THE MAGIC TOUCH (Historical Romance)

by KEYSON, PATRICIA

  Hope sprang up and hugged her aunt. “How generous you are, Aunt. I should love to go shopping with you. Will you purchase something new as well?”

  “Goodness me, no. I have several wardrobes full upstairs. In all sizes and colours. Your uncle used to like me to be well presented. He always complimented me on my outfits. But now I have to wear mourning.” She looked away, but not before Hope noted, with horror, her aunt’s moist eyes.

  “Uncle Eustace was lovely. He was a good match, Aunt.”

  That made Constance snort and the intimate moment passed. Hope couldn’t wait to tell Edna she was getting a new outfit. She pictured herself running her fingers over the silks and velvets. All the colours of the rainbow, but deeper and richer. She longed for the outfit to be finished so she could see if it met her expectations. Could that be because she wanted to impress someone? If so, she wouldn’t be telling. She glanced at her aunt who appeared to be deep in thought.

  “I still have all Eustace’s belongings. I haven’t been able to tell Stevenson to remove them.”

  This was a new, softer side of her aunt that Hope hadn’t seen before. “May I help in any way, Aunt?”

  “Encourage me, my dear. It is pointless holding on to his possessions. I’ve tried to make a start, but I find it upsetting. I must face the fact that he is gone. Please go upstairs to the second floor, Stevenson will show you the room, and you will see the herculean task for yourself. I can’t think about it anymore today. I will go and rest until dinner.”

  Hope wasn’t quite sure how she felt about surveying her dead uncle’s possessions, but she wanted to help her aunt. She hadn’t known Uncle Eustace very well, but she remembered he wasn’t particularly tall and had been somewhat slight. Quite in contrast to her aunt’s formidable stature. She wouldn’t involve Stevenson just yet, but would first see exactly what there was to be dealt with.

  After entering rooms she had never glimpsed before, she finally found one containing all manner of things a gentleman might require. The first objects to catch her attention were the hats piled upon a tallboy. A top hat took her fancy and without a second thought she placed it on her head. Looking round she found a long mirror in front of the window and scrutinised her image in it. She tucked her hair up inside the hat and looked at herself from every angle. If she had a brother he would surely look like this. Taken with the idea of dressing up, Hope searched the cupboards and found trousers, a shirt, waistcoat and jacket. Having discarded her own garments and thrown them on a chair, she quickly donned her uncle’s clothes. They were a little large, but not outrageously so and were just right at hiding her feminine curves. She stood in front of the mirror in admiration. She certainly looked different from the picture of herself in a beautiful new gown which she’d imagined just a short time ago. She was aware that men stood and walked differently to women so set her feet apart and pulled her shoulders back. “Swagger,” she told herself. She walked round the room then stood again in front of the mirror. Placing her hands on her hips she tried to gain a masculine stance, but was shocked to see the door opening behind her. She turned quickly as Edna appeared. The maid looked as though she was about to scream. Hope tugged the hat from her head. “It’s only me.”

  “Oh, my lady, I thought you were an intruder.” Edna almost ran over to study her. “You scared the life out of me.”

  “Help me change before someone else sees me.” Hope struggled to pull the jacket off as she suddenly felt the need to be rid of the masculine attire. She shouldn’t be wearing her dead uncle’s clothes. It was appalling behaviour and if her aunt found out there would be an awful fuss. “Come on please, Edna, help me. Hurry up.” She felt rather faint and breathless, but between them the two young women quickly managed to have Hope dressed in the feminine manner again. “Ah, that’s a relief.” She took a few deep, slow breaths.

  Edna smiled. “It was funny the way you were altered. You could easily have passed as a man.”

  “It was quite convincing, wasn’t it? I have to admit I thought I made rather a handsome fellow.”

  “Whatever were you thinking dressing up like that?”

  It was a reasonable question. “I was thinking that dressed like that, dressed like a man, I could do almost anything I want.” As Hope uttered the words, all sorts of options rushed through her mind. She shook her head to clear it and admonished herself to slow down. She always was one to act first and think later. It was one thing to behave impulsively in front of her parents, but she was here in a grand house in London with her aunt. It would not do at all.

