Regency Rumours/A Scandalous Mistress/Dishonour And Desire

by Juliet Landon

  ‘I don’t mind at all, but why the sudden departure? Has there been some kind of crisis? Your parents?’

  ‘No, not that. But there is an urgent matter that’s cropped up quite suddenly. He asks me to say that he hopes you will not be too inconvenienced by it, though of course I shall be at your disposal to escort you where you will. He doesn’t know how long he’ll be gone. Meanwhile, if there’s any way in which I can be of service to you and Miss Chester, I shall be more than happy to oblige.’

  Far from being mollified by this insipid and vague excuse, Amelie was not inclined to salve his conscience by accepting Lord Rayne’s offer, though she had no doubt it was kindly made. Doesn’t know how long he’ll be gone, indeed. Urgent matter he has to attend to. Poppycock!

  ‘You are too kind,’ she said with a marked chill that Lord Rayne had heard before. ‘You have both done far more for two complete strangers than either of us had ever expected or deserved, and we are extremely grateful to you. Caterina has already begun to make a good impression, for which she has you and Lord Elyot to thank, and we must therefore not trespass on your time any longer. You have been the kindest and most tolerant of escorts. It must have put your own plans sadly out, at times.’

  There was some smoothing of feathers to be done here, for the frosty inflections of her voice had all been noted. Leaning towards her, he saw the pain amongst the icicles in her eyes and thought that, although his brother’s handling of women was usually faultless, this time he might have made an error of timing for such a sensitive creature as this. And he, Seton, would not like to predict the days ahead. ‘It was not done out of kindness, my lady,’ he said, softly. ‘My brother and I have never spent a more enjoyable month in anyone’s company, believe me. But Nick cannot always explain what his business involves since he is bound by royal command not to say more than is absolutely necessary. Even I don’t know what my father wants of him. All I can say is that both my parents will return with him and that he is looking forward to introducing you to them.’

  Naturally, he had expected this pronouncement to interest her, so the frown that passed like a shadow across her forehead caused him to ask, ‘The prospect does not please you, m’lady?’

  ‘Oh, yes … er, yes, indeed. That will be … er … something to which we shall look forward with, er … I’ve heard so much about them.’

  ‘As they will be hearing about you at this very moment, I dare say. And Miss Chester, too. I believe she’s having her singing lesson.’

  ‘Yes. Did you hope to take her driving?’

  ‘Not exactly. I came to deliver my brother’s message and to offer my services.’ Again, he admired the graceful curve of her neck as her head bent forward to watch her fidgeting fingers. ‘An errand, perhaps?’ he teased. Then, looking across her work table at his side, he espied a pile of paintings resting on a large piece of brown paper. ‘Who frames your paintings?’ he said. ‘Someone in Richmond? Mr Pallisy is very good, I hear. A Huguenot family. Been here forever.’

  ‘Yes, he’s done very well for me. Those are waiting to go to him.’ She indicated the paintings with a nod of her head, wishing above all things that it was Lord Elyot who sat there instead of his charming brother and that she had not been told of their parents’ imminent return to Richmond.

  ‘Then, if you will allow it, I shall take them to him on my way home. I shall be passing his shop. He knows what you require, does he?’

  ‘Oh, yes, he knows what to do with them, thank you.’

  He folded the brown paper neatly around them and tucked the package beneath his arm. ‘I am glad to be of some use, my lady. I came in the phaeton, so they’ll be quite safe.’

  ‘Thank you again. It was kind of you to come. Give us a few days’ grace, if you will. Caterina is still …’

  ‘A little upset? Yes, that’s quite understandable.’ He moved towards the door, clearly debating whether to say more on the topic. ‘I think you should know,’ he said, ‘that Mr Elwick has sent young Tam away for a while. Oh, don’t be alarmed. It’s not banishment. Hannah has gone with him for a few weeks until things settle down. It’s for the best, I’m sure you’ll agree.’

  ‘A few weeks? And then what?’

  ‘Well, then his father may have long-term plans for him. We shall have to wait and see.’ He smiled, looking very unlike the angry man who had knocked his brother-in-law down two days ago.

