by Gayle Buck
The young lady looked up quickly. A flush mounted into her face. “Forgive me, ma’am! I did not perfectly notice you.”
“I am not very noticeable,” said Abby swiftly, trying her best to mitigate the girl’s obvious embarrassment.
“Pray forgive my daughter’s impetuosity, ma’am,” said the older lady, coming up and glancing reprovingly at her daughter. “She sometimes acts before she thinks.”
“It’s quite all right,” said Abby, beginning to feel embarrassed in her turn. She held out her gloved hand. “I am Miss Abby Fairchilde.”
“How do you do? I am Lady Darlington, and this is my daughter Lady Bethany Hart,” said Lady Darlington, obviously relieved that the awkward moment was to be passed over in a civilized fashion.
“Darlington?” Abby turned to the young girl, who stood by, biting her rosy under lip. “Then, you are Lord Darlington’s sister. I understand you are coming out this Season.”
“Why, yes,” said Lady Bethany in surprise. She glanced at her mother, then back again to ask curiously, “Have you met my brother, ma’am?”
“We met last Season and Lord Darlington was kind enough to renew our acquaintance when he saw me at Almack’s.” Abby nearly stammered with the warmth of pure pleasure it gave her to offer that explanation. She still couldn’t believe that Lord Darlington had recalled her name, let alone asked her to dance.
A speculative gleam entered Lady Bethany’s eyes, but if she had been about to comment, her mother forestalled her.
“Miss Fairchilde, it is indeed a pleasure to run into one of Sylvan’s friends,” said Lady Darlington, pressing Abby’s hand warmly as she smiled.
Abby was startled by the construction her ladyship had placed on her matter-of-fact statement. “Oh, but I’m not—”
“I’m having a small soiree for Lady Bethany soon. I would be delighted if you could come, Miss Fairchilde,” said Lady Darlington.
Abby was beginning to demur when Lady Bethany stuck in her oar. “Oh, do say that you will! I should like it! I don’t know another soul in London, you see. And it is the least I can do to make amends when I have behaved so rudely.”
Abby’s tender heart was touched. She thought she understood a young girl’s trepidation upon first being presented to society, even if it was in the context of a small soiree. She smiled and nodded. “Very well, I shall, if it is convenient to my sister. My sister and brother-in-law, the Crockers, are sponsoring me, you see, and I must ask Melissa whether there are any previous obligations.”
“Of course. We understand perfectly,” said Lady Darlington, nodding. “Perhaps it would be best if I send an informal invitation round to your direction. Or better yet, shall I call on Mrs. Crocker and make myself known to her?”
“I think that would be quite acceptable, my lady.” Abby gave the address to the town house and soon thereafter parted from the chance-met ladies.
Once having made her small purchase, she and her maid left the milliner’s shop and reentered their carriage. Abby spent the few minutes in returning to the town house in pleasant reflection, smiling to herself. The Dowager Lady Darlington appeared to be a very amiable lady, while her attractive daughter, Lady Bethany, was as spirited and outspoken as Abby wished she could be. She thought she would enjoy a gathering at Darlington Place, especially if his lordship was playing host. She had liked Lord Darlington upon first meeting him the previous Season. Her perception of him had not been revised. After overhearing the conversation between Lady Darlington and Lady Bethany, she had a lively interest in observing Lord Darlington in his role as the head of his family, for apparently his mother and sister relied on him greatly.
Chapter Six
When Abby returned to the town house, she was met with the intelligence that Lord Fielding was sitting with her sister. Easily reading between the lines, Abby looked with dismay at the butler. “Oh, dear! Have they been waiting this age for me?”
“The tea tray was taken in ten minutes ago, miss,” said the butler austerely. When he saw her expression deepen to apprehension and her quick look toward the closed door of the sitting room, he unbent slightly. “I was intending to refresh the pot just before you came in, miss.”
Abby sent a grateful glance to the butler. It was an open secret among the servants that she dreaded being the object of concerted attention. She was well liked so that the household went to pains to spare her painful shyness.