  “A very fine man you made too. I wouldn’t mind being seen walking out with you.”

  Hope felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from her. “Really? We could… What possibilities… No, that’s too ridiculous. Come along, Edna. I’m sure you have things to do and I would like to finish my book before it’s time to get ready for dinner.”

  Unfortunately concentration didn’t come to Hope. She couldn’t get the troublesome thought from her mind that masquerading as a man would offer her numerous opportunities for adventure. What had Edna said? She could easily pass as a man and she wouldn’t mind being seen walking out with her. With her book open in her lap, Hope let her imagination run wild.

  CHAPTER 2

  Hope was absorbed in the procedure of the fitting which was vastly different from her experiences with her mother. She felt bemused as the dressmaker took complete charge and paraded swatches of materials in various colours before her. She looked to her aunt for guidance, but she was sitting in a comfortable chair engrossed in a fashion article in ‘The Queen’ magazine. Mindful of Edna’s advice about richer colours, she opted for the deeper turquoise, relieved to see the smile of satisfaction on the dressmaker’s face. “Some of the turquoise colours are too blue, but this one is right for you, Lady Hope. I suggest the trimmings are kept to a minimum so as not to detract from your own beauty.”

  The laugh Hope was about to explode into was covered with a discreet cough. Hope realised she was getting quite attracted to the idea of dressing up, be it for enjoyment or something more. While she waited to receive her aunt’s approval about the garment, Hope looked around the showroom. Perhaps she would call again and order a couple of modest outfits. She felt she was taking on a new persona. Her stay in London was proving to be more exciting and appealing than she could have wished.

  During luncheon Hope was hardly aware of her plate of mutton and cabbage. Her attention was absorbed by the goings-on around her. If she ate out in a restaurant with her parents, the surroundings were less ornate and the atmosphere quieter than here. Snatches of conversation and laughter reached her and she wanted to soak everything up. The cutlery clattered down on her plate as she finished her main course. Her aunt, by contrast, slowly ate her portion of pigeon pie and sipped a glass of claret.

  Hope turned her attention to her aunt. “Thank you for my dress, Aunt. I love it.” With happiness she concentrated on her iced dessert which slid down her throat with tingling pleasure.

  “We should be getting home now,” said Aunt Constance. “There is a lot to be seen to with regard to the arrangements for the dinner. The time will go by very quickly.”

  Hope was reluctant to leave, but it had been a full morning and she’d enjoyed herself. “It’s a pity the Padstocks couldn’t attend, isn’t it, Aunt? Especially as James Henderson will be there.” Hope couldn’t resist the seemingly innocent remark. Perhaps now she would find out the situation between Isabella and James.

  “I’m not sure they were aware of his invitation to the event. They had a prior engagement. There will be other opportunities for them to visit if you wish to spend time with the sisters, Hope.”

  Although she looked forward to spending time with Mary and Isabella, Hope wanted to know about the gentlemen who were being invited to dinner in order to meet her. It was time to change the course of the conversation. “And Mr Beaumont, why is he disliked? If he’s such an awful person, why did you invite him, Au
nt?” This had been a puzzle to Hope.

  Aunt Constance hesitated as if unsure how to answer the direct questions. “He knew your uncle and for some reason they developed, not exactly a friendship, more of a respect I suppose you could call it. Of course, Eustace had a lot about him to be respectful of, but Beaumont, well he always appeared ill-mannered and discourteous whenever I met him. No quality of diplomacy in him at all.” She clamped her mouth shut and stood up as if anxious to leave.

  The story of Mr Beaumont would be hard to unravel. Hope wasn’t ready to return to the house just yet, but the thought of writing in her journal about the day and what she knew so far of the dinner guests appealed.

  On reaching her room, she picked up her pen and began her journal entry.

