The Belle Dames Club

by Melinda Hammond

  ‘Oh what a wonderful jest! I vow I could not have planned it better!’

  ‘Planned what?’ demanded Clarissa.

  ‘Why, Sir Howard is about to learn his lesson. He will come to Norwell House tomorrow night and we will give him a night he will never forget.’

  ‘We will?’

  ‘Yes, Sally, for I know you will both want to be with me in this! We will need Julia, too, of course. You heard Lady Norwell say they were off to the theatre tomorrow – Julia must persuade them to go without her. It will be perfect.’

  ‘Dorothea I cannot bear this another moment!’ cried Lady Sarah, trying to sound severe. ‘Just what are you planning?’

  ‘Join me at Norwell House at half an hour before ten tomorrow night and you will know everything,’ Lady Gaunt promised her. ‘Howard Besthorpe has made many a poor girl’s life a misery with his unwanted attentions. Perhaps after this he will be a little more careful in his assignations. Come, we must get back, and we must find Lady Norwell’s party and tell Julia of our little scheme. Sally, you must go back to Lady Wyckenham – it would not do for Besthorpe to see you and Julia together, and wearing the same colour – I do not rate his intelligence very highly, but he might guess something is afoot.’

  They were soon back within the Grand Walk, where Clarissa and Lady Gaunt made their way around the promenade until they found Lady Norwell’s party enjoying supper in one of the boxes situated behind the orchestra. Lady Gaunt sailed up to the box and engaged Lady Norwell in conversation, while Clarissa, following her instructions, tried to catch Julia’s eye. Barnabus and his sister were giving Dorothea their attention, but Lord Alresford had risen upon their approach and was now standing against the painted back-wall of the box, idly surveying them all. As she moved towards Mrs Norwell she was acutely aware that he was watching her.

  ‘I have never been to Vauxhall before,’ she remarked. ‘I was quite entranced by the gardens. The musicians are very good, are they not, Mrs Norwell?’

  Julia looked a little bemused.

  ‘Yes, although I am not very musical—’

  Clarissa hurried on.

  ‘I see you have finished your meal, pray give me your company to take a closer look at the orchestra. I would dearly love to study the gothic architecture.’

  Julia hesitated, and Clarissa was forced to risk a pleading glance. With relief she saw Julia take up her fan and prepare to come with her. Immediately Lord Alresford stepped forward and picked up Julia’s emerald domino.

  ‘Perhaps it might be best if I accompany you, Mrs Norwell,’ he murmured, throwing the cloak around her shoulders.

  Clarissa put up her hand.

  ‘No, no, there is no need, my lord. We do not go far, and I promise we shall not move out of sight of the box.’

  The look with which he met her rather hurried assurances gave her a jolt of surprise. Surely that could not be a gleam of malicious humour in those dark eyes?

  With a faint shrug the gentleman nodded and stepped back to allow them to leave the box. Clarissa took Julia’s arm, but as they walked away she felt as if his eyes were fixed upon her, and she had to steel herself not to look back.

  ‘You wanted to speak privately with me, I think.’

  Mrs Norwell’s soft voice brought Clarissa back to her mission.

  ‘Yes. You have seen Sir Howard Besthorpe is here tonight?’

  Julia shivered.

  ‘I did see him, but thankfully he has not approached me.’

  ‘He mistook Sally Matlock’s green cloak for your own and followed her.’

  ‘Oh heavens!’

  ‘Dorothea Gaunt and I were with her, so there was no danger. He spoke through a hedge, thinking he was addressing you.’

  Julia giggled.

  ‘Like Pyramus and Thisbe.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Shakespeare.’

  Clarissa gave a gurgle of laughter.

  ‘Of course – speaking through a chink in the wall! Why did I not think of that? Well, Dorothea answered, pretending to be you, Julia, and she told Sir Howard to be at Norwell House at ten o’clock tomorrow night.’ She saw Julia’s startled look and patted her arm. ‘Dorothea has a plan to stop Sir Howard’s attentions to you once and for all.’

  ‘Oh if only she could.’

