Loving Protector

by Sally Quilford

It seemed to Calista that it was about the most honest thing Blanche had said so far, even if Blanche clearly had her own ideas about the Colonel’s marital status. She was beautiful enough to entice him. Whether she would decide the Colonel was a little too far down the social status was another matter.

  They reached Lady Bedlington’s house in central London by early evening. Her Ladyship had gone out to dinner. The Colonel and Mr. Benedict said their goodbyes, leaving Evelyn and the two girls to settle in.

  “I will call on you,” Mr. Benedict said to Evelyn. “If you will permit it, that is.”

  “I should like to see you again. Thank you again for your help, Colonel, Mr. Benedict.” Evelyn curtseyed, closely followed by the two girls.

  “You are most welcome,” said the Colonel. “I hope we shall see you again.” Calista glanced up at the Colonel surprised to find he was looking at her. “All of you.”

  Chapter Two

  “Mama, you are not to see that man again. I forbid it.”

  “Blanche, you are in no position to forbid me to do anything. Do remember that you are not yet twenty-one and I am still your mother.”

  Calista gazed out of the window whilst her step-sister and Evelyn had yet another one of their rows. The square was coming to life as the trades people arrived with their wares and young ladies took a walk in the park that decorated the centre. She longed to be out there, and was indeed wearing her coat in readiness, but Blanche had much to say.

  She had hoped that being in London would at least appease her step-sister, but Mr. Benedict’s familiarity with Evelyn had infuriated her.

  The previous evening had been quiet enough. Even Blanche was not too silly as to behave badly in front of Lady Bedlington, whom she relied upon to introduce her to the correct society. She was also happy with the rooms they had been given, which overlooked the leafy London square. But when a message had arrived that morning, from Mr. Benedict, asking if he may call upon Evelyn later that day, Blanche had waited until they were back up in their own rooms, getting ready to go out for a walk, before erupting.

  “You will not marry yet another penniless architect,” said Blanche.

  “Mr. Benedict is an old friend, Blanche. I have no intentions of marrying him.”

  “I am pleased to hear it. You can do better.”

  Calista was aware that Blanche glanced at her as she said it, but was in no mood to argue. If Blanche did not appreciate their surroundings, Calista did. She gazed back at the square, praying for the argument to end so that she might make the most of the morning. It seemed to her that every day began with some disagreement. Blanche did not like her dress. Blanche did not like her breakfast. Blanche did not like Calista being involved in their entertainments. It was exhausting. Calista closed her eyes and let the faint breeze from the window cool her brow. It was pointless getting angry with Blanche, because one could never win the argument.

  “I am rather too old to attract the attentions of a member of the aristocracy, dearest. But my friends are my own affair.”

  “Father would not be very happy at how far down we have fallen,” said Blanche.

  “Might I remind you, dearest that your father was not a rich man and that all he did have was entailed away, leaving us penniless.”

  “Father was part of the nobility. A distant relative of the Duke of Devonshire.”

  “Hmm,” said Evelyn.

  “Is that true?” asked Calista, when Blanche had stormed out of the room.

  Evelyn came and sat on the window seat next to her. “Only by marriage and then very distantly. But Cedric rather liked to play up the connection. He used to tell Blanche that she would one day marry a Duke.”

  “I wish you would not let her speak to you so unkindly,” said Calista.

  “It upsets you to hear anyone being unkind, dear. I am sorry that our squabbles are spoiling your first full day in London. Sadly Blanche treats me as her father did, even though she does not know the reason.”

  “What do you mean?” Calista looked at Evelyn sharply.

  “Nothing.” Evelyn looked suddenly very sad. “She is right. I cannot seem Mr. Benedict again.”

  “Why ever not? If you like him and he likes you.”

  “For your sake, dearest.”

  “Mine? I would not stop you if you wanted to marry again.”

  “You do know, do you not, that your father’s estate is only available to me for my lifetime or until I marry again? Not that I am suggesting Mr. Benedict and I will ever marry. But if I did marry anyone, I may not be able to take care of you. I would hope I would meet someone who cares about you as I do, but husbands can be very strange about such things. Taking on my daughter is one thing, but taking on my step-daughter is not something I could guarantee.”