  I am missing Mama and Papa dreadfully, but Aunt Constance is a dear once she has melted a little. London is always exciting and there are so many agreeable people to meet. I am quite sure Aunt Constance will have me married before my stay is over. James Henderson is young and good-looking and Mr Beaumont is… mysterious.

  I am already growing fond of Edna and she did not appear too alarmed when she found me in Uncle Eustace’s clothes. I rather envy gentlemen their freedom from restricting corsets although I am overjoyed about my new dress.

  Next time I will write about The Honourable James Henderson and Mr Beaumont.

  * * *

  With Edna’s help, Hope pulled on the various layers of underclothing before the beautiful new creation tumbled over her head and fell with a whisper to the ground.

  “It’s wonderful, my lady,” sighed Edna. “Such a beautiful colour.”

  “I took your advice and chose a rich one, like you suggested. You were right, of course. You have excellent taste. Now, shall we see if my hair will behave itself?”

  Hope didn’t have as many qualms now about looking in the mirror. She’d got used to her reflection again and her aunt, the dressmaker and Edna had intimated that she wasn’t bad looking. Her confidence was, if not soaring, at least testing its wings.

  “You know Mr Beaumont, don’t you, Edna?” The sharp intake of breath didn’t go unnoticed by Hope. “What is the secret surrounding him?”

  She watched Edna’s frown in the mirror. “There’s no secret as far as I know. He’s not a very popular figure. He’s too outspoken for a lot of the gentry, begging your pardon.”

  Hope dabbed some of her favourite rose scent on her arms and behind her ears. “I shall find out for myself,” she declared, noticing from her reflection that her eyes were sparkling with mischief. “I’ll tell you all about this evening, Edna, when I’m preparing for bed.”

  There was silence as Hope descended the stairs. She was late, she knew, and anticipated a mild reproof from her aunt. She circulated and made conversation with the guests. Then she felt her pulse racing and grabbed at a chair to steady herself. Turning round slowly, she observed a tall gentleman with curling black hair and, unlike most of the other guests, he appeared to make no pretence at enjoying himself or joining in. He merely stood, examining the paintings on the walls, seemingly deep in thought.

  Instinctively knowing who he was, Hope approached him. “Mr Beaumont, how do you do? I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “Are you? Not many people are.” The sound of his voice caused Hope’s pulse to quicken. It was deep and resonantly rich, almost musical. Also, she noted that he hadn’t flinched when she’d flouted decorum and addressed him first. She trusted her aunt hadn’t observed her approach to him. However, she recognised the abrupt manner in which he had answered her.

  Hope was only slightly disconcerted. Usually guests at least made an effort to be polite and affable at such occasions, but her parents had friends who were forthright and she had always managed to charm them in some way. She would not be put off. “You knew my uncle, I understand. I am Hope.”

  “I know. And I am Beaumont. Not Mr Beaumont.” With that, he nodded his head to her and walked to a table where he helped himself to a modest amount of whisky.

  Hope’s mind whirled. She’d been led to believe he was discourteous and brusque and he had certainly lived up to his reputation. Had she really thought he’d be any different with her? She shivered slightly. Not from cold, but anticipation of the evening ahead. How she wished she’d studied her aunt’s seating plan. Would she be seated next to Beaumont? When Stevenson announced that dinner was served, she was escorted to the table by James. Luck was on her side. Taking her place, she looked straight into the mesmeric eyes of the intriguing Beaumont. He stared at her, no smile or welcome on his face. Hope sighed to herself. His allure was increasing and she knew she should put a stop to it, but at that moment she was powerless. She didn’t want to put a stop to anything to do with Beaumont until she’d found out more about him and satisfied her curiosity.

  “I’m delighted to be here this evening, Lady Hope.” A voice at her side brought her out of her reverie. She turned to the clean-shaven young gentleman whose face was as sunny and open as Beaumont’s was clouded and closed. “I hope we can get to know each other. Your parents are on the continent, I understand.”