  ‘Yes,’ said Amelie, thinking not so much of Tam and Hannah speeding away in a coach to some unknown destination, but of Lord Rayne’s smile, which was so like his brother’s that her breath was caught on a sob. Now she did not know how long it would be before she saw it again or to whom it would have been given by then. ‘As you say, we shall have to wait and see. Good day to you, my lord. Mr Killigrew will show you out.’ She dipped a curtsy and watched the way he seemed to flow like liquid down the stairs, disappearing round the corner.

  She waited, hoping to catch another sound of Caterina’s voice, but all was quiet. Before she could turn away, the door of the morning room was held open by the singing teacher for his pupil, who had been standing by the window, her face clouded by melancholy.

  ‘Ees all right,’ said Signor Cantoni to Amelie. ‘Ees all right, we all ‘ave emozione …’ he pressed a hand to his heart with an indulgent smile at Caterina ‘… but we cannot make good sound when we ‘ave weeping. Then we do—’ and here he squeaked a note so flat that even Caterina broke into a pained laugh. ‘They will not mix. Another day, when the weeping has gone. Yes? Then we will be brillante.’ His expressive hand opened like a mouth, while his counter-tenor top note hit the high plasterwork ceiling.

  ‘Yes,’ Caterina whispered. ‘Thank you, Signor Cantoni.’

  ‘Ees good,’ he said, nodding. His affable expression and swarthy skin fell back into deep folds as if it was a size too large for him, and dark oiled hair swept off his forehead in a thick cap that poured over the back of his collar. Thirtyish and hardly taller than Caterina, his deep dark eyes were alight with vitality, his attractive mouth mobile like his hands, moulding and shaping each word as if he could feel it between his fingers. ‘But,’ he said, dropping his voice, ‘Meez Chester says that we are not to ‘ave the pleasure of Signor Rauzzini’s visit on Sunday. Now that is so tragic, my dear lady. So unfortunate.’ He hugged a pile of music sheets to his waistcoat and fixed sorrowful eyes upon Amelie, hoping for an instant solution.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s true, signor,’ Amelie said. ‘I don’t know what else we can do except to wait for his return. Bath is such a long way away.’ As soon as the words were out, a small door opened at the back of her mind, showing her a way through the labyrinth of her problems. She hardly heard Signor Cantoni’s gentlemanly argument.

  ‘From Richmond?’ He swung his head like a metronome, ticking off the mileage. ‘Not the end of the world, surely? The maestro organises the concerts there, you know, so I expect his musicians are missing him. Ah, well, you and I, Meez Chester, will ‘ave to wait upon his return and keep on improving. Bon giorno, my lady. Meez Chester.’

  ‘Thank you, signor. Bon giorno.’

  With a bow, he, too, disappeared down the staircase, leaving Amelie and Caterina standing where he had left them, waiting to hear the click of the front door while their eyes linked, holding an idea between them.

  Amelie could not ignore her niece’s anguish. ‘You saw him leaving?’ she said.

  Caterina nodded, knowing to whom she referred. ‘Didn’t he want to wait?’ she said.

  ‘He had some business to attend to. It wasn’t exactly a social call. He’ll be back. Don’t look like that, dearest. He heard your singing, and he did ask about you.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Really. Anyone could see by last night at Lady Sergeant’s that he didn’t seek my company, and I’m not going to ruin my singing voice by weeping about it. Did he mention Tam?’

  ‘Tam and Hannah have gone away for a time.’

  ‘Hannah too? How ridiculous. Everybody is leaving
.’

  Amelie took Caterina’s hand and gave it a gentle tug. ‘Come with me in here,’ she said. ‘Perhaps it’s time we thought about leaving too, then. And Bath isn’t the end of the world, is it?’

  Only three days later Lady Chester, her niece and their two maids descended upon the spa of Bath in the county of Somerset, their housekeeper, butler and cook having preceded them with most of their luggage the day before. Taking the journey in easy stages, they had rested overnight at the Castle Inn, Marlborough, coming into Bath in the early afternoon with the sun still washing the honey-coloured stone of Lansdown Crescent with warm light. Amelie had almost forgotten what a beautiful place it was.

