THE MAGIC TOUCH (Historical Romance)

by KEYSON, PATRICIA

  “Hope.” Constance’s tone was sharp. “This is not appropriate conversation for luncheon. Perhaps this afternoon you should practise your pianoforte skills if you are to accompany Beaumont’s slides.”

  “It’s strange he asked for me to play. He has a pianist who usually performs for him, doesn’t he?” Hope compressed her lips quickly and firmly. What had she said?

  “And how do you know that?” asked her aunt, putting another forkful of food into her mouth.

  “It’s what I suppose takes place. From what my parents have told me about the magic lantern shows.” Whatever had happened to her resolve to tell the truth whatever the consequences? The pudding was brought in. Although trifle was one of her favourite treats, she found her appetite had vanished.

  * * *

  The afternoon was interminably long and tedious. Hope didn’t enjoy rehearsing her scales and wasn’t very good at sight-reading music. She derived more pleasure from the covers of the scores than the printed notes inside. But Beaumont needed a proficient musician and she would do her best to provide him with one. Running her fingers up and down the keys, Hope’s thoughts turned to teaching Edna how to read and write. That captivated her far more than the music she was trying to play. It would open up a completely new world for her maid, just as it had done for Ruth. Without realising it until she hit the final note, Hope had continued through a complete piece of music and was singing along with it.

  It was at that point she decided that if she was not betrothed by the time she was thirty years old, she would ask Mama and Papa if she could be a governess. It was possible her parents might allow her if she explained it was her deepest desire, even though it was not the done thing for an earl’s daughter. With that happy thought embedded in her mind, Hope raced up the stairs to her rooms. The rest of the afternoon would be spent with Uncle Eustace’s books. Or she might sketch. The result wouldn’t be as wonderful as her mother’s art, of course, but she would try and improve that skill while she was in London.

  Thoughts of her uncle had Hope scrabbling about in the cupboard for her masculine disguise. Uncle Eustace’s clothes weren’t there. Panic set in and her heart beat faster. Then she remembered the clothes hadn’t been put away. Edna had come to the room, neatened her hair, and then Hope had gone down to luncheon. What had become of the clothes? Either Edna had tidied them away or she had returned them to their rightful place.

  There were not many hiding places where Edna could have secreted them, but Hope made sure she looked everywhere she could think of. It was to no avail. As Aunt Constance was busy with the maid, Hope could not summon her and she spent a long time pacing the room wishing Edna would walk through the door.

  In her mind dressing up as Richard was deeply connected to Beaumont and she couldn’t bear missing any opportunity to see him. As Hope there might be one or two occasions when she could mix with him, but they would be few and far between. She did begin to wonder if she was suffering from a malady as Aunt Constance had suggested, but had no idea what it would be called or how treated. With no sign of Edna, Hope made her way yet again to Uncle Eustace’s rooms. She thought that her aunt and the maid must have finished sorting Uncle Eustace’s clothes by now. No one was in the room, just numerous piles of clothes. She was surprised when Stevenson entered along with one of the male servants.

  “Lady Hope. I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

  “It’s all right, Stevenson, I came to see if the task was completed or not.”

  “As you can see my lady, these bundles of clothing are being taken now.” He gave a nod to the servant who proceeded to collect up some of the bundles and leave the room with them. “That pile on the floor is the clothing Her Grace thought was unsuitable to pass on.”

  “Thank you, Stevenson.” As soon as the butler had left the room she dived into the bundle and grabbed items one after the other holding them up to see how fitting they were. In her view most were perfectly useable. Having sorted an outfit for Richard she surreptitiously left the room telling herself she was doing nothing wrong. Back in her room she hid the clothes at the bottom of her trunk. Then, to calm herself, she sat at the escritoire and continued with her journal.