  “I would not hold you back, Evelyn.”

  “I know that. This is why you are so dear to me.” Evelyn kissed Calista’s cheek. “Sometimes I wish… Oh never mind. I am sorry that Blanche treats you so cruelly.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can. But I can also see what it costs you to have to stick up for yourself. When I first met you, you were a bright, cheerful little thing. Now I see sadness in your eyes, especially when Blanche and I argue.”

  “I am just not used to it. Mama and Papa seldom argued. I suppose being an only child, I was also spared the problems of sibling rivalry. I just wish Blanche did not hate me so much. When you came to us, I was so happy that I had a sister at last and now…” Calista’s voice faded away. She did not really like criticizing Blanche to her step-mother.

  When her widowed father had first announced his intention to marry the widow of an old school friend, Calista, who was fifteen at the time, had been delighted for him. She had known, of course, that he had started visiting Midchester a lot after he had attended Mr. Kirkham’s funeral, but it was a year before he brought Evelyn and Blanche to their home. As Calista had told Evelyn, she had hoped she and Blanche would be proper sisters, but Blanche had hated Calista, hated her father, and hated their home. Blanche’s own father, as Evelyn had pointed out, had filled Blanche’s head full of her own importance.

  Calista’s mother and father had also nurtured her in a way that gave her confidence, but they had not pretended that the family were anything other than they were; landed gentry and on the lower end of the scale at that. Her father, who had a small annuity, had not earned much as an architect. Her mother had been ill for a very long time and he was reluctant to leave home, which was why most of his work was done in the Derbyshire area. By the time he was able to work again, he told Calista, “Younger men are coming up now, dearest, with newer, fresher ideas. No one wants your old Papa.” She wished he could have known that Colonel Windebank had thought of him when looking for an architect. More than that, she wished he had lived long enough to be able to do it. He was very talented, regardless of what he said about his age.

  Evelyn stroked her hair and said in a quiet voice, “I understand, dearest. I love my daughter, but sometimes, may God forgive me, I do not like her very much. She frightens me sometimes. I believe that she will stop at nothing to get her own way and is willing to tread on anyone who gets in her path.”

  Half an hour later, strolling out in the sunshine, even Blanche could not spoil Calista’s enjoyment. They were going to Bond Street to order their new dresses, and whilst Calista would normally insist she did not care about finery, even she could not deny a sense of excitement at the thought of owning a fine new ball gown.

  “Lady Bedlington said that Bond Street was built by a syndicate,” said Calista. “It used to overlook open fields. Now it has many of the fine arts houses, including Sotheby’s.”

  “Fascinating,” said Blanche in her usual bored manner. “But we are going to buy dresses, not antiques. Of course, when I am married to a rich man, I am sure I shall want to furnish my house accordingly, and then I’ll worry about fine arts.”

  “Do not give your heart to the first person you meet,
” said Evelyn. “You have not appeared in society yet. You may fall in love with someone without a title, dearest.”

  “I do not think so. Lady Bedlington told me that Colonel Windebank is very rich. Probably one of the richest men in England. I cannot find a better catch.”

  “Perhaps you should let him be the one to catch you,” Evelyn suggested. “Men do not approve of women who pursue them. It is not the way a lady should behave.”

  “Well of course, Mama, what do you take me for? However, I noticed that he could not keep his eyes off me in the carriage yesterday. I believe a proposal will be forthcoming.”

  Sometimes Calista wished she had Blanche’s confidence. Evelyn was quite right about her daughter. She would have what she wanted and not care who she stepped upon to get it. Given that young ladies of their time were not allowed to earn money any other way, perhaps Blanche was more realistic than most. Calista longed to marry someone who loved her, and whom she loved in return. Sadly the cold hard truth was if she did not find a husband, if Evelyn did marry again, she would be left penniless and alone in the world. That would inevitably happen when Evelyn died, even though she had many years left yet.