  ‘Well, Lady Gaunt is a very forceful character, but she says she needs you there, if it is to work. It will be necessary for you to cry off from the theatre tomorrow night. You must insist that everyone else should go and you will remain behind.’ Clarissa drew a breath. ‘Dorothea also says it would be best if you were alone. Can you send the servants away?’

  ‘The servants? How can I do that?’

  Since Clarissa had no answer she remained silent, but after a moment Julia said slowly, ‘What is Lady Gaunt’s plan?’

  ‘That I cannot tell you – in truth, I do not know,’ admitted Clarissa. ‘Can I tell her you agree?’

  ‘I-I am not sure … Barnabus has arranged the box at the theatre especially for me…. You say it will rid me of Sir Howard for good?’

  ‘Dorothea says so.’

  Clarissa felt Julia’s hand tighten on her arm.

  ‘Very well, I will do it!’ whispered Julia, looking straight ahead of her. ‘I will do it.’

  ‘Good.’ Clarissa realized she had been holding her breath and laughed softly. ‘Who would have thought joining the Belles Dames Club would involve so much intrigue?’

  ‘It is very good of you all to help me,’ responded Julia. ‘Shall we go back now? You can tell Lady Gaunt her plan can go ahead.’

  ‘By all means, but first, since it was the reason I gave for stealing you away, I think we really must admire the orchestra.’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  As the ladies of the Belles Dames Club made their way back to their carriages, they tried unsuccessfully to learn Lady Gaunt’s plans for the following night but she would tell them nothing, promising to reveal all only when they reached Norwell House.

  ‘But that is no good to me!’ cried Mrs Leighton-Kettering. ‘You know I am holding a dinner tomorrow night, so I cannot join you.’

  ‘Nor I,’ added Alicia Greynard. ‘Really, Dorothea, it is too bad of you to arrange these things before asking the rest of us.’

  Lady Gaunt waved one languid hand.

  ‘Well, it could not be helped, the opportunity was too good to miss.’

  Lady Wyckenham tapped her arm with her closed fan.

  ‘Come, Dorothea, surely you can give us some hint of what you mean to do?’

  But Lady Gaunt was not to be moved and the ladies went their separate ways, still grumbling at their friend’s secretive nature.

  Lady Wyckenham’s frustration was still simmering when they at last reached Charlotte Street.

  ‘It is just too bad of Dorothea!’ she complained. ‘I would very much like to know just what she expects to do. I cannot say that I like this. Dorothea can be so impetuous, and is apt to be a little wild at times. Good evening, Simmons, how good of you to wait up for us.’

  ‘Good evening, my lady. I thought I should, seeing as there’s a letter for you.’ He indicated a sleepy-looking footman standing behind him.

  ‘A letter?’ Lady Wyckenham held out her hand for it, tore open the seal and unfolded the crackling sheet as she walked across to the console table at one side of the hall, where a cluster of candles gleamed in a silver holder. Clarissa removed her domino and handed it to the butler, all the time keeping her eyes upon her stepmama. Lady Wyckenham read the note, her face impassive, then folded the sheet. She turned to the footman.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘There is no reply.’

  The servant bowed and Simmons opened the front door to let him out. Clarissa frowned.

  ‘What is it, Mama-Nell? What was that letter?’

  ‘Nothing to worry you, my dear.’ Lady Wyckenham set off up the stairs.

  Clarissa followed her.

  ‘But it has worried you, madam.’
r />   Lady Wyckenham laughed.

  ‘Mama-Nell, was it from a man – is he, is he importuning you?’

  My lady’s steps faltered but only for a moment.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Like Sir Howard Besthorpe and Julia?’

  ‘Not quite like that, my dear.’

  She hurried up the stairs to her room, but at the door Clarissa stopped her.

  ‘Mama-Nell, will you not tell me? Perhaps I may help you.’

  ‘Bless you, child. It is nothing, a mere inconvenience that I must resolve.’

  ‘But Mama-Nell—’

  Lady Wyckenham flashed her a brief, mischievous smile.