  I don’t know what has come over me. I have behaved in a most unbecoming way. Scrabbling through clothes regarded as waste. Why did I do it? Because I wish to see Beaumont. If, after my attempt at playing the piano, he never wants to see me again I can at least view him from afar as Richard. What is it about him that makes my pulse quicken and cheeks pinken? I am ridiculous, I hardly know the man. But something, no everything, about him appeals – from his looks to his pursuits. When I next see Edna I will not tell her about the clothes I have taken. We will never speak of me dressing as a man again. But now I will dress as Richard and attempt to escape for a walk in one of the parks.

  Hope felt comfortable in the clothes she had found and was pleased to have the watch tucked into the pocket of her waistcoat. It would ensure she was back in plenty of time and would not be missed. As her confidence increased she was able to enjoy all the sights and sounds of the street scenes around her. No longer did she hurry along, keeping her head down. She was certain no one would notice she was not what she seemed.

  An enjoyable stroll in the weakening sunshine along the park’s paths round the pond, gave her a feeling of peace. But on approaching Aunt Constance’s house she was horrified to see Beaumont coming along the street in the opposite direction, clearly making his way to the front entrance. It was an unusual time to be making a social call uninvited. Her jauntiness ebbed and her legs turned to jelly. Looking down at her feet she tried not to falter and attempted to make her way past him without being seen. He stopped.

  “Excuse me, it’s Monsieur Richard, n’est pas?”

  “Non,” she squeaked, before hurrying towards the side of the building and the back entrance. Once inside she leant against the door and vowed never again to risk going out in gentlemen’s clothes. In her rooms she changed and stuffed the outfit in her trunk promising herself they would be returned to the pile later. Pacing the floor she wondered what had brought Beaumont here to her aunt’s house again, and at such an unusual time to call. Had he realised she was not a man? Worse still, had he realised she was Hope and would he tell her aunt what he had seen? She hardly had time to recover from her confusion when there was a tap on the door. It was Edna bringing a request from Aunt Constance that Hope join her in the drawing room.

  Twisting her hands and breathing shallowly, Hope asked, “Why does she want me to join her, Edna?”

  “Mr Beaumont is here. I overheard him say he wishes to discuss the magic lantern programme with you. Her Grace told me he wants to hear you play the accompaniment.”

  “I can’t possibly.”

  “Your aunt will be displeased unless you are poorly. Are you ill?” Edna peered at her face.

  Hope paused. Could she honestly say she was ill? No, not in a physical sense. What was she to do? Face the consequences of her actions. She straightened up. “Very well, I will go down.” As she trudged down the stairs, she caught the timbre of Beaumont’s voice and her body responded to it without any encouragement. She breathed deeply as she descended from the bottom stair and entered the drawing room.

  “Ah, my dear, we have company. Beaumont would like to discuss your repertoire and listen to some of your pieces. We will have tea first in spite of it being rather late.” Aunt Constance gave Beaumont a withering look then nodded to the maid standing by the side table ready to serve the tea and delicacies.

  Beaumont conferred a little bow to Hope and waited for her to be seated before he too sat. His eyes twinkled. “Your aunt tells me you have been in your rooms all afternoon. Such a shame you weren’t able to enjoy the fresh air. It is a beautiful day for a walk.”

  “Humph. She can hardly go out alone, Beaumont, you know that.”

  “It’s a pity for the fairer sex. If she were a man she could do as she pleases.”

  He was making f
un of her, Hope was sure. How dare he! She glared at Beaumont and to her horror he winked at her. As her cheeks grew warm, she wondered if her aunt had witnessed the bold gesture. She tried to look away, but Beaumont’s eyes held hers.

  As the maid approached, Hope let out the breath she was holding in. Never had tea been more welcome.

  “When we have finished our refreshments, Hope, you must play for Beaumont,” said Constance.

  The awkward moment had vanished. Beaumont continued with equable comments until finally he put down his cup and saucer and patted his mouth with a napkin.

  Hope perched on the piano stool and fidgeted with a few pieces of sheet music. Beaumont stood next to her, her eyes level with his waistcoat buttons. “You won’t have seen my magic lantern shows, Hope, will you? Therefore you don’t know the sort of music I need. Let me try and explain.”

