The Unaccomplished Lady Eleanor

by Wendy Burdess

  ‘Of course,’ said Lady Ormiston, before roaring, ‘Stevens! Have the carriage brought out later for Lady Madeleine.’

  The timid footman bowed his consent and retreated hastily. Eleanor flashed him a sympathetic look. The man looked as though he was living on his wits. Hardly surprising with the dowager continually bellowing orders at him. Eleanor had a good idea how he felt. She was finding it difficult keeping her own nerves in check with the incessant stream of commands, criticisms and chastizings from the woman. Lady Madeleine, on the other hand, appeared to have a similar effect on the dowager as her nephew. The Hungarian could do no wrong where the old lady was concerned. Perhaps that was because, contemplated Eleanor, unlike herself, no one could ever accuse Lady Madeleine of being ‘unbecoming’.

  ‘Madeleine, have you met Eleanor’s dancing master, M. Aminieux? He is one of the best in all of London,’ said the dowager.

  ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir,’ smiled Lady Madeleine, in her usual charming manner.

  ‘How delightful,’ he beamed, evidently falling instantly under the woman’s bewitching spell. ‘May I ask where you are from, madame?’

  ‘I am from Hungary, monsieur.’

  Monsieur Aminieux clapped his hands together in amazement. ‘But this is fantastic,’ he enthused. ‘Madame Aminieux is from Hungary also, and she is rarely having the opportunity to speak to her compatriots. I wonder if I might be so bold, madame, as to ask if you might accompany me to my house one day to meet my wife? When it is convenient for you, of course.’

  At this suggestion, Lady Madeleine visibly balked. Indeed, for one brief moment, Eleanor thought the woman could not have looked more horrified if someone had asked her to walk barefoot through a pit of slugs.

  ‘Er thank you, monsieur,’ she said, rapidly rearranging her features into their usual perfect order, ‘that would be … delightful. Now if you will excuse me, I have a great many things to do before this afternoon.’

  ‘Of course, madame,’ beamed M. Aminieux. ‘I will be speaking to Madame Aminieux and we will be sending you the invitation.’

  ‘How very … kind,’ muttered Madeleine. She shot him a brief smile before whisking out of the room.

  While Eleanor’s dancing may have improved, her embroidery most definitely had not. Later that afternoon, the dowager picked up the reticule Eleanor was still embroidering with pearl daisies, and examined it carefully through her lorgnette.

  ‘Good gracious, girl, you were supposed to have this finished in time for the Carmichaels’ ball.’

  ‘Er, yes, I was, Godmother.’

  ‘And when, pray, is the ball, Eleanor?’

  ‘The evening of the morrow.’

  ‘And do you really think you can have it finished by then?’

  ‘Of course.’

  It was almost time for dinner when Madeleine returned to the castle. Eleanor experienced a pang of jealousy as she sat at her bedroom window, watching the Hungarian alight from the carriage. Being a widow, Madeleine was allowed much more freedom than herself, and she certainly appeared to be making the most of it. Eleanor, on the other hand, had endured several more hours embroidering ghastly daisies on to a ghastly bag with the ghastly dowager. How much longer, she wondered, would she have to stay here and endure this mindless boredom? If the only alternative was marriage, then she feared she could well be enduring mindless boredom for the remainder of her life.

  Eleanor was dreading Felicity Carmichael’s come out ball. Indeed the only positive she could glean from the event was that, as preparations had taken the best part of the day, she had missed both her dancing lesson and pianoforte practice - both with the dowager’s reluctant approval.

  Eventually, having placed the last diamond comb in her mistress’s hair, Milly stood back and gazed at Eleanor. Rather than her usual effusing, though, the girl appeared uncharacteristically lost for words.

  Panic began tickling Eleanor. What was so wrong that Milly couldn’t tell her? Then it dawned on her. She must look ridiculous. Yes, that was it. She looked utterly ridiculous and poor Milly had not the courage to tell her. She knew the gown was too low cut. She had told her godmother so the day they were at the mantua-maker in London. And she should never have given in to Milly’s insistence that she wear a little rouge. She must look completely absurd.

  ‘Don’t worry, Milly,’ she smiled. ‘I know I look ridiculous. I will inform my godmother immediately that I am not to attend the ball. I will tell her that I am feeling quite out of sorts.’