  ‘Do you know, I find I can be quite as secretive as Dorothea Gaunt? Go to bed, Clarissa, and do not worry yourself over me.’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  It had been arranged that Lady Gaunt would collect Clarissa and Lady Wyckenham in her carriage the following evening, and shortly before the appointed hour Clarissa walked into Mama-Nell’s dressing-room.

  ‘Lady Gaunt said to wear something dark, so I thought this riding habit would suit, since it is midnight-blue. What do you think?’ She stopped, blinking in surprise to find her stepmother still seated at her dressing table. ‘Madam? You are not ready, you have not changed.’

  ‘Oh, Clarissa, my love – you must give my apologies to Dorothea. I am not able to come with you tonight.’ My lady did not turn from her mirror, but her voice sounded unnaturally bright.

  Clarissa crossed the room and stood behind Lady Wyckenham, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

  ‘Mama-Nell, what is this, what is wrong?’

  Lady Wyckenham did not meet her eyes.

  ‘Why, nothing, my love. My, how suspicious you are grown! No, I-I have an appointment that I had overlooked and I cannot break it, so you will have to go without me. I am sure you will manage splendidly, whatever Dorothea has arranged, and you must tell me all about it when you return.’

  Clarissa frowned.

  ‘This has something to do with the letter you received last night, does is not?’

  Lady Wyckenham stood up.

  ‘I will not lie to you, Clarissa. Yes, it has. But as I told you last night, it is a mere inconvenience. I shall soon resolve it.’

  ‘Then let me help you!’

  ‘No; you are pledged to Julia Norwell this evening. Now, I hear someone at the door, most likely it is Dorothea Gaunt, so off you go now and do not keep her waiting.’ She smiled and came forward to give Clarissa a swift hug. ‘Go, Clarissa.’

  Lady Wyckenham stayed only until she heard Lady Gaunt’s carriage drawing away from the house before she sent for her own coach. When it pulled up at the door some twenty minutes later, she was ready, attired in a mannish riding outfit of dark brown camlet with a matching beaver hat set on top of her gleaming curls, and a heavy veil hiding her face. She directed her coachman to a house off Piccadilly and when it pulled up she alighted, saying, ‘Wait for me here, Jacob. I shall not be long.’

  A liveried footman bowed her into the house.

  ‘If madam would be pleased to wait in the drawing-room, his lordship will be with you directly.’

  With her hands tucked inside her swansdown muff, Lady Wyckenham followed the servant into a brightly lit apartment, richly decorated in red and gold. A good fire blazed in the hearth but although she felt a little faint, she did not unbutton her tight-fitting jacket, nor did she put up her veil. She wandered restlessly about the room, looking up at the dark portraits that seemed to stare down haughtily at her from the walls.

  ‘You are admiring my ancestors.’

  She jumped.

  ‘I did not hear you come in.’ She fought down her nerves as she turned to greet the Marquis of Ullenwood. ‘My lord.’

  He bowed, the light glistening on the silver streaks in his dark hair.

  ‘My lady. I did not expect such a prompt response to my letter.’

  She shrugged.

  ‘You wished to talk to me. I am here.’

  ‘Will you not sit down?’

  ‘No.’ The word was out before she knew it, and Lady Wyckenham cursed her nerves. ‘Ah.’ Lord Ullenwood smiled. Or, she temporized, his lips curled but there was no warmth in those dark eyes, no hint of gentleness. He continued, ‘Very well, madam, let us get to the point. I would trade with you.’

  She gave him a scornful glance.

  ‘There is nothing to trade.’

  ‘Oh but there is,’ he said softly. ‘We both know that I have certain … letters, written in your own fair hand.’

  She paled.

  ‘I thought you had destroyed them.’

  The marquis spread his hands.

  ‘You asked it of me, I know, but I could not bring myself to do so. They were such touching letters, you see.’

  ‘I was very unhappy at the time.’

  ‘I am aware – you sought solace in my arms, did you not?’

  ‘Elliot, I trusted you. I thought you were my friend.’

  ‘Friendship is such a fragile thing, Helen. When you spurned me—’

  ‘I found I could not love you and I told you so: it was not meant cruelly.’

  ‘Your passion cooled,’ he said. ‘Mine has never died.’

  ‘Then I am sorry for it, but there is nothing I can do.’