  Situated high above the town on the green northern slopes where white dumpling sheep dotted the fields, Amelie’s elegant four-storied house had been given to her by Sir Josiah as a wedding present where she could entertain during the season. She had not visited it for several years, but had rented it out to friends who vacated it only two weeks ago, and now it offered a retreat from ever-worsening problems.

  Indeed, the problems had grown so alarmingly that what had at first seemed like a satisfactory solution to Caterina’s disappointments became a full-scale escape for Amelie herself once it was known that Ruben Hurst’s insinuating letter had fallen into the wrong hands. After an hour or so of frantic searching and an abortive visit to the picture framer, the letter had at last been returned to Paradise Road by a servant from Sheen Court, sealed within a paper cover, but with no note to reassure Amelie that it had not been read, no regret for her inconvenience, and no intentions of calling on her, either.

  The only conclusion to be drawn was that Lord Rayne had read it, and that it would only be a matter of time before his brother was made aware of Hurst’s insistence. The question was then whether Lord Elyot would believe, after all, that Hurst was her lover. Would he bring their engagement to an abrupt end, too soon? Or had it already begun to falter after the appearance of his old paramours and Amelie’s furious reaction?

  She did not, as she had at first intended, send Hurst any money, for though he could not be prevented from making mischief, he would find it more difficult to communicate with her for a time. As would Lord Elyot and his parents. Especially the parents.

  For the rest of that first day at Lansdown Crescent it looked as if Caterina’s despondency might be lifting at last as she flitted from room to room, admiring the pretty flocked wallpaper, the tasteful colours, the matching curtains and pale carpets, the camlet and calimanco bed hangings. Her own room was on the third floor next to her aunt’s, a delightfully pretty place with a canopied bed, gilded mirrors and a dressing room with a fitted washstand and water-closet. From her window, she could view the long garden that led away to the stables and coach-house, then the road at the back bordered by trees and the green of Lansdown Hill.

  The views from the south-facing front windows across the whole of Bath quite took her breath away, however. ‘Down there,’ said Amelie, pointing through the smoke haze, ‘is the abbey tower with the Roman bath and the Pump Room beside it. See?’

  ‘And the Assembly Rooms?’ said Caterina.

  ‘About ten minutes’ walk down the hill. We’ll call in tomorrow to find out what’s on, and we’ll find out where Signor Rauzzini lives and leave a card. Shall we go and inspect the piano? It’s sure to need tuning again.’

  ‘What does one do all day in Bath?’

  Amelie smiled, recalling how she had asked the same question, once. ‘One dresses up in one’s finest gowns,’ she said, slipping an arm through Caterina’s, ‘and then one goes out to see who’s better dressed, and why. We go down to the Pump Room in the mornings straight after breakfast to see who’s there and where they’re staying, and tomorrow we must write ourselves into the book of intelligence so that others know we’re here. Things are not nearly so formal here as they are at home, my dear.’

  That same night, as Amelie looked out over the darkened town with a crescent of lamps burning below her on each of the wrought-iron arches, her worries were brought out for an airing after being closeted in her mind all day long. She had not shared with Caterina the other more formidable reasons for being here in Bath, nor why she longed for her lover to come and find her and demand her return, nor why she believed her flight could be the beginning of the end. So soon. After only a matter of weeks.

  These last few days ought to have produced her courses, yet so far there had been no sign of the one thing she had always been able to depend on. Not even the closest examination, or wishing, or recalculating of dates had made any difference to the disturbing verdict.

  Behind her had been years of yearning, envy and unfulfilment when symptoms such as this would have been both miraculous and welcome. Now, she did not know what to feel except, perhaps, a sense of wonder that she might bear a child to the man she wanted more than any other, the man of whom she was unsure, and who was unsure of her. She could stay here in Bath and bear a summer babe, pretending to her Richmond neighbours that it was a fosterling rescued from a poor woman in need. No one would be too surprised by that. But how could she continue to live in Richmond when her child’s father lived there too? She would have to move. Caterina would not, after all, find her aunt a good example to follow, and Stephen, her father, would wonder which of them needed a chaperon most. He would take his daughter back to Buxton and she, Amelie, would lose his friendship. The repercussions rippled ever wider into the darkness, unanswered and unanswerable.

