he favoured me. He understood me and I understood him. So it was a great shock when he married your mother. I never saw him again. Until the solicitor wrote to me, I didn’t know what happened to him after he left. So I couldn’t ask him to return after my husband died. I sent for you in the hope that you would take his place in the family but you seemed like a stranger. I even wondered if you might not be his daughter at all but an imposter who had come in my real granddaughter’s place. Yesterday you sang and Charles was a good singer. Then this afternoon when you laughed…” Tears sparkled in Lady Mary’s eyes. “For a moment I couldn’t see who was laughing and I thought it was him. You laugh just the way he used to do when he lived here as a boy.”
Without thinking, Lucy fell on her knees before her grandmother and put her arms around her. Lady Mary stiffened and then relaxed.
“How good it is to hear that laugh again.”
Chapter Nineteen
Christmas passed in a whirl of excitement which Lucy thoroughly enjoyed. Her grandmother had accepted her into the family. Peter did not fall sick, despite all the dire forebodings after the snowball fight, so the festivities were not marred. Lucy met more of the neighbourhood families at church and through visits. She went to several dinners and to a small dance held at Kniveley, the home of Lady Mary’s friend, Mrs. Sims. Only twelve couples stood up on the dance floor and Lucy was partnered by the younger son of the house, who proved to be a good dancer. She found herself well able to follow the steps of the dances although a few were new to her. She mentally thanked Mrs. Beckwith and even the hated Lady Westmore for arranging her lessons. Lady Ridgeway praised her and said that she should have no difficulty during the forthcoming Social Season.
After Christmas, the household was in turmoil, packing for the trip to Dublin. General Ridgeway had not bought a house in the city but rented a property close to Fitzwilliam Square. Peter could not come with them, but stayed at home to work with Miss Reynolds and his tutor. Lucy discovered to her surprise that she would miss him. Nell, however, got her wish. After much pleading by both girls, she was allowed to accompany the party.
The journey was not pleasant for the roads were bumpy and full of mud after the constant winter rain. The coaches became mired on two occasions but Lucy said that even travelling on rough roads was far better than being at sea. When the carriages drew up at the door in Lower Hatch Street she saw the house that would be her home for the Season. At first sight it reminded her of London, tall and with large windows on the first two floors. Her own room was on the third floor, not far from Nell’s. The girls had asked to share a room but Lady Ridgeway decreed that Lucy would often be up late and return when Nell should be asleep. As soon as the family were unpacked and the rooms set to rights, Lady Mary and Lady Ridgeway took Lucy visiting. Several of their friends and acquaintances had already arrived in the capital. Sir Edgar accompanied them occasionally although he often retreated to one of the gentlemen’s clubs th
at he frequented.
The ladies’ visits produced invitations to select dinner parties, musical evenings and a few informal dances, for the Season was only starting. Lucy’s spare time was taken up with fittings for new clothes. Now that Lady Mary had taken responsibility for her, she decreed that more outfits were needed than the ones contrived for her in Kinsale. Officially out of full mourning, Lucy could now wear white, mauve and darker colours. Delighted to be able to put away her black gowns, she hoped she would not have to wear mourning again for a long time.
Lucy went to a dancing teacher who also specialised in preparing girls for their presentation. They had to be trained in the full court curtsey while wearing a train. Lucy was certain she would trip and fall over the wretched thing but she soon learned that all of her fellow debutantes shared the same fear. Parading around the room with an old sheet pinned to her shoulders, she found that a movement was possible in spite of the difficulty. She came out of one of these sessions, accompanied by Rose, her Dublin maid, when she saw O’Rourke walking down the street towards them.
“Why there is Mr. Anselm,” she cried in surprise, remembering his assumed name only just in time. She was glad he was still wearing his clerical costume, which had stopped her from making a grave mistake. He came up and bowed over her hand, sweeping off his hat. She noticed that his hair had now been restored to the dark hue she remembered from England.
“Miss Ridgeway, how nice to meet you here,” he said.
“I didn’t expect to see you in Dublin, Mr. Anselm.” Lucy turned to Rose. “Mr. Anselm is an old friend of mine whom I haven’t seen for some time. We have much to talk about.” She smiled at O’Rourke. “My I claim your escort to the house we are staying in?”
“It would be my pleasure.” He offered her his arm.
“Rose, go home please and tell Lady Ridgeway where I am. We will be with you shortly.”
Lucy waited until Rose was some distance away before she said,
“I didn’t believe you’d be here. Isn’t Dublin too dangerous for you?”
“I told you I would. I came a few days ago and have been keeping out of sight. In this disguise I’m safe enough for a while. Once I learned your family had arrived, I visited your aunt. She told me where you were this afternoon. Tell me what happened since I left Kinsale and then I’ll tell you the rest of my story.”
Lucy did as he asked. When she had finished, he said, “I’m glad your grandmother has recognised you. It’s what you always longed for, isn’t it?”
“I did once but I’m not so sure now.”
“Why not?”
“The girls I meet here have little to talk about other than their dresses and their beaux, who is going to the next party and who is not.”
O’Rourke laughed. “You were like that when I first met you.”
“I was not! How horrid you are.”
“Don’t turn away from me, please. I didn’t mean it. Don’t you want to know what happened to me?”
It took more coaxing before her curiosity overcame her sudden pique, for his remark had stung. He told her that he had been accepted in Dundalk and had managed to act his part so far. He had asked for leave to go to Dublin, pleading the need to consult a doctor and it had been permitted, although he was expected back soon.
“I doubt I can go back,” he told her. “My theology isn’t good enough to keep up the masquerade, even if I should want to. Someone is sure to challenge me on a point of religion and I won’t be able to answer them. I never thought I should be glad of the lessons the old priest beat into me and I didn’t pay him enough attention. I’ve decided that once I leave Dublin, I won’t return.”
