Most Rebellious Debutante

by Abbott, Karen

  She loved the excitement and constant activity of the social life and lived it to the full, but there were many of the accepted customs and behaviour of the ton that she secretly despised. The rules and regulations were so false, a mere coating of respectability and correct behaviour; the points of etiquette so complex that it was like a maze that could bewilder and trip the unwary. Lucy inadvertently flouted many restrictions placed upon the young ladies. Some of the more modest debutantes looked askance when she rode in Hyde Park with her many admirers, even though she was accompanied by a groom. And eyebrows were raised when she took the reins of an escort’s carriage when offered the opportunity, an action which endeared her to the admiring bucks, who were often overheard to be describing her as ‘an out and outer’, a ‘prime article’ and being ‘bang up to the mark’!

  Her mama lived in constant dread of her daughter being labelled a ‘hoyden’ or being ‘fast’. But Lucy’s natural cheerfulness and lack of guile saved her from being condemned by the rival mamas – that and the growing realization that the vivacious Miss Templeton was turning down the offers of marriage that she received from the bucks who were so bold as to make their offers early in the Season.

  At first, her mama was in agreement. ‘You can do far better than him,’ she murmured when a deflated younger son of a baronet took his leave. ‘I sometimes think I was too hasty in accepting your papa. I might have landed an earl if I had held out a while longer.’

  Even when Lucy declined an advantageous offer from a middle-aged viscount, her mama’s censure was only brief and half-hearted, but when Lucy refused to even hear an offer from the second son of the Earl of Standish, her condemnation was more stringent. ‘You will do as I say, Lucy! You can expect no better an offer than this. Your papa will be most annoyed if you are not settled by the end of the Season. He will not be so tolerant as to allow you another, you know.’

  ‘But I do not love him, Mama.’

  ‘Pah! What has love to do with marriage? He is tolerably likeable and extremely wealthy. You would want for nothing!’

  ‘But I do not wish to be married to someone for whom I have no affection, Mama.’

  ‘But what will become of you, Lucy?’ Lady Templeton responded. ‘What can a woman from our station in life do except be married and fill her husband’s nursery?’

  ‘She can remain single and have charge of her own life,’ Lucy replied spiritedly.

  ‘Not with the sanction of Society! Oh, why can’t you be like Marissa, who accepted the first man of standing who offered for her?’

  But Lucy was not like her sister and made no pretence of being so. If she had been more like her sister, there is no doubt that she would not have begged her mama to accept an invitation to a private masquerade party at Vauxhall Gardens, but all that she had heard about it made it seem like an exciting, intriguing place of entertainment. Her friends all agreed.

  ‘And surely Lady Birchley wouldn’t hold a private party in a place that is unsuitable for young people!’ she pushed her case. ‘After all, her own granddaughter, Lady Sophie, is to attend and absolutely everyone who is of note will be there. Please, Mama!’

  Lady Templeton finally agreed. After all, if the majority of the social elite were to be there, who knows who might spot her daughter and be taken by her.

  ‘Very well, Lucy. But you must stay close to me and the others of our party. On no account must you wander off without a chaperon, for you must be aware that the Gardens are open to the general public and anyone who can afford the entrance fee of three shillings is likely to be there!’ A slight shudder accompanied the final part of her warning and Lucy suppressed a wry smile at her mother’s fine sense of social superiority.

  ‘Oh, thank you, Mama! It will be a most wonderful evening. May I send a note round to Eliza to tell her that we are to attend?’

  That done, Lucy immediately repaired to her room to seek Susie’s help in choosing what she would wear. Over the next few days, the masquerade party at Vauxhall was the main topic of conversation among the young people, especially regarding their dress. Lucy eventually chose a pale-pink muslin gown with a dusky pink silk pelisse and matching domino.

  Early in the evening, the party assembled at Lady Birchley’s town residence and drove in convoy to the landing stage opposite to Vauxhall Gardens, which stood on the south bank of the Thames near Lambeth. They crossed the Thames by boat and passed through the water entrance to be immediately entranced by the thousands of lanterns that hung in festoons from the branches of the trees that lined the promenades. The lights twinkled like stars and were reflected in the sparkling water of the magnificent fountains that danced and splashed around the grounds, set among artificial ruins and magnificent tableaux.