  Milly gasped loudly. ‘Are you meaning to say, miss, that I’ve spent all day getting you ready and now you’re not wanting to go?’

  ‘No, but I-’

  ‘And what’s this about looking ridiculous? I’ve never seen you looking more beautiful, miss,’ she said, her blue eyes brimming with tears. ‘Now come over and look in the mirror.’

  Eleanor did as she was bid, her eyes widening. Rather than her usual girlish features, the image that stared back at her was that of a beautiful, sophisticated young woman.

  Her gown, chosen by the dowager, and in which Eleanor had shown absolutely no interest until now, was a stunning creation in silver satin with a spider gauze overlay. The skirt artfully skimmed her slim hips, while the low cut bodice showed off her bosom perfectly. As usual, Milly had done a superb job with her hair, arranging it in a mass of loose curls, then clipping it to one side so that it tumbled softly over her left shoulder. The trace of rouge she had used merely added a subtle glow to her flawless complexion.

  ‘And don’t be forgetting your shoes, miss,’ instructed Milly, holding out a pair of kid slippers in exactly the same shade of silver as her dress. ‘Now all we need is your bag.’

  Eleanor cringed. ‘Oh no, Milly. I have to take that dreadful thing I have been embroidering myself and I still haven’t finished it.’

  Milly rolled her eyes. ‘Well you’d better hurry up, miss. You’re due to leave here in an hour.’

  Flying barefoot along the corridors and stairs to the drawing-room, Eleanor prayed that she would not encounter her godmother. The woman had been nagging her for weeks to complete the blasted reticule in time for the ball and, despite the dowager’s scepticism, Eleanor had assured her that it would be ready. She now had no wish to see the self-satisfied look on the dowager’s face, or to incur the woman’s wrath. Seeking out the sewing basket, she retrieved the reticule, a needle and thread and the box of white pearls and hastily began to sew.

  The eight chimes of the grandfather clock echoed around the enormous entrance hall as Eleanor tentatively made her way down the castle’s imposing stone staircase. Her godmother’s booming voice, competing admirably with the chimes of the clock, added to her apprehension. As she descended the stairs, she spotted the dowager talking animatedly to Lady Madeleine. She was wearing a hooped, old-fashioned gown in mauve, which made her appear twice as large. James, dressed all in black, stood a little way from the two women, looking deep in thought and, Eleanor reluctantly admitted, quite dashing. But it was Lady Madeleine’s gown that caused Eleanor’s eyes to widen. Everything about the exotic creation, from the daring front and back cut, to the almost sheer, clinging gold fabric, was verging on the outrageous. Yet, with her pile of white-blonde hair adorned with two curled feathers, there could be no disputing that the Hungarian looked stunning. Indeed, her ethereal beauty put Eleanor in mind of a Grecian goddess.

  ‘Ah, Eleanor. At last,’ puffed the dowager, as Eleanor walked across the hall towards them. ‘Now where is Mr Lovell?’

  All eyes turned to James. He appeared not to have heard the question. Instead, he was staring at Eleanor with the same strange expression on his face she had seen several times before. Eleanor came to a halt directly in front of him and gulped. Why was he staring at her like that? He was making her very uncomfortable. At a loss as to what to do, she stared at her feet. Still she could feel his eyes burning into her. Why didn’t he say something? Why didn’t he make one of his usual pathetic jibes? Did he thi
nk she looked ridiculous? If he did, she had little doubt he would voice his thoughts, after all, he had made no secret of his low opinion of her so far. Anyway, she remonstrated silently, why did she care what he thought? His worthless opinions did not matter one jot. She lifted her head defiantly and met his eyes. The intensity of his dark gaze sent a shiver flashing down her spine and caused her stomach to perform a rather strange somersault.

  ‘James!’ roared the dowager, breaking the moment and causing them all to start. ‘Where is Mr Lovell?’

  James shook himself out of his musings. ‘I, um, believe he is to meet us there, Aunt.’

  Lady Ormiston began striding towards the door. ‘Very well then,’ she boomed. ‘Now come along, Eleanor, or we shall be late and you know I cannot abide tardiness. It is a most unbecoming characteristic.’

  They took their seats in the plush bottle-green carriage, Eleanor and her godmother on one side, James and Madeleine on the other.