Abby took off her bonnet, giving it along with her reticule to her maid, and smoothed her hair at the hall mirror. By the time she felt herself to be ready, the butler had acquired a fresh pot of tea and opened the sitting room door for them both. Thus Abby was able to enter the room without feeling she was the focus of attention.
“Abby, there you are! I was beginning to be anxious,” said Mrs. Crocker.
Abby went forward to hug her sister. “I have just returned from choosing ribbons for my straw,” she said. As an astonished expression crossed her sister’s face, she turned to extend her hand to their guest. “Good afternoon, my lord.”
Lord Fielding, who had risen promptly upon her entrance, took her hand and bowed, brushing his lips over her fingers. Straightening, he smiled down at her from his great height. “Miss Fairchilde! Perceive me a happy man and at your service. You have but to command me.”
Abby flushed and hurried into speech to cover her confusion over his lordship’s flowery greeting. “Th-thank you, my lord! I shall certainly keep it in mind. I cannot quite conceive what I could possibly— That is to say—” She cast an imploring glance at her sister.
Mrs. Crocker easily rose to the occasion. “Pray sit down, Abby. You will wish tea after your shopping jaunt, I expect. Lord Fielding was just relaying a very interesting tale to me. My lord, you simply must repeat it for Abby’s sake, for I am positive she must find it as diverting as I have.”
Lord Fielding was nothing loath. Abby accepted a cup of sweetened tea from her sister’s hands, all the while regarding her suitor with an expression of polite interest as he shared the latest news. She chuckled when she thought it appropriate, even though the point of the convoluted story was quite lost on her. She had a hazy notion of impropriety, though what was so shocking about a wager being lost on a goose race, she was quite at a loss to say. She understood that gentlemen made wagers on all sorts of things, and certainly geese sounded a bit more tame than horse racing or cockfights.
When his lordship had wound up his tale, Abby smiled at him. She knew that it behooved her to say an appropriate word. “That was indeed diverting, my lord.”
Gratified, Lord Fielding bowed from his sitting position. “I am always happy when my efforts to entertain you find favor, Miss Fairchilde. Would it be presumptuous of me to invite you, along with Mr. and Mrs. Crocker and your mother and aunt, of course, to join a small dinner party that I am getting up for Vauxhall Gardens?”
Abby looked at her sister for guidance. Mrs. Crocker inclined her head slightly, a smile on her lips. Abby smiled again at Lord Fielding. “We shall be delighted to accept, my lord.”
Lord Fielding nodded as though he had not expected any other answer. “I shall send round a formal invitation, naturally. Now, I must take my leave for fear of wearing out my welcome.”
As Mrs. Crocker extended her hand to Lord Fielding, she said, “You could never do so, my lord.”
“You are too kind, ma’am,” said Lord Fielding while looking at Abby.
She hurried into speech. “We always enjoy your company, my lord.”
“One thing only would make me any happier, Miss Fairchilde, and that is to hear that you enjoy my company,” said Lord Fielding, lowering his voice to a more intimate note as he took her hand.
Abby blushed and began to lose herself in an inarticulate assurance. Lord Fielding was visibly satisfied. He bowed again to both ladies and made his exit.
Mrs. Crocker turned to her sister and smiled. “Abby, Lord Fielding is completely smitten with you. We shall be entertaining a suit for your hand be
fore much longer, I do assure you.”
“Perhaps,” said Abby with a vague air of agreement. She wished to change the subject to one less likely to bring a wave of uncertainty to her mind. “Melissa, you shall never guess whom I chanced to meet at the milliner’s shop. It was the oddest thing, especially when Lord Fielding was talking about them just the other day. Lady Darlington was there with her daughter. They were choosing fabrics for gowns and such for Lady Bethany’s come-out. I thought both to be quite personable.”
“You actually spoke with them?” asked Mrs. Crocker in surprise.
Abby gave a laugh, understanding her sister’s amazement. “I suppose it was a bit out of character for me to strike up a conversation with strangers. However, I was perfectly comfortable, and Lady Darlington was extremely kind. I invited her ladyship and Lady Bethany to call on us at tea one day.” Abby was suddenly struck with doubt. “I hope that is all right?”