  The party made a colourful sight, the hooded Venetian cloaks of the ladies offset by the darker hues worn by the gentlemen. The fact that everyone was masked added to the gaiety and excitement and many otherwise well-behaved young ladies indulged in a degree of mild flirting that would have been unthought of without the anonymity of their dress, a ploy that Lucy immediately thought to be quite superfluous, as most disguises were rendered ineffectual when the wearers spoke. Why, anyone could tell that the Elizabethan courtier was Harry Crawthorne and that the elaborate, many caped silver costume covered no other than Robert Harrington! But, no matter, the young men were well-schooled by their mamas and tutors and extravagant compliments and clever ripostes were tossed about and received with good humour and varying degrees of delight, depending on who had made the compliment and to whom it was directed. It was all part of the courting game that was part of the Season.

  Many of the revellers in other groups or parties were also wearing masked dominoes, which engendered much amusement, as wild guesses were made as to the identities thus concealed or disguised. ‘Even the Prince Regent and his cohorts come here,’ one knowledgeable young man informed the group. ‘Why, that masked Tudor courtier over there, no doubt intending to resemble King Henry VIII, might well be he!’

  ‘I doubt it,’ another remarked drily. ‘His Royal Highness would need three such costumes to cover his ample figure!’

  An orchestra gave a two-part concert in the rotunda every evening at eight o’clock and, after listening to the performance, Lady Birchley’s party strolled in groups along the pathways, chattering and laughing and enjoying the fun and excitement of being in a group of exuberant young people.

  There was so much to excite their senses. Famous singers, actors and actresses performed in decorated booths and jugglers and illusionists performed their acts. The evening sped by and in no time at all, it seemed, they were gathering together for supper, held in a number of supper-boxes that Lady Birchley had hired for her party. Each one held six or eight people and waiters served delicious slivers of ham or chicken and exotic salads. The older revellers drank burnt-wine or sampled the famous arrack-punch, which was far too strong for the younger revellers, who were guided to the selections of ratafia and light punches.

  Supper was just over when a burst of golden sparks lit the darkened sky.

  ‘Oh, the fireworks are starting!’ Lucy’s friend Eliza exclaimed. ‘Do come, Lucy!’ She grabbed hold of Lucy’s hand. ‘We’ll see them much better in the open.’

  The two girls, followed by others, hurried down the steps and were soon caught up in a throng of people jostling for better positions to see the fireworks display. Every time a new cascade of shining stars illuminated the sky, gasps of ‘Ooh!’ and ‘Aah!’ were breathed into the night air. The atmosphere was magical.

  A crush of people behind Lucy pushed her forward and she lost hold of Eliza’s hand. As soon as she could slip sideways out of the press she did so and looked around for the light-blue domino of her friend, but she couldn’t see her. People were still moving forward and she let them overtake her, hoping that Eliza would soon be back by her side.

  The crowd was good-humoured and Lucy wasn’t worried about being separated from Eliza and the others whom she knew
, but, suddenly, a hand grasped her arm and a male voice hissed, ‘Quick! Come this way!’

  ‘What? Who are you?’ Lucy tried to pull away and she turned to try to identify who was holding on to her.

  It was a man in a black domino and only the lower part of his face was visible and that not very clear in the twilight.

  Lucy couldn’t remember any men of their party dressed in such a way, but maybe she was mistaken in that. She laughed a little hesitantly, trying to pull her arm free of his hold. ‘Come, sir! Don’t tease. We are missing the firework display.’

  But when he didn’t respond, pulling her instead further into the grove of trees, she began to feel alarmed. They had all been warned that pickpockets roamed the grounds looking for likely victims. Was that whom her attacker was? Was he hoping to rob her? If so, he was destined to be unlucky!