  Hope kept her eyes on the keys as he did so. Was she imagining the humour in his tone? He was teasing her again. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask in a whisper if he recognised her as being the young Frenchman, Richard, when he unexpectedly walked to the window and looked out. “Play whatever you wish. We will make a list of the appropriate pieces when you have finished.”

  “You will have to excuse me for a moment,” said Aunt Constance. “Carry on with your playing, Hope. I shall return in a short while.” She put her hand to her head and walked from the room.

  It didn’t take long for Hope to go through her range of music and she floundered at times. With Beaumont in the same room, she found it hard to concentrate. At last she came to an end and brought down the piano lid with finality. She sat in silence waiting for Beaumont to comment, but he, too, was silent. Unable to endure being in this situation any longer, she burst out, “Why couldn’t you have used your own pianist? She is far more accomplished than I am.”

  Beaumont swung round and strode back towards Hope and the piano. “And what do you know of her?”

  “I… er, nothing, I…” That was the second time she’d made the same mistake. What was the matter with her?

  Beaumont crouched down on the carpet beside Hope and took her hand. “We all have secrets, Hope. But I would like to think you could confide in me if you wished.”

  With a nod of her head, she sprang up and distanced herself from him. The touch of his flesh, the rough texture of his jacket and the smell of him put her through an assortment of emotions that she couldn’t comprehend. Her actions turned out to be well timed as Aunt Constance opened the door that very second and sailed into the room.

  “Constance,” said Beaumont, upright again, “your niece has hidden talents.” Hope refused to look at him. “She has a delightful way of attacking the notes and I’m sure she will be an asset to the programme. Are you all right, Constance? You seem a little distressed.”

  “I think the time spent in Eustace’s rooms this afternoon tired me more than I thought it would. My head aches a little. I bathed my eyes, but I’d like to sit here a while. Why don’t you escort Hope around the garden, Beaumont? She’s still got a pallor about her and you remarked it was a shame for her to have been cooped up in her rooms.”

  “An excellent suggestion,” smiled Beaumont. “If Hope is agreeable.”

  “I am aware it is not the done thing for my niece to be unchaperoned, but I can think of no alternative with this pain.” Constance clutched her head and closed her eyes. “I’ll get your maid to bring your shawl. It’s fresh outside.”

  Hope had no choice but to obey her aunt. Then she grasped what Edna’s appearance could mean. Oh dear, it was too bad. Why hadn’t she thought about it before and gone to fetch it herself? Edna came into the room and gasped when she caught sight of Beaumont. He came towards her and took the shawl she was holding. “Thank you. I remember you, of course, but I don’t know your name.”

  “Really, Beaumont,” chided Constance, raising her head and frowning at him, “you shouldn’t be so free with the servants.”

  He grinned at Edna. “You remind me of someone’s cousin.”

  CHAPTER 7

  The fresh air revived Hope a little and she enjoyed the chance to walk in the garden. A short time ago she would have given anything for an opportunity such as this: to be with Beaumont strolling among the flowers and trees in her aunt’s garden But she was in awe of him now as the unexplained secret hung between them. Although she felt unnerved by the situation, he probably did not. Nothing appeared to confound Beaumont. She stole a look at him. He ran his hand along the bark of a tree, tracing its intricate pattern with his fingers. For one flighty moment, she wished to change places with the tree bark. Then he spoke. “Are you coming to the Female Aid Society benefit to please your aunt or are you interested in the work of its members?”

  “I wish to know more of it. Mama sometimes attended meetings, but I never have. I am willing to help anyone less fortunate than I am.” As she spoke, Hope felt enthusiasm coursing through her; the same feeling she’d had when she taught Ruth to read and write and when she contemplated doing the same with Edna. The thought of Edna reminded her of the conversation prior to this walk in the garden. She would not mention it, unless he brought it up. The discussion could continue about the disadvantaged.

  “More than anything I should like to help people learn to read and write. Those two occupations give me such pleasure. I can’t bear to think of anyone not knowing the joy of the written word or of letter writing or composing other works. My dreams are to teach and one day to write a book.” There, it was out in the open. He would surely laugh at her aspirations. When she looked at him, he was gazing at her with a serious expression.