  ‘Well, I must say, Eleanor,’ announced the dowager, as the door of the carriage was closed. ‘You are in quite acceptable looks this evening. Indeed, I would go as far as to say that you look quite the thing. And, if I may say so, I made an excellent choice with that gown. Doesn’t make you look like a knitting needle at all. Would you not agree, Lady Madeleine?’

  ‘Oh, indeed I would,’ purred Madeleine. ‘Although I must confess that I thought silver was quite out of vogue this season.’

  ‘Hmph’ snorted the dowager dismissively. ‘Things are jumping in and out of vogue so quickly these days, one can hardly keep up with it all. Still, the girl looks a damned sight more presentable than she did a few weeks ago. If we’re lucky someone might show a bit of interest in her tonight and we might be a step nearer to getting her wed.’

  Madeleine regarded Eleanor through narrowed eyes. ‘Hmm. Perhaps if you are very lucky, ma’am.’

  Blood rushed to Eleanor’s cheeks. Did her godmother really have to talk about her so in front of James and Madeleine? She was completely mortified – a feeling that had not been helped by Madeleine’s scrutinizing looks and unconvinced response. The only thing for which she was grateful was that James appeared not to be listening to the conversation - completely lost in thought as he gazed out of the carriage window. Unfortunately for Eleanor, the other two occupants showed no such signs of becoming distracted.

  ‘What an interesting reticule you have with you, Lady Eleanor,’ announced Madeleine. ‘How … quaint to have decorated it with sheep.’

  ‘They are not sheep,’ corrected Eleanor. ‘They are daisies.’

  ‘Oh,’ smiled Madeleine condescendingly. ‘Of course they are, dear.’

  ‘Never mind what they are,’ piped up the dowager. ‘At least she got the deuced thing finished on time.’

  EIGHT

  Mayfair, that most fashionable area of London, was the location of the Carmichaels’ rented townhouse. By the time she alighted from the carriage, however, Eleanor was too incensed to notice her surroundings. During the journey, Madeleine had reeled off a list of criticisms regarding not only Eleanor’s reticule, but also her gown, her shoes, her hair and even her posture. And she had done so in such a cunning way, that it had been impossible for Eleanor to defend herself without appearing churlish and incurring the wrath of her godmother. But while Eleanor had sat seething, James had merely sat - staring silently out of the window. He had seemed oblivious to them all and had not uttered a single word.

  Evidently out to impress, the Carmichaels had rented what appeared to be the largest townhouse in London. Set higher than its neighbours, with a majestic set of steps leading to the main door, the building gave off a haughty superior air. Every one of its many windows was brightly illuminated and the main door was thrown wide open flooding the street below with a hub-bub of chatter, laughter and music.

  As soon as Eleanor set foot in the large black and white tiled entrance hall, it became apparent that the beautiful exterior of the property merely served as a teaser for the opulent delights within. Hundreds of candles blazed brightly and the open doors to all the rooms leading off the hall allowed arriving guests a first-class view into the magnificent ballroom. A large crowd was already gathered in the hall, every one of them dressed in unabashed splendour. Indeed, even Eleanor, who had little time for such frivolity, was amazed at the lavishness of the event. She had never seen so many beautiful gowns or glittering jewels: everywhere she looked her eye caught the shimmer of a diamond tiara, the wink of a sapphire necklace or the twinkle of a ruby ear-ring. Her seething anger quickly dissipated to be replaced by utter astonishment.

  ‘Eleanor! Close your mouth and stop gawping,’ ordered the dowager. Then, intent on her mission not to linger in the hall, she began brandishing her fan in the manner of a sword, rudely sweeping aside anyone in her path. An embarrassed Eleanor trotted obediently behind, offering the dowager’s stunned victims apologetic smiles along the way. Holding possessively on to James’s arm, Madeleine and her escort brought up the rear at a more leisurely pace: James, obviously having affected a more sociable air, stopping here and there to exchange pleasantries and to introduce the beautiful Hungarian to those he deemed worthy of her acquaintance. Eventually they reached the entrance to the ballroom where Lady Carmichael and Felicity were greeting their guests. From Lady Carmichael’s flushed cheeks, it appeared the woman was in something of a flurry. Felicity, on the other hand, despite sporting a hideous peach creation with far too much ruching on the bodice, appeared cool and composed. As her eyes met Eleanor’s, an icy shiver flashed down Eleanor’s spine.