“Of course it is, Abby. You know you may extend an invitation to anyone you choose,” said Mrs. Crocker, adding, “I am only astonished that Lady Darlington was so willing to take you up. Surely her ladyship has her own set of friends.”
“It—it is because I admitted to being acquainted with Lord Darlington, I think,” said Abby, wrinkling her brows a little. “Lady Darlington mistook me to mean that we were very well acquainted with his lordship. In fact, she has said that she will send us an invitation to Lady Bethany’s first soiree.”
Mrs. Crocker now stared at her sister in a good deal of astonishment. “My word, Abby! We, the intimates of the Marquess of Darlington! However did you manage to leave such an erroneous impression!”
“I honestly haven’t a clue,” said Abby with the flicker of a smile. She looked anxiously at her sister. “I am sorry if you don’t like it, Melissa.”
Mrs. Crocker shook her head, frowning a little. “It isn’t that I don’t like it, Abby, it is what Lord Darlington must think when his lady mother informs him of our supposed friendship! I shouldn’t wish for his lordship to conclude you were trading on his name.”
Abby stared at her sister, appalled. “Oh, dear! The one time I do manage to hold a polite conversation without becoming tangled in my own words, and I make such a mull of it!”
Mrs. Crocker laughed and reached out to pat her hand. “Never mind, Abby! It will all turn out for the best, I am persuaded. Lady Darlington will undoubtedly realize her mistake and neglect to send the invitation or some such thing. Truthfully, I would be relieved, for I cannot like the association even if the Darlingtons are well connected.”
Abby was surprised. “How can you say that, Melissa, when you have not met Lady Darlington and her daughter? I thought them perfectly respectable.”
Mrs. Crocker shook her head. “It is not her ladyship nor her daughter of whom I am thinking, but Lord Darlington. You must know, Abby, that Peter thinks his lordship to be a veritable fop. I own, there is something about the marquess that I cannot quite like. He has a cold, arrogant air, a care-for-naught way about him that sets my teeth on edge. He is nothing like Lord Fielding, who can be depended upon to always be the perfect gentleman.”
“Oh, but—” Abby started to speak a defense of Lord Darlington, but before the words had half formed on her tongue, she met her sister’s inquiring gaze and she fell silent. She had not found Lord Darlington to be either cold or arrogant. He had recalled her perfectly to mind and had gone out of his way to greet her after only a brief introduction the previous Season. His behavior did not fit the picture that her sister had just painted of him. Nor did the manner in which his lordship’s mother and sister had spoken of him.
“What were you about to say, Abby?” asked Mrs. Crocker.
“It was nothing, nothing at all,” murmured Abby, sighing over her own craven lack of spirit. After all, her sister and brother-in-law were so much more worldly and assured than she was. They were looking out for her best interests, and she was truly grateful to them, for she could never have contemplated going through another Season without their staunch support. She had no business running counter to their opinions when her own mattered so little.
“If you are thinking that we should not reject Lady Darlington’s offer of friendship out of hand, you are perfectly right. Indeed, it would be the height of rudeness to turn down such an invitation if we were to actually receive it,” said Mrs. Crocker.
“Yes, that was what I was thinking,” agreed Abby, feeling a spurt of gladness and relief going through her.
“You see, Abby? You needn’t be afraid of airing your thoughts. I promise you that I shall always listen,” said Mrs. Crocker with a softened, fond expression.
“You are very good to me, both you and Peter,” said Abby in a rush of gratitude. “Mama and Aunt could never have done even a tenth for me!”
“Quite so,” said Mrs. Crocker wryly. She rose from the settee. “Why don’t we go upstairs to see whether Mama and Aunt are still enthralled in their usual game? If so, I don’t think it would come amiss to remind them that we are to change for dinner soon. Besides, I haven’t yet had the opportunity to see the ribbons you bought.”
Abby went willingly out of the sitting room, arm in arm with her sister. “I hope you like the color, Melissa. I do think the ribbons will be perfect to refurbish my straw bonnet. But you must judge for yourself!”
“Well, let us go up and see,” said Mrs. Crocker, smiling.
They were to go to the theater that evening, an outing that Abby always looked forward to with excitement. She loved to watch the playacting onstage, sitting in her chair enthralled from the moment the curtain was raised until the instant it was lowered.