  Beaumont took her hand. “Such soft skin, Hope, and such sweet scent. Rose, isn’t it?” This wasn’t the response Hope had expected, but she couldn’t deny it was agreeable. “Your aims are admirable. I’m sure you will achieve them.”

  The moment was broken by the hurried arrival of Edna. “Hope, no I mean my lady,” Edna glanced at Beaumont, “Her Grace told me to come into the garden and tell you it’s time to go in now.”

  “How is she, Edna?” Beaumont asked.

  “She has a strong constitution, but I think she has been brought low by thoughts of His Grace.”

  “He was a fine man.” Beaumont held out his arm for Hope to take. She hesitated and glanced at the windows of the house before linking her arm with his. They walked back along the path together, with Edna trailing behind. When they reached the entrance he patted her hand.

  “I must leave you now. It has been most enjoyable spending time in your company. I trust you will be attending the Padstocks’ ball this Saturday. Apparently it is one of the highlights of the season.”

  “If Aunt Constance is fully recovered we will be there.”

  “Good, I look forward to dancing with you.”

  Hope wasn’t sure if she was pleased or not as she watched him saunter away from them. Surely he should ask her if she wanted to dance with him, not assume that she would. But on the other hand she’d give almost anything to dance with him all evening, something she knew would definitely not be allowed.

  * * *

  Edna couldn’t contain her anticipation on the day of the ball and skipped around Hope’s room as she helped her get ready. “This gold coloured ball gown is perfect for you, Hope. The line of it does justice to your trim waist and it’s the very latest design. I sometimes see Her Grace’s magazines after she has discarded them and look at the pictures.”

  Hope sat at the mirror while Edna styled her hair. “I do think this single flower will look lovely, Hope. Its colour complements your dress perfectly.”

  “What do you think about jewellery? I shouldn’t wear too much. Do you think the bracelet Mama and Papa gave me before they left would do?”

  “Perfectly. You’re pretty as a picture.”

  “But you still think I make a fine gentleman too?” They giggled and chatted until they were satisfied with Hope’s appearance.

  “Ah, good, I wondered when you would
be ready. We should be leaving now.”

  Hope had found her aunt looking rather wan sitting in the drawing room and gazing out of the window. “Are you all right, Aunt? If you don’t feel up to going I am quite happy to stay here with you.”

  “We’re going. James Henderson will be there and I think he will be asking you for more dances than is acceptable!”

  Hope wasn’t sure if her aunt found that prospect good or bad.

  “I have every wish that you and he will grow to like each other over the next few weeks and this ball is a chance for you to talk at least a little. I must remind you, however, that you should not dance too often with any one man. Maybe James will escort us to the refreshment room. Now send for our cloaks and we will set off.”

  As they entered the Padstocks’ mansion butterflies cavorted in Hope’s stomach. She didn’t want to dance with James Henderson, she wanted to dance with Beaumont and find out more about him. But she would have to be careful. There were always watchful eyes and word soon went round if anyone discredited themselves. The ballroom itself was alive with activity.

  Her aunt nudged her. “Look, he’s there.” She pointed her fan in the direction of James. “He’ll be over soon to ask for the next dance, I’m sure of it.”

  Hope wasn’t concerned. James appeared to be looking in the direction of Isabella Padstock who was laughing coquettishly with yet another handsome young man. As Hope glanced round the room she spotted Beaumont standing alone, deep in thought. She took a deep breath. He had to be the most handsome man in the room. His black dress-coat, waistcoat and white shirt set off his features to perfection. His beard was neatly trimmed and his hair dark and glossy. Just at that moment he looked up and their eyes met.

  “Hope, Hope, dear, do pay attention. James is heading our way.”

  The Honourable James Henderson duly stopped in front of then, bowing first respectfully to Constance and then to Hope. “Will you favour me with your hand for the next dance?” he asked.