Miss Winthorpe's Elopement

by Christine Merrill

  And what was she to do for the rest of the afternoon, trapped here? If she had known his intent was to abandon her, she’d have brought something to read. She stepped off the street and into the shop.

  A girl dropped the copy of Le Beau Monde that she had been paging through and sprang to her feet behind a small gold desk. She said, with a thick French accent, ‘May I be of assistance, your ladyship?’

  The girl sounded so hopeful, that Penny found it almost pleasurable to introduce herself with her new title. It made the girl’s eyes go round for a moment, and then her face fell.

  ‘Your Grace? I believe there has been a misunderstanding. You husband the duke must have been seeking my predecessor in this shop.’

  ‘There is no Madame Giselle, as it says on the door?’

  The woman laughed. ‘Unfortunately, no. Until her death, she was my employer. She had been in this location for many years.’

  ‘And before she died, you were…’

  ‘A seamstress, your Grace. Madame died suddenly. There was no family to take the shop, and many orders still to fill. It made sense to step out from the back room and become Madame Giselle, in her absence.’ The French accent had disappeared to reveal the Londoner underneath. Apparently, she’d taken more than the shop when she’d come out from the back room.

  The girl took her silence as hesitation. ‘We are not as fashionable as we once were, I’m afraid. I will understand, of course, that you prefer to go elsewhere. I can recommend several excellent modistes who are frequented by the ladies of your class.’

  If she was not careful, she’d get her chance to shop with Clarissa. Penny’s eyebrows arched in surprise. ‘No wonder you are not as busy as you should be. For when one is in trade, one should never turn down commerce, especially an order as large as the one I am likely to make.’ When she had come into the shop, she had had no intention of spending money. But suddenly, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.

  ‘A large order?’ the dressmaker repeated, dumbly.

  ‘Yes. Day dresses, travelling clothes, outerwear and ball gowns. I need everything.’

  ‘Do you wish to look at swatches?’

  She gritted her teeth. ‘It does not matter. Choose whatever you wish. And styles as well. I do not have any idea how to proceed.’ And then she prepared for the worst.

  The girl ran her through her paces, draping her in fabrics, and experimenting with laces and trims. And Penny had to admit that it was not as bad as it could have been, for the girl made no attempt to force her into gowns that did not flatter, but chose clothes that would suit her, rather than poking and pinching to get her to fit the fashion.

  The choice of shops had been most fortunate, although Adam could not have known it. Now if she could find a way around the inconvenience of dinner and dancing for a hundred or so of her husband’s friends… The man was cracked if he thought he could use his mother’s guest lists. The names on it were likely to be as dead as her modiste.

  Penny glanced down at the girl, who was crouched at her feet, setting a hem in the peach muslin gown Penny was modelling. ‘Giselle?’

  ‘My real name is Sarah, your Grace,’ she said, around a mouthful of pins. ‘Not as grand as it should be. But there is no point in hiding the truth.’

  ‘Sarah, then. Do you have family in service?’

  ‘My mother is housekeeper at Lord Broxton’s house.’

  One of her husband’s adversaries in Parliament, but closely matched in society. It would do to go on with. ‘It seems, Sarah, that I am to throw a ball. But I am no more born to be a duchess than you were born a Frenchwoman. If I had guest lists and menus from a similar party, it would help me immensely. No one need know, of course. And I would be willing to pay, handsomely.’

  Jem was summoned from the street and given a note from Sarah, and directions to the Broxtons’ kitchen door.

  He was back in a little more than an hour, with a tightly folded packet of papers containing names and addresses of the cream of London society, and the menus for a variety of events.

  Penny sat comfortably on a stool in the back room and smiled at Sarah, who was throwing a hem into another sample gown. ‘This is turning out to be a surprisingly productive trip, and not the total waste of time I had suspected. If I am careful, and can avoid any more of my husband’s outlandish plans for me, I might still manage an hour or two of work.’

  Adam would no doubt be irate when he saw the clothing that that woman was making for her. It did not in any way remind her of the dresses worn by the ladies of his circle. The colours for evening were pale, and the sprigged muslins she had chosen for day dresses hardly seemed the thing for a duchess.

  Although just what duchesses wore during the day, Penny was unsure. Whatever they liked, most likely.

  She gritted her teeth again. Or whatever their husband insisted they wear. But Sarah had seemed to know her business, despite the lack of customers. She had loaded Penny up with such things as were ready, more than enough petticoats, bonnets, and a few day dresses that had been made for samples, but fit so well they might have been tailored for her.

  She inquired of the total, not daring to imagine how much she might have spent.

  She saw the wistful look in the girl’s eye as she said, ‘The bills will be sent to your husband, of course. You needn’t worry about anything, your Grace.’

  Of course not. For nobility did not have to concern themselves with a thing so mundane as money. But she had taken much of the poor girl’s sample stock, and there would be silks to buy, and lace, and ribbon to complete the order.

  And since she was the Duchess of Bellston, it could all be had on credit while the false Madame Giselle found a way to pay her creditors with aristocratic air. Her husband, who had been so eager for this wardrobe, would send the girl some money in his own good time. She must manage as she could until then.

  Penny reached into her reticule, and removed a pack of folded bank notes, counting out a thick stack. ‘Here, my dear. This should go a fair way in covering the materials you will need. You may send the balance directly to my bank for immediate payment. Do not hesitate to contact me, should you need more. If I must do this at all, I would that it be done right and wish you to spare no expense.’

  She saw the visible sag of relief, and the broadening of the smile on the face of the modiste.