  ‘Ah, Lady Ormiston and Eleanor. How delightful,’ gushed Lady Carmichael bobbing a curtsy. ‘I cannot tell you how excited we are that this day has finally arrived. And have you seen how many people are here, Lady Ormiston? I do believe the event will be the talk of the town for months to come.’

  ‘Indeed,’ sniffed the dowager. ‘You do seem to have gone to a great deal of effort, Cynthia.’

  ‘Well, nothing is too much effort for my little pumpkin,’ beamed Lady Carmichael, looking adoringly at Felicity. ‘Let us only hope that it leads to greater things, Lady Ormiston.’

  The dowager rolled her eyes.

  ‘Oh my goodness, is that James I see making his way over? How marvellous. We were so hoping he would be able to attend,’ gushed Lady Carmichael.

  All heads turned to James and Madeleine. A palpable ripple of excitement followed the couple, with Madeleine the cynosure of all eyes. It was not only her exquisite beauty and daring gown which were causing a stir, but also the fact that she was holding the arm of one of the most sought-after men in the whole of England, providing delicious fodder for the ever-hungry gossips. Observing Felicity’s features twist into an ominous expression as she absorbed the scene, Eleanor felt a rash of prickly goosebumps break out over her body.

  Lady Carmichael, too, appeared to be having problems disguising her sentiments. ‘Oh,’ she sniffed, her tone ripe with disappointment. ‘James has a … guest, I see.’

  ‘Indeed he does,’ replied the dowager matter-of-factly. ‘Lady Madeleine Bouvray is from Hungary. She is staying with us for the Season.’

  Lady Carmichael whipped open her fan and began fluttering frantically. ‘Ah, then she will not be staying in London long,’ she exclaimed on a breath of relief.

  Before anyone had a chance to reply, James and Madeleine joined the group.

  This time Eleanor watched James’s face carefully. She had little doubt that this would be the first occasion he, too, had set eyes on Felicity since the attempted blackmailing incident at the garden party. Would he, she wondered, feel as uncomfortable in the girl’s evil presence as she did?

  James, to her astonishment, appeared not the least bit perturbed. Indeed he appeared to have exchanged his previous surly, silent countenance and manner of only a few minutes ago, for one of perfect charm – all, Eleanor suspected, for the benefit of Felicity.

  ‘Ah, the ladies Carmichael,’ he beamed. ‘May I congratulate
you on such a splendid gathering.’ He bowed graciously. Felicity and her mother dipped a curtsy.

  ‘Thank you, James,’ tinkled Lady Carmichael, eyeing Madeleine suspiciously. ‘I see that you have brought a guest with you.’

  ‘Indeed I have,’ replied James silkily. ‘Allow me to introduce you to Lady Madeleine Bouvray- from Hungary no less.’

  Not relinquishing James’s arm for one moment, nor apparently sensing anything odd about his sudden change of behaviour, Madeleine sank into a low curtsy which revealed the shockingly low cut of her dress a little more than propriety would usually allow.

  She smiled beatifically at the Carmichaels as she straightened. ‘Charmed,’ she purred in her exotic accent.

  Cynthia Carmichael’s eyes widened and her fan fluttering intensified. ‘Hmm,’ she flustered, inclining her head to the younger woman. ‘Er … all the way from Hungary, Lady Madeleine. How very … interesting, to meet someone from such an … interesting country. Is it not, Felicity dear?’

  Felicity’s cold, calculating eyes roved malevolently over Lady Madeleine’s perfect form. She affected a disingenuous smile. ‘Indeed, it is, Mama,’ she almost hissed. ‘Quite … interesting indeed.’

  ‘I believe you are only here for a short visit, Lady Madeleine,’ continued Lady Carmichael, now wafting her fan wildly. ‘Do you have any idea how long you will be staying?’

  ‘Alas, I do not, madam,’ replied Lady Madeleine. Then, casting a knowing look at James, ‘Perhaps I might stay for good.’

  A look of horror swept over Cynthia Carmichael’s face. ‘Good gracious,’ she puffed, before adding quickly, through gritted teeth, ‘I mean how … delightful that would be.’

  ‘Yes it would,’ agreed James, tossing Madeleine another winning smile. ‘It would be most delightful.’

  He suddenly turned his dark eyes to look directly into Felicity’s insipid blue ones. ‘I do hope this evening lives up to your expectations, Miss Carmichael,’ he said coolly.