She was disappointed when the intermission interrupted her pleasure. She agreed with good grace to her brother-in-law’s announcement that he and her sister were going to promenade, and if she didn’t care to go with them, she would be perfectly safe remaining in the box with her mother and aunt.
“Of course, do go,” said Abby. “I know how rarely you and Peter have an opportunity to be together.”
Mrs. Crocker laughingly agreed and went off happily with her husband. The door had not been shut for very many minutes when there was a knock on it.
Abby looked at her mother. Mrs. Fairchilde raised her frail voice to give permission for the visitor to enter. To Abby’s astonishment, it was Lord Darlington, escorting his mother and sister.
Lady Darlington greeted Abby with a friendly manner. “Bethany saw you in the box and begged us to bring her over. I hope we are not intruding?”
“Of course not, my lady! Pray allow me to make you known to my mother, Mrs. Fairchilde, and her sister, Mrs. Paddington,” said Abby. The ladies exchanged murmured greetings and bows. “My lord, I believe you met my mother and aunt last Season at Almack’s.”
“Indeed I did,” said Lord Darlington, bowing over each of the elderly ladies’ hands.
Abby’s aunt peered up at the marquess with appraising eyes. “Quite the buck,” she remarked. She slewed around in her chair to address her niece. “I like him,” she said decidedly.
As Abby’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, she avoided Lord Darlington’s glance. A giggle from beside her made her turn her head.
“I am so glad to see that I am not the only one with relations bent upon embarrassing me,” said Lady Bethany behind her hand, her eyes gleaming with amusement.
Abby could not help responding with a smile. In a lowered voice she said, “Yes, I suppose we must all have one or two, Lady Bethany.”
“Oh, that sounds so stuffy between friends! Lady Bethany! We are going to be friends, aren’t we? Pray do call me Bethany!”
Abby was slightly taken aback by the impulsive, impatient note in the beauty’s voice. But when she looked into the younger girl’s face, she saw that Lady Bethany was being perfectly sincere. “I hope we shall be friends, indeed,” she said shyly.
“Good! I am glad. I liked you on first meeting, and I am never wrong about someone,” said Lady Bethany with a brillian
t smile. Her attention at that instant was claimed by an inquiry from Lady Darlington, who had fallen into easy conversation with Mrs. Fairchilde and Mrs. Paddington.
Lord Darlington took the opportunity to sit down in the vacant chair beside Abby. He glanced at her, a smile on his almost perfectly featured face. Looking at him, Abby thought that his could almost have been called an effeminate face, except for the determined mouth and chin, the undoubted shadow of beard in his lean cheeks, and the bold way he looked at one.
As she realized that Lord Darlington was studying her with as much interest as she was him, she flushed to the roots of her hair. She dropped her eyes in confusion. “Oh! I am s-sorry!”
He touched her hand lightly. “Pray don’t be afraid of me, Miss Fairchilde. I am accounted a cold fellow by many, but I assure you that I would not deliberately put you out of countenance.”
“Oh, no! I am certain you would not,” said Abby hurriedly, raising her eyes to meet his unreadable gaze. “It is just that I am so stupidly backward, you see. I color up at the least provocation.”
“I shall take care not to provoke you, then,” said Lord Darlington, a slight smile touching his thin lips. “Are you enjoying the play?”
Abby was grateful to him for offering a safe topic and casually turning aside her attack of discomfort. She was able therefore to converse quite easily with him for several minutes. The time passed swiftly. She was surprised when the door to the box opened and her sister and brother-in-law reentered. “Oh! The curtain must be about to rise again.”
Lord Darlington rose to his feet. He reached down for her hand, and when she hesitantly gave it to him, he carried it to his lips in elegant salute. His gaze commanding hers, he said quietly, “I have enjoyed our conversation, Miss Fairchilde.”
“And I, my lord,” said Abby shyly, smiling up at him.
Within a few minutes, which were a flurry of renewed introductions to the Crockets and leave-taking, the Darlington party exited to return to their own box. When the door was shut, Mr. Crocker turned to his wife. With a heavy frown he asked, “What was that fellow doing here?”