Regency Romances for the Ages

by Grace Fletcher

  “What’s wrong with her?” her sister called back, “An attack?”

  “Aye!”

  “Maybe then you should stay with her,” replied Laura in a snide tone, “Not like you’ll have anyone wanting to dance with you any way.”

  “Hag,” muttered Eleanor to herself as she went red with anger and marched back to her chambers. She was angrier at the fact that she hadn’t been able to reply to her sister’s snide comment as Hermia might have. She hastily got ready and went downstairs to leave for the ball just as the carriage that they had called rolled into view outside their door.

  The ride to the ball was mostly silent for her as her sisters complimented each other on how the each of them looked. Only Anne had told her how her dress really suited her but for most part of the trip, she had been conveniently ignored. Anne had tried to include her in the conversation numerous times until the conversation had shifted to their performance that night, about which Eleanor had nothing to say.

  In fact, she preferred the silence as it allowed her to think and continue her fantasy of meeting some tall, handsome gentleman who would sweep her off her feet at the ball and then come to her in the darkness of the night and kiss her on her balcony. He would confess to loving her more than the night loves the stars and they would get married on a beautiful cliff in Wales. He would take her off to a huge castle in the countryside where they would live out the rest of their days. And she would only invite Anne and her parents to her castle. That would show Henrietta and Laura.

  Smiling to herself about her childish fantasy, she looked out their carriage as it slowed down, gradually coming to a stop. There were carriages ahead of them and behind them with the road bright with tinted light. Couples walked past their carriage, laughing and smiling together. The men were dressed elegantly in long coats, top hats and leather shoes. The women were wearing flowing gowns, much like theirs with their hair tied up in complicated styles and their feet in small, satin shoes. They moved with a lithe grace, confidence radiating off them. They looked beautiful, and they knew it.

  “Off now, girls!” called Laura before stepping out of the carriage and right in the pathway of a highborn looking couple that almost ran into her.

  “Uff!” huffed the woman in a posh tone, looking at Henrietta with a sort of fury in her eyes, “I must say, a truly unrefined way for a lady to step off a carriage.”

  “And how would ye get off yer carriage, miss fancy pants?” asked Laura, stammering as she went red as a tomato around her ears at being insulted in such a way.

  “Yer?” repeated the woman snidely, looking towards the man that accompanied her. After a moment of silence, the two of them burst into laughter, making Laura go even redder around the ears. Eleanor knew this as a sign of absolute rage and braced herself for an onslaught of aggression from her elder sister.

  “Oye, hold up,” said Anne, stepping as she jumped off the carriage herself, stumbling a bit in the process, “Stop, will you? No need to get all rude.”

  “I’m not being rude,” replied the woman, “I was just about to tell this dear here the best way to get off ‘yer’ carriage.”

  “Ye don’t have to be so snide about it,” replied Anne, frowning at her as she put a hand on Laura’s shoulder in an attempt to avoid a scene. The man and the woman chuckled slightly.

  “My apologies,” replied the woman with a sarcastic smile, “To get off one’s carriage, a Lady should wait for a male companion to come around and help her down by offering her an arm. In case you don’t have a male companion, your cab driver will have to do.”

  “Of course,” muttered Anne with a small, confident smile, “That sounds about right coming from someone like you.”

  “What do you mean?” asked the woman, frowning at Anne, as she was unsure of what to say. Even her male companion looked confused. She continued, “What do you mean someone like me?”

  “She means,” began Henrietta as she too descended from the carriage, albeit a bit lightly, “That you may need the help of a man for something as simple and trivial as getting off a carriage but we do not.”

  “Aye,” said Laura, smiling as well, “We do not wait on men. They wait on us. Unlike you, apparently.”

  “You watch what you’re saying,” replied the woman in a dangerous tone, “I am Lady Louisa Spence and I will not be mocked as such!”

  “And we are the Bryants,” replied Anne in a proud tone, “And we will not be mocked either.”

  “You're in way over your little North Yorkshire heads, girls,” muttered the woman in a dangerous tone before turning to her companion, “Come on then, James.”

