Back in Society (The Poor Relation series)

by Beaton, M. C.

  Sir Philip joined in the toasts. He was feeling increasingly miserable. They were all splitting up. The colonel and Lady Fortescue had found a pleasant house in Kent and would remove there on the following day, while Miss Tonks, now Mrs Davy, and her husband would take up residence in a handsome apartment in South Audley Street. He himself would stay on in the rented house in Manchester Square until the lease ran out in four months’ time. The fact that his clothes were now of the best and that his jewels winked and glittered could not comfort his lonely old soul. He wished with all his heart that he himself had proposed to Miss Tonks. She had, as he now knew, lost hope that Mr Davy would ever propose to her, and so she would have accepted him, and he, Sir Philip, would not be facing a lonely old age.

  When the first guests began to leave, he slipped away and walked outside into Bond Street. The sun was shining, intensifying his loneliness. He looked up at the hotel, at the sign ‘The Grand,’ and thought it a silly sort of unoriginal name. No more guests to worry about, no more frights, no more adventures, no more poverty. He felt like crying. He would go to Limmer’s and get drunk. Tears filled his eyes and he turned away blindly and collided with a lady who was walking along with her maid. He whipped off his hat and stammered out his apologies.

  ‘Sir Philip!’ exclaimed the lady, a statuesque matron with large teeth and improbable blonde curls peeping from under her rakish bonnet. ‘Do you not remember me? Susan Darkwood?’

  He bowed low and then realized she was dressed from head to foot in black. ‘Your husband . . .?’

  ‘Lord Darkwood died six months ago.’

  ‘I am so sorry. You and your husband were among our first guests.’

  Lady Darkwood giggled. ‘Did we not have fun then? And poor little Harriet came up from the kitchens to marry her duke. And now you are all so fashionable and little me was not even asked to the wedding. Still, it must be a happy day for you.’

  ‘Not for me. I am alone again.’

  She heaved a sigh. ‘As am I. Ah, here is my carriage. You will come home with me and we will take tea and talk of old times,’ said Lady Darkwood, who would not have dreamt of entertaining such a lowly creature as Sir Philip in the old days.

  He hesitated. ‘I am not very good company.’

  She smiled down into his eyes. ‘Then we must think of something to cheer you.’

  His elderly heart suddenly began to thump against his ribs. He smiled back. ‘I should like that. I need that. The company of a beautiful lady would do me a power of good.’

  ‘Wicked man.’ She tapped his hand with her glove. ‘Come along.’

  As happy as he had so recently been sad. Sir Philip climbed into her carriage and took the seat next to her. He pressed her hand and she gave him a languishing look.

  The carriage moved on and rolled down Bond Street, away from the hotel.

  And Sir Philip Sommerville did not look back.

  Not once.