“Where will you go?” Lucy felt her heart sinking.
“Liverpool first and then on to America or maybe Canada. Across the ocean I can return to my profession and live a different life, more like my father’s.”
“It sounds so exciting,” Lucy said wistfully. “I wish I could come with you.”
“Remember that you don’t like going to sea and the voyage is a long one. Is this where you are staying?”
They had been observed, for the front door opened and a footman stood bowing to them.
“Come in, please, and renew your acquaintance with my family.”
Lady Ridgeway greeted him with her usual friendly manners and Lady Mary with civility. He spent the requisite half hour with them and received an invitation to accompany them to a musical evening the following night which he accepted.
“This is kind of you, ma’am, for I have few acquaintances in Dublin and I enjoy good music.”
Lucy looked forward to the soirée, now that she knew O’Rourke would be present. It was to be held at a house in Fitzwilliam Square. Lucy already knew some of the people present and introduced O’Rourke. She was pleased to see that his party manners were above reproach. He even mimicked some of the affected behaviour exhibited by a few of the young men around him. She relaxed and went to talk to some of the girls she knew. They were soon joined by a young man whom she had met the week before.
“Miss Ridgeway, I’m delighted to find you here. I’ve been told that you are musical and since I’m not, you must tell me which pieces to admire.”
“Your informant erred, Captain Clayton. I like to sing, yes, but I am not really ‘musical’ as you call it.”
“Nevertheless, allow me to sit with you. I promise to clap when you clap and refrain when you do.”
Lucy laughed. “How absurd you are!”
He took her hand and led her to a seat near the front of the room. She looked around for her aunt and received a small nod of approval. She knew that she could not spend all the evening talking to O’Rourke, as she longed to do. It would be thought exceedingly odd and would draw all eyes to them, which might be dangerous. If she must talk to someone else, Adrian Clayton was as good as any other. He was an officer stationed in Dublin Castle. These young military men, keen dancers and sportsmen, took part in all the various activities of the Social Season. There were always several present on every occasion. Lucy found Clayton better company than many. He was both handsome and sensible. Also, according to Lady Ridgeway, he came from a wealthy family. Lucy enjoyed the time spent in his company and allowed him to take her in to supper. She searched for O’Rourke but he was not present at the meal and she found out later from Lady Ridgeway that he had taken his leave early, pleading a headache.
When she teased him about it the next day, as they were taking a short stroll in Fitzwilliam Square, he frowned and said, “I had to. There was a man present who I knew from school. I doubt he would accept me as a curate, an unlikely profession for someone like me. I thought it better to leave rather than take the chance of him denouncing me.”
“Then you mustn’t come into society again and put yourself into danger.”
He laughed. “Don’t you like life with a little spice of danger? I do.”
“Not the kind of danger that gets you thrown into prison or hanged!”
“You’re anxious about me?”
“Why shouldn’t I be? You saved me, remember.”
He turned to look at her. “Courage, Alannah, I’m not so careless of my own skin. I’ll leave Dublin soon, I promise you, but not yet.”
“Every day puts you in danger, I wish you would go.”
“Do you really wish that?” he asked softly.
Her eyes dropped and she shook her head.
“I’ll go before the end of the Season, when I’ve seen you presented and your engagement to some eligible parti has been announced.”
“I don’t want to marry an eligible parti,” she whispered rebelliously.
“You did once.”
“When you first met me, perhaps. I’m not like that any more.”
“What are you like now?” he asked, but she never had a chance to tell him. Lady Ridgeway came towards them accompanied by Nell. O’Rourke made his escape as soon as he decently could, leaving Lucy prey to her gloomy reflexions.
“I
don’t know what you see in that man,” Nell said after he had left. “He’s not nearly as handsome as Captain Clayton.”
“And when did you see Captain Clayton, miss?”
“I saw him arrive when he called on Mama the other day.”
“Nell, you must not say such things,” Lady Ridgeway reproved her. “It makes me think I should have left you behind in Kinsale after all.”
“Oh Mama, I promise I will be extremely sensible all the rest of the time we are here. Please don’t send me home. It would be too cruel.”
“I won’t, if you guard your tongue from now on. Not that I believe a word of your promise. You have never been sensible yet.”
Excitement was rising in the family because Lucy’s ball was approaching when she would be formally introduced to society. It would not be as grand as some of those which would be held later on in the Season as Lady Mary explained to her.
“It gives a false impression to compete with the foremost families in Ireland. Parvenus do so and we will not. Your ball will be smaller than some, with fewer invitations sent out but I don’t expect to see our rooms thin of company, even if it’s not a fashionable squeeze.”
“Indeed, Grandmama, I am very grateful to you for giving me a ball at all.”
“Nonsense. Not to do so would create a bad impression and I am certain that we will all enjoy it.”
Most important to Lucy was the fact that she was to have a new dress of white slipper satin worn under an overdress of silver net, embroidered with tiny stars. For once Lady Mary decreed she might wear white gloves instead of black, “since it is your debut”. Her hair was brushed until it shone and then twisted on top of her head. A wreath of lilies-of-the valley was pinned to one side. Nell stayed in the room to watch the transformation. At the end, she clapped her hands and said,
“Oh you look beautiful. I’m sure all the young men will fall in love with you,” earning her a reproving glare from her mother.
“Yet it lacks something,” Lady Ridgeway said. She was already dressed for the ball in a deep red gown and was wearing one of the family tiaras. She put down a jewel case onto the dressing table.
Miss Ridgeway's Privateer (Regency Belles & Beaux Book 3) Page 17