  “Highborn hag,” muttered Henrietta as Lady Spencer walked away haughtily, “We showed her, didn’t we? Come on then. Let’s go inside.”

  Eleanor watched as her three sisters smiled at each other and headed off towards the doors of the ball, right behind Lady Spencer. She suddenly felt distinctly aware of the fact that she had been conveniently forgotten. She didn’t blame her sisters though. She had been rather silent in their recent confrontation, in fact, she had been too afraid to even take part in it. The woman’s titles and confidence scared her. Shaking her head, she slid to the edge of the carriage’s velvet covered seat and prepared to descend.

  “A hand, my Lady?” asked a hesitant cab driver standing to the side as he held out his hand for her.

  The man must have gotten off to serve the purpose of helping the four of them descend the carriage but Laura had been too quick to wait for him. He had probably seen the whole confrontation, which had left him even more nervous than she had felt. She looked at the man carefully as he stood there with his hand outstretched towards her and then down to the pavement a few inches below her. Sighing, she took the man’s hand and lightly jumped to the road.

  Chapter 5

  Music’s Charm

  B eaufort looked up at the ceiling of the hall as he slowly sipped some wine at the bar. The hall seemed to be glowing golden because of the huge chandelier hanging down from the center of the ceiling. Despite not particularly liking balls, he couldn’t help but appreciate the decoration and the atmosphere. He looked around the room, praying that he wouldn’t be called over by someone he knew. Finding no one who would lean towards engaging him in a conversation in his vicinity, he made to turn towards the bar, smiling in relief. His relief was rather short lived as he suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder.

  “You are a sight for sore eyes,” whispered Lady Louisa Spencer as she turned him around on his bar stool and kissed him once on each cheek, “I’m having the worst night up till now.”

  “The night has just begun,” replied Beaufort, raising an eyebrow, “Were you assaulted at the doors?”

  “Something like that, love,” replied Louisa in an annoyed drawl, “But before I recount my tale, I need a drink.”

  “That bad?” he asked as he signaled the bartender who immediately rushed over. He turned to him and said, “A sorbet for the lady, and keep the rum light.”

  “Just the way I like it,” said Louisa, winking at him, “Thank you, Beaufort.”

  “My pleasure,” he replied, tipping an imaginary top hat towards her, “And may I say, you look rather fetching tonight.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, curtseying slightly, “My evening seems to be getting a much better because of you.”

  “You have yet to tell me what made it so bad,” commented Beaufort as the bartender handed her the sorbet that he had ordered for her.

  “I ran into that dreadful lot of sisters who just moved into the Mayfair house,” muttered Louisa with distaste, “Oh, how unrefined they are!”

  “Are they now?” asked Beaufort, smiling slightly.

  “Worse than anyone I have had the displeasure to meet,” she replied, “One of them nearly fell on me while jumping off a carriage!”

  “Truly?” he replied, holding back laughter. Louisa had told him of the girl’s actions as if she was citing a crime as bad as murder.

  “And t
he way they talk, Beaufort,” gasped his friend, “’Ye’ wouldn’t be able to hold in ‘yer’ surprise and laughter. Oafs, the lot of them.”

  “Hmm,” he replied, hoping that Louisa would drop the topic as he turned his eyes to the doors of the brightly lit hall.

  He raised an eyebrow as he saw the doors open and three young women step inside. They all wore flowing gowns of different colors, each with a distinct design of corset, but they were all beautiful, tall and graceful. The tallest one at the front wore a dress of bright gold, had long flowing hair and carried a harp at her side; the second wore a rather dark shade of pink and had a flute in her hands; the last one to enter carried a fiddle, was lean and tall, and had the body of a Greek goddess. Beaufort soon realized he wasn’t the only one whose attention the women had captured with almost everyone turning around to look their way.

  “Oh heavens,” muttered Louisa next to him in an exceptionally tragic tone, “That’s them; the oafs. God forbid that we have such people in our company now.”

  “Them?” asked Beaufort, incredulous, “They look to be rather normal, my dear Louisa, don’t they?”