  ‘Let go of me!’ she demanded indignantly, trying to stop him pulling her deeper into the grove. ‘I have no money upon my person. How dare you treat me so! Unhand me at once!’

  The noise of the revellers faded, and now in a small clearing, Lucy felt herself pulled into an embrace.

  ‘Ah, cara mia!’ the man spoke at last. ‘At last we can be together!’

  Lucy froze. She remembered that voice and the Italian phrase. ‘Mario?’ she questioned, unable to quite believe what was happening. ‘What are you doing? I want nothing to do with you! Let go of me at once so that I may return to my friends!’

  ‘Ah, my leetle Lucy! How I have missed you since we were so cruelly torn apart! I have languished for you these past months! Do you not remember how you used to melt into my arms? How you used to long for me to be able to kiss you and make you my own? And now we can!’

  Lucy tried to pull away. ‘I remember how you demanded money from my father in return for your silence!’ she cried indignantly. ‘Not one word of love did you declare then!’

  Mario shrugged. ‘I knew it would be of no use, my leetle love. Your father was intent on separating us. But now, we have the chance to elope. I have been watching you and waiting for this chance. We can be on our way immediately. Come, my darling! My chaise is ready by Westminster Bridge. Come!’

  He tried to draw her with him but when Lucy stood her ground, his voice grew impatient. ‘You know it is what you have longed for. I have heard about the delightful Miss Templeton refusing all offers of marriage from some very eligible suitors.’ His voice softened again, as he added, ‘Ah, how I exulted to hear it. I knew you were waiting for me. What can all those young puppies hope to offer you, when you have tasted the excitement of real love?’

  Lucy was speechless. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She drew herself erect. ‘Those young puppies, as you describe them, at least know the correct way to approach the lady of their choice! And, no, I haven’t refused the offers of marriage with you in mind. I am happy to say I realized how shallow you are many months ago and I have absolutely no feelings of love left for you!’ She remembered a word her father had used about this man. ‘You are a charlatan, sir! Now, release me and allow me to return to my friends and …’ – her heart suddenly quailed and she began to feel the first stirrings of fear – ‘… and we will forget this incident ever happened.’

  She heard him suck in his breath, then, ‘Ah, no! That cannot be. You see, I need money and you, my little sweeting, are my means of getting it!’ All traces of an Italian accent were gone and the mouth below the black mask twisted unpleasantly.

  Before Lucy could react, Mario pulled her roughly to him and brutally covered her mouth with his. This was no pleasant kiss. His lips were hard and he thrust his tongue into her mouth forcefully, harshly plundering the sweetness of it. Whilst Lucy’s senses were still reeling, he whirled her body around and pushed her hard against the trunk of a tree. Immediately, he thrust his knee between her legs, pinning her body between the tree and himself.

  Lucy fought him. She tore the domino from his head and yanked hard at his hair. Mario responded by pulling back her hood, dislodging the pins that held her hair in place and grasping hold of her hair in both his hands. The pain brought tears to Lucy’s eyes and she tried to pull his hands away. ‘Help me! Someone, help me!’ she cried out.

  Mario immediately slapped her face, knocking her head against the tree trunk. She almost passed out and feared she would be ravished by this unprincipled man.

  Through the haze that seemed to have seeped into her mind she heard a voice call out from beyond the shrubbery, ‘Hello? Is anyone there?’

  Mario covered her mouth with his hand but Lucy bit hard into it. As he pulled his hand away, she cried out, ‘Help me! I’m being attacked!’

  She heard an oath, followed by the sounds of someone forcing their way through the shrubbery towards them. She felt weak with relief. As the tension slipped out of her body, Mario viciously thrust her aside and she felt herself falling to the ground.

  ‘You’ll be sorry for this! I’ll see you ruined!’ Mario snarled, and, after a vicious kick at her crumpled body, he crashed away in the opposite direction from her rescuer.

  Five

  IF LUCY HAD been tempted to think that her troubles were over because she had been rescued from her would-be abductor, she was soon disillusioned. Her rescuer was one of their own party who had been sent to look for her, and others were quickly upon the scene. They were shocked to find her lying crumpled on the ground with her domino torn, her gown dishevelled and dirty, and her hair tousled about her head.