  Yesterday, the coaching inns on the road to Bath had been brisk with travellers, for the town season was just beginning and soon lodgings would be hard to find for those hoping to drink the medicinal spa waters, or to bathe in them, or to contact old friends. Caterina was convinced there would be no one of her age in Bath, only dowagers, invalids, and middle-aged hopefuls on the marriage-mart.

  The walk down the hill into the bustling noisy crowds did not at first reassure her as they swerved to avoid horses and sedan chairs, Bath chairs and walking sticks. But the shop windows along Milsom Street delayed and delighted them, acquaintances hailed them with waving hats, and by the time they had reached the colonnade leading to the abbey churchyard, several young blades had eyed them boldly, to Caterina’s great satisfaction.

  Standing solidly next to the great medieval abbey was the Pump Room, even at that early hour alive with visitors as eager as Amelie to contact friends both old and new. A wave of sound enveloped them as they entered the large sunny room through which the musicians strove to be heard, and a sea of white muslin and pink faces surged gently upon a tide of feathered and beribboned bonnets and the darker flotsam of men’s coats.

  Amelie need not have been too concerned about her long absence, for within minutes it was as if she had never been away, greeting and being greeted by the Ellisons, the Cranleighs, Sir Monty and Lady Mountford, Mr Grace and the usually elusive Lady Nelson, whose admiral husband had deserted her years ago.

  Dutifully, Caterina curtsied and smiled, taking pleasure from the interest generated by her aunt and herself, by the admiration of her pale blue velvet spencer over the white spotted day dress. The veil of her matching jockey bonnet fell almost to the floor, thanks to Millie’s suggestion. Her wardrobe had matured by several years in a matter of weeks, promoting a more graceful posture and a lessening of the embarrassed giggles to which she had once been prone. And though she lowered her eyes demurely, this did not prevent her from taking stock of any contemporaries who might be doing the same.

  As if wishing might make it happen, she searched also for the impeccably handsome form and broad shoulders of Lord Rayne, who might by some miracle have flown along the Bath road in his curricle to be with her. But there was no one in the stuffy Pump Room who came even close to his perfection, and Aunt Amelie was taking her hand, urged by friends to enter their names in the book over by the window.

  Just as important was to scan the most recent pages to see who had arrived. Amelie’s gloved finger followed the names down,
sliding sideways to see where people were staying this year. Then came, ‘Good heavens! It cannot be!’

  ‘Who is it, Aunt?’

  ‘It’s Dorna. Look … here!’ Decisively, her finger flattened the page.

  Caterina bent to look, reading out loud. ‘Lady Adorna Elwick and family, Mr Tam Elwick, Miss Hannah Elwick. Four Sydney Place. Oh, my goodness. When did they arrive?’

  ‘Yesterday, as we did,’ said Amelie. Lowering her voice, she tried to prevent the overtones of crossness. ‘No matter. You don’t have to meet him if you’d rather not, dear. Though I must say—’ She entered their names and place of abode in the book, checking her tongue. Now he’s going to think I brought Caterina here just to defy him. Why could Dorna not have taken him to Worthing or … or Hastings, even? Does it matter what he thinks?

  ‘But I do want to see Tam, Aunt Amelie. Heavens, with three chaperons I can hardly run into much danger, can I? Anyway, Tam’s all right. He’ll be as glad to find a friend in this place as I am, I expect.’

  In that assumption, however, she was only partly correct, for when she saw Tam, he appeared to be not in the least forlorn or friendless.

  It was only an hour later when they took out a month’s subscription to Meyler’s Library adjoining the Pump Room that a wander along the bookshelves brought them face to face with Hannah, whose unfeigned delight convinced them of a welcome at Sydney Place.

  ‘Dorna will be so pleased you’re here,’ she said, wistfully. ‘She had to come without Chad, you see. Business, I believe. And she’s missing him so terribly, poor dear.’

  Without questioning Hannah’s well-intentioned opinion about the gregarious Dorna missing her listless husband, Amelie felt bound to wonder how much persuasion had been needed to prise her away from him to join the Bath ton at the beginning of the season. ‘Then we must join forces for a stroll, now and again,’ she said, not wishing to take Dorna’s pleasure for granted. ‘Where is Lady Dorna? And is your brother here too?’