  James informed her he had already travelled a good deal which was possibly why they had never met before. He was keen to apprise Hope of various adventures which could be undertaken whilst abroad. Although she was initially eager to know what James had to say, Hope was aware of Beaumont’s eyes on her throughout the meal. He did not attempt to engage anyone nearby in conversation and no one appeared anxious or desirous to talk to him. Perhaps what her aunt had said was the whole truth about him: he was rude. But Hope refused to believe that.

  She grew fidgety as she listened to James Henderson conversing about shooting parties he’d been on. She found it difficult to stay attentive. His early promise of thought-provoking conversation hadn’t lasted long. Half-way through enjoying the turbot, Hope found her gaze wandering to the gentleman who was seated opposite her, and when the succulent roast lamb was served, she merely set about eating it wondering if Beaumont would engage her in conversation. When the next course of jellied chicken was offered she declined as she was becoming aware that her corset was beginning to stifle her.

  “Constance.” Beaumont’s use of her aunt’s Christian name caused a gasp from Stevenson and glares from round the table. This was proving to be a very unusual dinner party. “What will be done with the leftover food?”

  Hope was amazed at his bluntness. She herself had been wondering the same thing. She held her breath as she waited for the conversation to continue.

  “I have no idea, Beaumont. Am I expected to oversee the kitchen now? I never set foot there. If you are so inquisitive about the food from my table then I’m sure Stevenson can enlighten us.” She raised her eyebrows at Stevenson and Hope was surprised and delighted to see that her aunt was entertained by the turn of events.

  “Some will be used for luncheon tomorrow, Your Grace, and some will be served in the servants’ hall.”

  “And the rest, Stevenson?” Beaumont persisted. There was no reply. “It should be parcelled up for the poor.”

  “I’m sure the sorbet will be excellent when the poor go to eat it tomorrow.” James guffawed.

  “Clearly not the sorbet or other iced desserts, but the meat, fish, bread, fruit and vegetables would be appreciated,” Beaumont said, with an air of impatience.

  “Would you like a food parcel as well?” James asked.

  Beaumont tapped the table. “I am very well provided for, for which I give thanks. As everyone round this table is aware, my father was a wealthy man who made his money from textiles in the north of England. I do not require a food parcel.”

  Hope broke the ensuing silence. “I for one think it’s an excellent idea. What do you say, Aunt Constance? Please could the surplus food be given away?”

  “Yes, my dear. Stevenson, see to it.” She nodded at Hope. “I am quite sure that your late uncle would approve.”

  Hope leapt from her feet and rushed over t
o kiss her aunt on her cheek. “Oh thank you, Aunt, I’m sure it’s a good decision.”

  “Really, my dear, a little restraint is required if you wish to ensnare yourself a husband,” Aunt Constance whispered.

  Hope capered back to her chair and breathed a sigh of relief as the guests resumed their conversations. Looking across at Beaumont she saw that he was gazing at her and his deep brown eyes held hers for the briefest of moments before she looked away. When she turned back to him, he was looking down at his plate the glimmer of a smile on his sensuous mouth.

  “This dinner party will be the talk of London for weeks to come. Although I must admit to generally being the subject of much conversation amongst the ladies.” The Honourable James Henderson smirked. Hope hid a grin as she thought of James being outdone by a food parcel. “Still pursuing your hobby, Beaumont?” he asked across the table.

  “I have many hobbies, although I don’t count country sports amongst them which I gather is your main pursuit.”

  “I’m sure Lady Hope would rather hear about your picture shows than anything I might tell her.”

  “Picture shows! What is this hobby of yours, Beaumont?” she asked. He was becoming more and more fascinating. Perhaps now she would find out something about him. At least he must answer her, surely.

  “I’m a magic lanternist.” As he imparted this astounding news, his eyes were on her and it was as if only the two of them were present at the table. Hope blinked rapidly to bring herself back from what must be a flight of fancy. But as she stared at him again, his eyes were still on her, the rest of the guests seemingly ignored. Then she was aware of her aunt’s discreet cough and recovered herself.

  Her parents had told her about magic lanterns and the shows they had attended. They usually went to see any travel presentations at the town hall. She particularly remembered them telling her about one entitled The Adventures of David Livingstone.