  Lucy tried to rise, but the pain from Mario’s kick made the movement too painful and it was Viscount Hugh Wymont who lifted her up into his arms and carried her back to the path from where she had been dragged. Although he had made some attempt to tidy her gown around her, the sorry state of her person and attire was obvious to all and Lucy heard shocked gasps from some of the ladies present.

  Indeed, some of the mamas in attendance hurriedly placed themselves between their daughters and the distressing sight Miss Templeton presented and ushered their daughters from the scene, but Lucy’s friend Eliza pushed herself forward to reach her friend, whose limp form still draped in Lord Wymont’s arms.

  ‘Lucy! Whatever happened? One minute you were by my side and the next you were gone! I couldn’t find you! Oh, my goodness!’ Her eyes widened as she took in Lucy’s dishevelled state. ‘W-What happened?’ she whispered in shocked tones.

  ‘I … I was attacked,’ Lucy said faintly, gulping back tears that threatened to erupt. At least she had the presence of mind not to name her attacker at this point. She felt too embarrassed to have been so taken in by him the year before and was shocked by his present callous treatment of her. She felt as though she were in the midst of a nightmare and all she wanted to do was to wake up and find it had indeed been a dream. No such escape was allowed her.

  Lady Templeton, having been earlier alerted by Eliza to her daughter’s disappearance, arrived on the scene, her mind a mixture of anxiety at the reports of Lucy’s disappearance, relief at her return, and a foreboding of the damage the incident would do to Lucy’s reputation. She took immediate charge, sending one of the younger men to alert their coachman that their carriage was required forthwith and bade Viscount Wymont carry her daughter to the pick-up point. She postponed her recriminations until they were in the privacy of their home.

  Lucy sobbed in her mother’s arms throughout the journey and, although she managed, with some assistance, to hobble up the steps and into the house, once she was inside, she collapsed on to the tiled floor and was carried upstairs to her room by two of the footmen, who lost no time in reporting below stairs that the young mistress had been brought home in a sorry state of distress and disarray.

  With tight lips, Lady Templeton ordered hot water to be brought upstairs so that Lucy could be bathed and was shocked by the bruises that were already beginning to form on Lucy’s abdomen and hip.

  ‘Who was he?’ she demanded. ‘Did you manage to get a good look at him?’

  Lucy gulped back her
tears. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  ‘Good. We must alert the Runners. Do you think you could describe him to them?’

  Lucy nodded her head faintly, knowing her answer would be of no comfort to her mother. ‘It was Mario Vitali,’ she whispered. ‘He pulled me into the shrubbery and tried to entice me to elope with him.’

  ‘Elope with him? Lucy! Whatever have you done?’ Her mama’s voice rose to a wail. ‘How could you be so disobedient as to meet with that man?’

  ‘I didn’t, Mama! I didn’t! He said he had been watching me and had been waiting his chance to entice me away! He thought …’ Her voice choked on the words. ‘He thought I was still in love with him. But I’m not! You and Papa were right. He is a cheat and a deceiver. He isn’t even Italian! Even that was false! I hate him!’

  Her mother looked at her carefully. ‘Lucy, you must tell me. Did he…? Did he hurt you? In a more intimate way, I mean?’

  Blushing at her mama’s words, Lucy shook her head. ‘No … he meant to entice me into a carriage so that we could elope. He was angry when I refused and struggled against him. He threw me to the ground and kicked me out of sheer spite. Oh, Mama, it was horrible! I don’t think I shall ever trust a man again!’

  Lady Templeton tightened her lips grimly. ‘After tonight’s episode, you may never be given the chance, Lucy. Word will get round, you know. And it will lose nothing in the telling. I’m afraid Society will shun you from now on.’

  ‘But it wasn’t my fault, Mama! I truly didn’t know he would be there. It was quite by chance that Eliza and I were separated in the crush to see the fireworks … and I fought against him. I did! Nothing really happened!’