  “Perhaps,” she muttered grudgingly, “But they’re monsters, the lot of them. But look; they do not seem to be guests, but musicians. One of them is carrying a fiddle.”

  “But they’re dressed for a ball, Louisa,” replied Beaufort, rolling his eyes at his friend’s lack of good judgement, “They’re indeed guests who might be musically inclined.”

  “Perhaps,” she replied uncertainly, “We might find out in due time.”

  “Or we could ask,” replied Beaufort, winking at her before taking her by the arm and leading her towards the doors of the hall where the three sisters stood.

  “Beaufort, no!” exclaimed Louisa, “I do not wish to socialize with those brutes! And you shouldn’t look towards it either!”

  “Oh, come now, Louisa,” replied Beaufort who had eyes for only the woman in the flowing gold gown, “Surely you’re not that vindictive.”

  “Surely not!” she retorted just as the two of them walked up to the three women.

  “Good evening, ladies,” greeted Beaufort as he grabbed the golden one’s hand and planted a kiss on her gloved hand, “I am Duke Richard Wellesley of Beaufort, at your service.”

  “And my name is Henrietta Bryant,” replied the girl in a slightly crude Northern accent, blushing as she did, “From North Yorkshire.

  “Ah,” replied Beaufort, catching on quickly, “You ladies are the ones who recently moved to London. Is your father not the industrialist who has flour mills to the North?”

  “That’s us,” replied Henrietta with a smile, “Ye seem to be well informed.”

  “Talk with some respect, you insolent little girl,” snapped Louisa, “You’re addressing a duke! The least you can do is add ‘your grace’ at the end of your speech.”

  “Now, now, Louisa,” said Beaufort with a small smile as he placed a hand on his friend’s arm, “They’re new to the customs of our city and society. Give them time.”

  “Sure,” muttered Louisa before looking away.

  “I understand you girls had quite a run in with Lady Spencer here outside?” asked Beaufort with a small smile.

  “Aye, the Lady had some lessons to teach us so we taught her some back,” replied Henrietta, returning his smile before adding a tentative, “Your grace” to her sentence.

  “Well I do wish it worked like that here in London,” replied Beaufort with a small, forced chuckle, “Some of the people here do need to be taught lessons. But alas, social standing plays a crucial role, girls. You might find it hard to fit in if this continues.”

  “But,“… began Henrietta before he silenced her with a raised hand.

  “Just some advice, Henrietta,” said the duke with a smile, “No conflict here and no lesson to be learned.”

  “Aye, your grace,” she replied, nodding her head before looking around and hesitantly giving him a small curtsey.

  “Judging from your natural flair at speaking for the masses, I assume you’re the eldest and these two are your younger sisters?” he asked jokingly, gesturing to the other two girls who had stood silent throughout their conversation.

  “Aye, I am the eldest,” replied Henrietta with a small chuckle before turning to her sisters and pointing them out as she introduced her, “And this is Laura and Anne, my younger sisters.”

  “Pleasure to meet you,” muttered Beaufort, giving quick bows to each girl who curtseyed in return.

  “Pleasure’s all ours, your grace,” replied the one called Laura.

  “So you ladies seem to be musically inclined?” asked Beaufort, growingly unimpressed by the girls’ rote learned courtesy.

  “Aye,” replied Henrietta with a quick nod, “We’ve been asked to play at this ball as well by the hostess herself.”

  “Lady Aldrich?” he asked, smiling, “She is somewhat of a fan of music, yes.”

  “She’s a neighbor,” added Anne.

  “Of course,” he replied just as another girl dressed in a blue gown rushed forward, almost running into Anne in the process. Beaufort suddenly felt annoyed at the girl’s sudden presence. What was worse was that she looked away from him, clutching Anne’s arm and whispering in her ear, “Excuse me, but you seem to be interrupting a decent conversation, my Lady.”

  “Our apologies, your grace,” said Anne hastily, “This is our rather shy youngest sister, Eleanor Bryant.”