  ‘Oh but there is.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Elliot, it is over. When Wyckenham died I was distraught; I turned to you for comfort, but that was a mistake.’

  ‘I cannot allow that.’

  ‘So what would you have me do?’

  ‘Come back to me, Helen.’

  ‘I cannot. I do not love you.’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘Surely that would make me a wretched mistress?’

  The marquis walked towards her.

  ‘I would have you on any terms. Helen—’

  As he reached for her, she retreated behind a chair.

  ‘Stay away, my lord. I have told you I am not for you.’

  ‘You might change your mind.’

  ‘Because of the letters?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I think not.’ She pulled one hand free from her muff, her fingers gripping a small silver pistol. ‘You will give me the letters. Do not laugh at me: I will not allow you to coerce me.’

  He looked down at the pistol in her hand.

  ‘What do you propose to do?’

  ‘I will shoot you if you do not give me the letters. I am quite serious, my lord.’

  ‘Then we have reached an impasse, for I do not have them.’

  ‘You lie!’

  He spread his hands.

  ‘I mean they are not in this house. They are safely locked in a bank vault, my dear.’ Again that hateful smile. ‘So, shoot me if you must, Helen, but it will not get you the letters. Are you sure you will not sit down?’

  Helen was not listening.

  ‘You must have them. I could shoot you and search the house.’

  Lord Ullenwood looked apologetic.

  ‘Ah – there is the little matter of my servants. I do not think they would allow you to do that.’

  Her shoulders drooped: she gave a sigh and replaced the pistol inside her muff.

  ‘Oh do what you will! I was a widow when I wrote to you: it may cause a scandal for a week, but I have endured worse.’

  She went to the door.

  ‘And what of the children?’ She stopped. ‘Your stepchildren, madam. How do you think they will like having the family name bandied about the clubs? Your letters were very detailed, my love. And these young people, they are not so broad-minded as we were in our day, eh?’

  She turned towards him, the colour draining from her cheeks.

  ‘You would not.’

  He stared at her, and she felt as if his eyes bored right through the heavy veil.

  ‘Oh, I would,’ he said softly.

  ‘To publish those letters would be the actions of a scoundrel.’

  ‘No, no, you w
rong me: it would be the actions of a man very much in love.’

  ‘Fustian! This is no way to gain my regard.’

  ‘Perhaps not, but if it is the only way I can have you—’

  Lady Wyckenham regarded him for a moment. She said quietly, ‘Very well. What must I do to have you return my letters?’

  In the darkness of Lady’s Gaunt’s carriage, Clarissa wondered if she should tell Dorothea of her worries. Mama-Nell had told her it was nothing: perhaps she should believe her. Clarissa decided to keep her own counsel, at least for the present.

  They collected Lady Sarah from Dover Street and arrived at Norwell House some thirty minutes before ten o’clock. A nervous lady’s maid admitted them to the house and Julia informed them that she had sent the other servants to the servants wing.

  ‘I let it be known I have the headache and need silence – they have all retired for the present: Barnabus and his mama and sister will not be returning until midnight.’

  ‘Well we shall be done by then, my dear, so you need not look so anxious.’ Lady Gaunt put down the large portmanteau she had brought in and took off her cloak. ‘Send your maid away, Julia, and let us prepare.’

  The clock in the stable tower struck ten and the ladies were gathered in one of the upstairs rooms at the front of the house. As the last chime died away there could be heard the clip-clop of hoofs on the drive. Lady Gaunt nodded.

  ‘Show yourself, Julia. We must make sure Sir Howard knows you are here.’

  Obediently Julia picked up a branched candlestick and moved towards the window.

  ‘It is he,’ she gasped, her voice scarcely above a whisper.

  ‘Good,’ said Lady Gaunt. ‘Can you manage a smile, and perhaps a wave?’

  Julia leaned forward, then jumped back with a little cry.

  ‘Oh – he has seen me!’

  Clarissa heard Dorothea suppress a sigh of irritation.

  ‘Well, that is just what we want, my dear. You may relax now, Julia. You have done your part. Now I must play my role as your maid.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN