The Unaccomplished Lady Eleanor

by Wendy Burdess

  Eleanor released her hold of him and gestured to him to be seated. She sat down opposite him. ‘Does this mean you have something to tell me, Ed?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘Aye, miss. Although to tell the truth, I’m not sure you’re going to believe it.’

  Eleanor raised her brows. ‘Oh, don’t worry about that. I can assure you that where Felicity Carmichael is concerned, nothing would surprise me.’

  ‘We-ll,’ began Ed hesitantly, ‘it turns out it’s not a farmworker you’re wanting to talk to, miss, but a young man by the name of Horace Edgeware who works at Tunbridges’ Stables.’

  ‘And this is the man Felicity has been … seeing?’

  ‘Yes, miss. Seems her mother, Lady Carmichael, bought a new horse from there six months ago and took Felicity along with her to choose it. While they were there, Horace and his sweetheart, young Betsy Mills, were having a heart to heart about getting married. Betsy was all crying and everything, miss, saying how on their wages, they’d never be able to afford to wed.’

  Eleanor nodded encouragingly as Ed took a breath.

  ‘So, miss, it only goes and turns out that that Felicity had overheard the conversation and saw Betsy in a right state and everything. So, the next day she went back to the stables – without her ma – and said she had one of them propositions to put to Horace.’

  Eleanor’s eyes widened. She could guess the rest. ‘So Felicity offered Horace money to …?’

  Ed flushed an even deeper shade of crimson and nodded profusely. ‘Aye, miss. And paid him well, by all accounts.’

  Eleanor shook her head disbelievingly. ‘Hmm. Well, I suppose some good has come out of it. At least now Horace and Betsy can afford to be married.’

  ‘Oh no, miss,’ explained Ed earnestly. ‘Betsy happened to come across Horace and Miss Carmichael one day. Barged right in, and there they were …you know, miss,’ flustered Ed, burning with embarrassment.

  ‘Oh, I can imagine, Ed,’ said Eleanor, pulling a disgusted face.

  ‘Anyway, when she found them … you know … Horace was all apologies like and tried to explain but that Felicity told him to shut up otherwise she’d make sure he never got another job within fifty miles of here. Betsy was in a right state, of course, crying and everything, and that Felicity, she just laughed at her. Laughed right in her face. And called her all sorts of names.’

  ‘Good God,’ exclaimed Eleanor.

  ‘So now, miss, Betsy wants nothing to do with Horace, and Horace is fair fuming with that Felicity. Wishes he’d never set eyes on her – never mind anything else.’

  ‘Well, that I can fully understand, Ed. Do you think though that Horace would be willing to speak to me about it?’

  Ed nodded. ‘Know for a fact he would, miss. He’s a good lad. Just thought he was doing the right thing at the time.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure he did. Would you take me to see him, Ed?’

  ‘Aye, miss,’ beamed the boy. ‘I’d love to.’

  The prestigious masquerade ball at Almack’s was to be held that evening. The dowager had written instructions that James was to escort Eleanor - an arrangement which, she had to confess made her both nervous and excited in equal measures. Later that afternoon, Giles delivered her a note from James informing her that he had been detained in London and would meet her at the venue at eight o’clock. That she had not seen him since he had left her with the viscount in the orchard that morning, had done nothing to quell the irksome thought which had been preying heavily on her mind all day: had he been on the verge of kissing her again before they were so rudely interrupted? Still, the fact that he was now to meet her at Almack’s had provided the perfect solution to another problem she had been puzzling over. She could now, without any interrogation from James, instruct the carriage driver to take a detour via the Maguires’ cottage to collect two more guests for the ball.

  Eleanor’s driver said nothing, but the surprise on his face when a young lady and a young gentleman – both dressed in traditional Spanish mode - joined Eleanor in the carriage that evening. Of course Eleanor was aware that to receive an invitation to Almack’s was a great honour - its patronesses adhering to the most idiosyncratic of rules when distributing their highly sought-after vouchers. The very cream of Society and most of the haut ton were therefore already milling around when Eleanor alighted from the carriage with her two masked guests. James was waiting for her in the entrance hall. As she approached him, she was aware of his eyes growing wide under his mask as they travelled over her costume. She was dressed as a mediaeval princess, in a cream velvet gown which adopted a delicate rose sheen in the candlelight. The front of the dress plunged in a low revealing V, adorned with sapphires and rubies. The same jewels glittered from the belt hanging loosely around her slim waist, and the golden snood encasing her thick glossy hair. James was not in costume, but sported the all black evening wear which accentuated his dark, masculine looks.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind, sir,’ said Eleanor, still conscious of his eyes on her. ‘But I have brought along my cousins, Maribeth and Neville. They have been visiting on the coast and made a detour especially to see me on their way home to Cambridge. As the voucher did say we may each bring a guest, I did not think it would signify.’

  James inclined his head to the two masked guests. Neville returned the gesture, whilst Maribeth sank into a deep curtsy.

  Obviously in no mood for chit-chat, having greeted the unexpected guests thus, James wasted no time in making his impatience at being kept waiting quite clear.

  ‘Let us make our way inside,’ he instructed authoritatively. ‘There is quite a crowd gathering already and I am in no mood for yet more interrogation regarding Lovell and Madeleine. I would suggest you fix your mask, Lady Eleanor, before we enter the ballroom.’

  Good lord, thought Eleanor, as she clipped the jewelled mask to her hair with the help of Maribeth, one could never tell what sort of mood this man was going to be in. He had been so tender with her that morning and now, a few hours later, here he was bossing her around again. It occurred to her that he was so vexatingly unpredictable, that perhaps she should just let Felicity marry him and be done with it. Upon entering the ballroom, however, and setting eyes on Felicity and her mother, both dressed in unflattering Tudor costume, she knew that she could not. James had stopped to talk to an acquaintance just as they approached the Carmichaels and it was therefore Eleanor and her two cousins who reached the pair first.

  ‘Oh, Eleanor,’ exclaimed Lady Carmichael, obviously, by her flushed face, in a high state of excitement. ‘How are you, my dear, after that dreadful business?’

  ‘Oh, quite well, I can assure you, Lady Carmichael,’ replied Eleanor blithely.

  ‘You must give me all the details,’ instructed Lady Carmichael. ‘Felicity and I did pay a visit to Lady Ormiston, but unfortunately both you and James were absent and it was rather difficult to glean any information from the poor woman. We did, though, have the honour of seeing Viscount Grayson there. What a pity he is unable to attend this evening.’

  ‘Indeed it is. A great pity,’ agreed Eleanor archly. ‘Now, please do allow me to introduce my cousins, Maribeth and Neville.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Lady Carmichael, casting the pair a cursory glance. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, I’m sure. It is always a pleasure to meet anyone connected with the Ormiston family, is it not, Felicity dear?’

  ‘Indeed it is, Mama,’ agreed Felicity, inclining her head to the two guests.

  ‘Oh,’ squealed Lady Carmichael as James joined them. ‘And here he is at last. Goodness, James,’ she gushed, grabbing hold of his hand and squeezing it so tightly that James grimaced. ‘How dreadfully thrilling it all is. I can scarcely wait for twelve o’clock. In fact I am positively bursting with excitement.’

  James flashed her a dampening look and pulled his hand roughly from hers. ‘May I suggest you curb your excitement, madam. I hardly think the unmasking worthy of so much eager anticipation.’

  ‘Oh,
you know it is not the unmasking to which I am referring, silly,’ giggled Lady Carmichael, awarding him a playful tap on the arm with her closed fan.

  James fixed Felicity with a menacing glare. ‘I can think of nothing else that is planned to occur this evening, madam, which could possibly cause you so much excitement.’

  ‘Oh, you are amusing, James,’ twittered the older woman, now whipping open her fan and fluttering furiously. ‘Is he not amusement itself, Felicity?’

  ‘Indeed, he is Mama,’ agreed Felicity, with a demure smile.

  As Lady Carmichael then launched into a futile attempt to glean the latest details of the Lovell/Madeleine saga from James, Eleanor suddenly felt extremely nervous. In marked contrast to Felicity, she noticed, who appeared calmness personified. Incredible, given that tonight was to be the culmination of all the girl’s weeks of planning and plotting. What if, though, Eleanor’s own plan, designed to counter Felicity’s, failed to work? What if Felicity announced, as she so obviously planned to, that she and James were betrothed, right here in front of the entire ton? If James then reneged on his word, and Felicity was indeed with child, then it was likely to cause the biggest scandal since Caroline Lamb and Lord Byron; and James would be forced to leave the country. At that thought, an icy shiver shot down her spine. If James left the country she might never see him again. Well, she resolved, there was only one way to make sure that didn’t happen. She had to make sure her plan did work.