  It was then that the girl looked at him tentatively and with a jolt, he realized that it was the same girl who had caught his attention as she stood leaning out her window when he walked by her house. He had been awestruck at the simplistic beauty of the girl who had nothing special to her name, unlike her sisters, but still was intriguing beyond measure. Ever since he had first seen her, he had been left awestruck and eager to see her again. Now here she was, the girl who had been on his mind ever since he had first seen her.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Eleanor Bryant,” said Beaufort in his most charming voice as he gave her a bow as well, “I am Duke Wellesley.”

  “Pleasure, your grace,” replied the girl with a curtsey, much more refined than her sisters’. Beaufort smiled at the comparison.

  “I see no instrument on you, Eleanor,” noticed Beaufort, “What will you be playing for us tonight?”

  “Eleanor doesn’t play,” said Anne quickly as her two other sisters smiled in a condescending manner. Eleanor blushed before looking away from him as she obviously felt insulted.

  “That’s okay,” he said, smiling, “Not everyone has a desire to learn music. Eleanor can enjoy in the audience.”

  “Surely,” replied Anne with a smile just as an elegantly dressed lady walked by, carrying a basket full of programs for the night. They all took one and hastily ran their eyes over it.

  “Seems as if your performance is before the dance,” said Beaufort, looking down at the small, decorated piece of parchment in his hand.

  “Aye,” replied Henrietta, “But what are these empty spaces around here?”

  “That’s where men like me will put their names down to schedule a dance, my dear,” replied Beaufort as Louisa scoffed.

  “Have you never been to a ball, girl?” she asked, smiling smugly at her.

  “Where we come from, the men just ask instead of writing down their names,” explained Anne, addressing Beaufort as she chose to ignore Louisa and her taunts.

  “Interesting,” muttered Beaufort before turning to Eleanor, “You may want to step aside, then, Eleanor. Your sisters will have to prepare for their performance.”

  “Of course,” replied Eleanor in a small voice before darting off towards the bar in the corner of the hall, muttering something about a glass of water.

  “My apologies for her behavior,” said Anne sheepishly, “She be rather shy.”

  “I can see that,” he replied, “Head on over to the stage now.”

  Beaufort and Louisa stood there while the three sisters
nodded and headed off towards the stage. He watched them go until he turned towards the bar to look for Eleanor, the girl who intrigued him beyond measure. Even though she had remained rather silent through the conversation, Beaufort knew that she had a desire to prove herself and stand out. He could feel her determination; in fact, she reminded him of his own younger self when he lacked confidence as well. Shaking his head to rid himself of his thoughts, he smiled as his eyes fell on Eleanor. She stood a bit to the left of the bar, sipping a delicate glass filled with water.

  “Oafs, the lot of them,” muttered Louisa from next to him whose attention was still on the three musicians as she eyed them getting on a makeshift stage.

  “Perhaps,” he replied, not taking his eyes off Eleanor.

  “You know how this new money lot can get,” she said distastefully.

  “I know,” he replied, finally looking away from her, “Towards the stage, shall we?”

  Chapter 6

  Little But

  She is Fierce

  E leanor took a few deep breaths as she looked around the hall, sipping her water slowly. Her sisters’ attentions were mostly towards the performance at hand and the tall, handsome gentlemen like the duke. But she knew to be observant and could very easily see the distaste that the posh London crowd had towards her and her family. They didn’t consider them to be of London material and looked down upon them. She had experienced this numerous times since they had come to Mayfair but this was the first time in such a substantial number.

  To start with, Lady Louisa was one who would never stop talking about her and her family to everyone she met after the events of the night. The people here loved to gossip, especially the so-called ladies. Within hours, all of London would know of the unrefined North Yorkshire girls who had no manners or etiquette to speak of and wouldn’t change for the better no matter what. Very soon, they would be shunned by this posh society that they so wished to be a part of. Rather, what her family wished to be a part of. It was her utmost desire to retire to her small modest home in the North where the countryside always smelled of flowers, pollen and burning coal; an odd combination, but something that smelled like home.