  Suddenly the idea of the new dresses seemed less exciting, because they could be seen as a means of luring a man into marriage and Calista did not wish to do that. If Evelyn remarried, she would find some way to support herself. She was good at needlework, so she could make dresses for the local gentry who were not as well off and could not afford London fashion prices.

  Not one to stay glum for long, Calista soon became caught up in the excitement of ordering new clothes. Even Blanche could not spoil it with her barbed comments. “I do not think that colour suits you,” Blanche said more than once. “You should wear grey to suit your personality.”

  “Blanche…” Evelyn cut in mildly. “You look very pretty, Calista. That shade of blue suits your eyes.” Then as if she thought she was being unkind to her daughter, “You look magnificent, Blanche. I am sure you will break lots of hearts before the season is over.” Blanche did indeed look very beautiful in a dress of dark red, which contrasted well with her dark hair and eyes.

  “The first heart I shall break will be the Colonel’s,” Blanche said, loftily. “He is a very handsome man, and I hear very rich, but whilst we were walking it occurred to me that he does not have a title. However, I shall find him interesting to practice upon and it will make other, more important men jealous when they see him making love to me.”

  “I am sure it will, dearest.”

  With their purchases completed, they returned to Lady Bedlington’s house, only to find she had visitors. As they approached the drawing room, they heard Her Ladyship say, “It is most irregular, Brook.”

  “I realize that Aunt Agatha,” said the Colonel, “but it is how I wish things to be for now.”

  “Ah.” Mr. Benedict cut in, with what seemed to be a warning note in his voice. “I believe the ladies have returned.”

  “I have pleasing news,” said Lady Bedlington, after the greetings were completed and everyone was seated. “My nephew and his friend, Mr. Benedict will be staying with us for a few days.” Lady Bedlington was an elderly woman of indeterminate age. She was known for her sharp tongue, but could also be very charming. Calista had liked her immediately, although their meeting the previous evening had been somewhat brief.

  “I hope we will not intrude upon you,” said the Colonel.

  “Not at all,” said Evelyn. “It is, of course, her Ladyship’s business whom she invites, but we are all very pleased to see you again.”

  “Yes, I have been hearing about your adventures,” said Lady Bedlington. “Really what is this world coming to when three ladies of good standing are assaulted in such a way? They should hang them all.” Calista could not be certain, but she had the distinct idea that Her Ladyship was being deliberately provocative rather than saying what she really believed.

  “I fear you will disturb Miss Haywood by saying so,” said the Colonel. “She is very sorry for the highwaymen.”

  Calista blushed, feeling that he was teasing her. “I only feel, as I told you, Colonel that a man must be very desperate to turn to crime.”

  “I concede that, Miss Haywood. I did not mean to cause offence.”

  “You are a young woman with a good heart, Miss Haywood,” said Lady Bedlington, “and I cannot censure you for that.”

  “I too think it is tragic,” said Blanche. “I imagine the poor man lives in a hovel, without doors or windows.”

  “I rather think he would have trouble leaving the hovel if there were no door,” said Mr. Benedict. When he saw the flash of anger in Blanche’s eyes, he added hastily, “Forgive me, Miss Kirkham, I only talk in jest.”

  “I am sure you are thought very amusing amongst your own kind,” said Blanche.

  “Blanche,” Evelyn hissed under her breath.

  “My father, Mr. Kirkham, was part of the nobility,” Blanche said to Lady Bedlington, ignoring her mother.

  “Kirkham? Kirkham?” Lady Bedlington frowned. “I do not believe I am familiar with the Kirkhams. I know your mother, of course, as one of the Morehamptons. A very fine old family from Midchester. Do you remember them, Brook?”

  “Yes, indeed, though I had not had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Kirkham until yesterday.”

  “But you had, Mr. Benedict, I am sure. In fact,” Lady Bedlington smiled and it was very charming, “I remember you both stealing my apples. Scrumping they call it in Midchester.”

  “I am most embarrassed that my mother did such a thing,” said Blanche.

  “Do not be, child. She was young, and full of high spirits. You may not believe it, but I was young once myself.”

  “You are young now, My Lady,” said Blanche. “Why, I do not believe you can be a day over seventy.”

  “I am sixty-five,” said Lady Bedlington. But as she said it, she winked at her great nephew. Calista lowered her head so that her smile was not too obvious. “And you child,” Lady Bedlington said, addressing Calista, “my great nephew tells me that your father was an architect.”

  “That is correct, My Lady.”

  “I knew the Haywoods of course, as a young lady. Everyone did. A most talented family. I believe your late uncle was a painter was he not and that his portrait of the king is very well thought of.”

  “I believe so, My Lady.”

  “The Haywoods were related to nobility, did you know that, Brook?”

  “No, Aunt Agatha, I did not.”

  “Yes. If I am correct in thinking so, Miss Haywood’s grandmother was the youngest child of Lord Norton. Their family is very artistic. Are you artistic, Miss Haywood?”

  Blanche, clearly deciding Calista had had enough attention said, “I am told, though it is not for me to say, that I play the pianoforte to perfection. Perhaps I could play for you one night.”

  “I was speaking of Miss Haywood. Are you as artistic as the rest of your family, child?”

  “I paint a little,” said Calista. “And I write poetry. I …” She paused, afraid that what she said next would be considered shocking.

  “Yes, do go on.”

  “I like to design buildings, though I do not have my father’s talent.”

  “It is hardly a pursuit for a lady,” said Blanche. “Do you not think, Lady Bedlington?”

  “The Countess of Shrewsbury, helped to design Chatsworth House and Hardwick Hall,” said Calista, hotly.

  “Bess of Hardwick,” said Lady Bedlington. “Yes, she was a rather formidable, but very talented woman. Chatsworth is a masterpiece. Not that I am quite so old that I knew her.” Her Ladyship’s eyes twinkled in Blanche’s direction, but Blanche seemed not to notice.

  “Calista also redesigned some of our old dresses,” said Evelyn. “She copied styles from the latest magazines to do so. I do not think anyone would notice they are not brand new.”

  “They will now you have said, Mama,” Blanche muttered.

  “That is v
ery sensible,” said Lady Bedlington. “Women spend far too much on clothes. I still have dresses that I purchased twenty years ago. My maid does her best to redesign them but perhaps you might take a look at them whilst you are here, Miss Haywood.”

  “I would be glad to be of any assistance,” said Calista.

  “Of course,” said Blanche, “I was only saying this morning, ‘Mama, you must not spend so much on clothes. It is a waste of money.’ She would not listen and insisted I had all the accessories I needed.”

  Calista clamped her lips shut, remembering that particular tantrum well. Blanche had attracted the attention of everyone in the shop.

  “Well…” said the Colonel, standing up. “Whilst this talk of fashion is all very fascinating, Mr. Benedict and I must arrange to have our luggage brought over.”

  “We forgot you were there, dear,” said Lady Bedlington, smiling benignly.

  The colonel bowed. “Perhaps, Miss Haywood, you would permit me to see some of your designs one day. Of buildings, that is, not dresses.”

  “I fear I may well be out of a job soon,” said Mr. Benedict, with a kind smile in Calista’s direction. “Especially if you do have our father’s talent.”

  “As dearest Calista has told you in her customary modest way,” said Blanche. “She is not very good.”

  “I hope she will allow us to be the judge of her talent,” said the Colonel. “As we will be when you when you play the pianoforte for us, Miss Kirkham.”

  Calista was not sure, but she suspected there might have been an insult lurking in the Colonel’s words.

  “I shall very much look forward to playing for you,” said Blanche, looking up at him through lowered lashes.

  Chapter Three

  Calista sat in the garden and listened. For once all she could hear was the sound of birds singing. Blanche had been invited to visit two young sisters she had met at dinner the night before, and it was made clear that Calista was not invited. Evelyn had left with Blanche, apologizing to Calista as she did so.

  She did not mind. The sisters had been vacuous in the extreme and she was more than happy to take a break from her step-sister. The previous afternoon had been dominated by another tantrum about Calista monopolizing Lady Bedlington.