  Despite its exalted venue and hoards of opulently clad, esteemed guests, the ball held little interest for Eleanor. Masks and the costumes apart, it differed little from the other tedious engagements she had been forced to endure during her stay in London. The only redeeming feature was that Viscount Grayson had been unable to attend.

  Eleanor wandered disconsolately into the supper-room, where there was yet another disgusting display of indulgence and greed – the tables groaning under the weight of the food and the floor no doubt groaning under the weight of some of the grotesque guests indulging in it. Her heart froze for a second as she caught sight of the Duchess of Swinton, stunning in a white chiffon toga, her hair dressed in the Roman fashion and adorned with white pearls. There was no sign of the duke. Eleanor watched as the duchess, standing by one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, set down her plate and made to leave the room – at the same moment James chose to enter it. The two of them exchanged a look that spoke volumes; a look that speared Eleanor’s heart like a cold blade of steel and left her in no doubt at all that James Prestonville was still in love with the Duchess of Swinton.

  Eleanor spent the remainder of the interminable evening wishing she were somewhere else - anywhere else. In no mood for dancing or socializing, she wandered aimlessly around the house and gardens. As the midnight hour approached, however, she managed to pull herself together. Just because James loved another woman, did not mean she could walk away and leave him to the mercy of Felicity Carmichael. She loved him too much for that - even if her feelings were not reciprocated. She had never been in love before and due to this immense pain, she vowed never to allow the wretched thing to creep up on her again. For now, she needed to be strong – for James.

  At one minute before midnight, Felicity Carmichael appeared decidedly pleased with herself – almost as pleased as her mother who sported a smile as wide as the Thames and shifted nervously from foot to foot as she gazed proudly at her daughter. James was nowhere to be seen and Eleanor noticed Felicity’s eyes anxiously darting around the room in an attempt, she assumed, to locate him.

  The packed ballroom began counting down the seconds in time to the chimes. ‘Ten – nine – eight-’

  ‘Oh, excuse me, Miss Carmichael,’ apologized a gentleman dressed in the Spanish fashion, who had bumped into Felicity.

  Felicity shot him a reprimanding glare.

  ‘I take it you don’t recognize me, miss,’ said the man.

  ‘Indeed, I do not, sir. I have never set eyes on you before this evening,’ she snapped, her eyes still darting around the room.

  As the crowd counted down ‘-two – one – hurrah!’ and everyone whipped off their masks, so, too, did the young man standing in front of Felicity.

  ‘Oh, but you have, Miss Carmichael,’ he replied with a bow.

  Felicity Carmichael’s porcine eyes grew wide. ‘You,’ she hissed venomously. ‘What in hell’s name are you doing here?’

  ‘Felicity, dear. Language,’ chided Lady Carmichael who was standing alongside her daughter. ‘Now, where on earth is James, pumpkin? You really should be-

  ‘Be quiet, Mother!’

  Shock washed over Lady Carmichael’s face. She opened her mouth to reply, but detecting the hatred flashing in her daughter’s eyes, obviously thought better of it and swiftly closed it again.

  Felicity, meanwhile, turned her attention back to the man in front of her. ‘I told you to keep away from me,’ she snarled. ‘And I paid you very well to do so.’

  Horace nodded. ‘Aye you did that, miss. But you can have it back - every last cursed penny of it.’

  Aware of the enquiring glances being cast their way, Lady Carmichael attempted a wavering smile, whilst, in a lowered voice, muttered to her daughter, ‘Felicity, what on earth is this man talk-?’

  ‘Be quiet!’ barked Felicity, paying no heed to her increasing audience. ‘This man was just leaving.’

  ‘No I wasn’t,’ declared Horace stoutly. ‘Not until I’ve made sure you’re not about creating more havoc. You’ve ruined my life and Betsy’s and I’m sure as eggs not going to sit by and watch you ruin someone else’s.’

  A furious Felicity stamped her foot. ‘You idiot!’ she screamed, tears of anger rolling down her plump face. ‘You are nothing! Nothing! You and your pathetic, snivelling girl! I, on the other hand, could have been something – a great lady in a great house. I had it all planned. Every last bit of it … and now you- you-’

  ‘Aye, miss,’ sniffed Horace, shaking his head in mock sympathy, ‘well you know what they say about the best laid plans.’

  ‘Get out of my sight!’ roared Felicity. ‘Or I’ll … I’ll-’

  ‘You’ll what, miss?’ cut in Horace calmly. ‘Tell all these top-lofty folk here about how you paid me to lie with you? About how you wanted a babe so you could fob the poor child off as someone else’s? Someone with a fancy title and a big house? Well, let me tell you something, Miss Carmichael, if you really are with child then it’s mine all right and I’ll fight you for it. Oh, I know I might not have a fancy title and a big house but I have plenty of love to give it and that is something an evil little witch like you will never have.’

  Quivering with frustration and anger and now conscious of the large, astounded crowd which had gathered around them, a seething Felicity, picked up her skirts and, holding her chin high, made her way through the crowd towards the door. At exactly the same moment, Lady Carmichael collapsed in a heap on the floor in a very justifiable fit of the vapours.

  ‘I thought you said that that man was your cousin, Lady Eleanor,’ remarked a puzzled and visibly relieved James as he steered her out onto the terrace, away from all the drama inside.

  ‘I did. But only because I couldn’t think of any other way to get him and Milly in here.’

  ‘I see,’ said James, as they reached a corner of the stone balustrade. ‘And why exactly did you want to get him in here?’

  ‘To stop Felicity blackmailing you, of course,’ replied Eleanor matter-of-factly. She had her back to the balustrade and was aware that James was standing very close to her. She suddenly felt quite shy again.

  He regarded her with a bemused smile. ‘But how did you know she was?’

  She raised her eyes to him and said sheepishly, ‘I overheard her – on several occasions, sir. But I did not dare say anything to you because you have been rather … grumpy of late. And besides, I didn’t know what good it would do, you knowing that I knew.’

  James shook his head, regarding her in amazement. ‘I don’t know how
I can ever repay you for what you have done, Lady Eleanor. You really are an astonishing woman.’

  This time she dared not look at his face but focused instead on the broadness of his chest which was level with her eyes. ‘I believe you have bestowed that label upon me already, sir. In the orchard at Whitlock,’ she almost whispered.

  ‘Ah, yes,’ said James, moving closer. He raised a hand and trailed a finger down her soft cheek, causing Eleanor to tremble. ‘And what was it we were talking about there, before we were so rudely interrupted?’

  His face was now so close to hers that his breath feathered across her skin, causing her heart to race uncontrollably.

  ‘I have quite forgotten, sir,’ murmured Eleanor closing her eyes and parting her lips in anticipation of his kiss.

  ‘Then perhaps I should remind you,’ whispered James.

  The first time he had kissed her he had, quite literally, taken her breath away. This time, he took not only her breath but every one of her senses. He started hesitantly at first, his lips gently brushing against hers, teasing her, making her yearn for more. As he began probing the inside of her mouth with his tongue, deepening the kiss, Eleanor pressed her body unashamedly to his and emitted a small groan of pleasure.

  ‘Marry me, Eleanor,’ he murmured, as his lips briefly left hers. He gave her no chance to reply as he kissed her again, harder this time. Eleanor felt herself drowning in his lips, his arms, his words. Suddenly, however, an image slammed into her mind – an image of the look he had exchanged earlier with the Duchess of Swinton. The effect could not have been more sobering if someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water over her.

  ‘No,’ she said, pushing him away from her. ‘I am sorry but I cannot marry you, sir.’ And with that, she picked up her skirts and marched back to the house, fighting the tears burning her eyes.

  Milly and Horace chattered all the way home in the carriage about the magnificence of the ball, the success of their plan and the reaction in the room once Felicity had left. Eleanor heard not a word of it. She could think of nothing other than James and his proposal. She now knew that she loved the wretched man to complete and utter distraction but he had made no declaration of love for her. Obviously, he was only asking her to marry him because he felt obliged; because that was the only way he could think of repaying her for saving his life. Having witnessed his brief encounter with the duchess that evening, it was obvious where his true feelings lay.