  When the carriage returned, and Jem saw the pile of boxes, he looked at her with suspicion, and gestured to an underfootman to throw them on to the carriage and tie them down. ‘I’m to spend all my time, now that you’re a “her Grace” two steps back and carrying your ribbons?’

  ‘If it makes you feel better, Jem, think of it as charity work, just as my brother always wanted me to do. Or perhaps as economic investment in a small business.’

  Jem stared sceptically at the boxes. ‘I’m thinking, at least ladies’ dresses are lighter than books.’

  ‘Well, then. You have nothing to complain about.’

  She had chosen to wear one of her new dresses home, a simple thing in pale pink muslin, with a rose-coloured spencer. The matching bonnet was a work of extreme foolishness, with a shirred back and a cascade of ribbons, but it seemed to suit the dress and she did not mind it overmuch. When she walked up the steps to the townhouse, it was a moment before the man at the door recognised her, and smiled before bowing deep.

  Very well. The transformation must be startling. Adam would be pleased. She was certain of it. And he would admire the way she had managed the ball with a minimum of effort.

  And then she remembered it did not matter at all to her what Adam thought. The whole of this production was an attempt to fool society into believing in their sham marriage, and put up a united front for his spurned lover, Clarissa.

  If she was truly spurned. It was quite possible that Penny had wandered on to the scene in the middle of a contretemps and things would be returning to their despicable normal state at any time. If she allowed herself to care too much about her husband�
�s good opinion, she would feel the pain of his indifference when he was through with her.

  She hardened her heart, and walked down the hall to her husband’s study, pushing open the door without knocking.

  He was not alone. Lord Timothy was there as well. They had been deep in discussion over something, but it came to a halt, as she entered. ‘I have returned. As Madame Giselle would say, “C’est fini”.’ The men stared at her as she pulled the bonnet from her head and dropped it on to her husband’s desk. She reached into her reticule and removed the papers. ‘Here is the list of guests for your ball. Add any names I have missed to the bottom of the list. Dinner will be buffet, but there will be no oysters, because it is too late in the season. You have but to choose a date. You know your social schedule better than I. For my part, I mean to be studying every night, for the foreseeable future. Which means any night you choose for this ball is equally inconvenient.

  ‘Once you have decided, send the cursed guest list to the printer yourself. If you do not know where I wish you to take it, I will tell you, in no uncertain terms.’ She looked down her nose at her husband, in what she hoped was a creditable imitation of a ton lady. ‘Is that satisfactory, your Grace?’

  Her husband stared at her in shocked silence. Lord Timothy grinned at her in frank admiration and supplied, ‘Oh, yes. I should think so.’

  ‘Very well, then. I shall retire, in my mildly pink dress, to my incredibly pink sitting room, put my feet on a cushion and read Gothic novels. I do not wish to be disturbed.’ She turned to cross the hall, only to have Tim bound ahead of her to open the door.

  Before it shut behind her, she heard a noise from the study that sounded suspiciously like a growl.

  Chapter Twelve

  Adam stared through the open door of his study at the closed door across the hall. The silence emanating from the room was like a wall, laid across the threshold to bar his entrance. She spoke to him no more than was necessary, ate in her rooms and politely refused all visitors. She had succeeded in achieving the marital state that they had agreed on, allowing herself total solitude, and deeding complete freedom to him. He could do as he wanted in all things. His life was largely unchanged from the one he had before the marriage, with the exception of a near-unlimited supply of funds.

  Why did he find it so vexing?

  Perhaps because he had grown tired of that life, and had been quite ready to end it by any means available. Sick to death of playing, by turns, the wit, the lover or the buffoon for a series of false friends. Bone weary of dodging the insistent affections of Clarissa, who refused to believe that he looked back on their affair with regret and self-disgust.

  And Tim, still at his side as a true friend and adviser. He chose to play the absentminded academic, more interested in his books and his conservatory than in the people around him. He pretended no knowledge of what had occurred between Adam and his wife, until such moments as he let slip an idle comment or odd turn of phrase to prove he knew exactly what had occurred, and was disappointed, but not particularly surprised.

  Adam had hoped that the introduction of Penelope to his life might lead to a lasting change. She had qualities most unlike the other women of his set: sweetness, sincerity and a mind inquisitive for things deeper than the latest fashion. And she had seemed, for a time, to hold him in respect. He must present a much different picture in The Times than he did in reality. For though she claimed to respect Bellston, the politician, it had taken her a week to become as disgusted with Bellston, the man, as he was himself.

  A servant entered, offering him a calling card on a silver tray.

  Hector Winthorpe.

  It was some consolation to see that the card was impeccably done, for Adam had sent the invitations for the ball to the Winthorpe shop. And he had grudgingly added Hector’s name to the bottom of the guest list, as a good faith gesture. The man would not fit, but what could be done? Hector was family and they must both get used to it. But what the devil was he doing, coming to the house now?

  Adam gave his permission to the servant and in a moment, Hector entered the room without making a bow, then stood too close to the desk, making every effort to tower over him.

  Adam responded with his most frosty expression and said, ‘If you are searching for your sister, she is across the hall. But it is pointless to try, for she refuses visitors when she is at work.’

  ‘You have had no better luck with her than I did, I see, if she is shut up alone in a library. But I did not come for her. I wish to speak to you.’

  ‘State your business, then.’

  ‘It is about this, your Grace.’ There was no respect or subservience in the title, as the man slapped the invitation to the ball on the desk in front of him.

  ‘A written response of regrets would have been sufficient.’

  ‘Regrets? It is you, sir, who should have regrets.’

  Adam stared back, angry, but curious. ‘And what precisely should I regret, Hector? Marrying your sister? For I find I have surprisingly few regrets where she is concerned.’

  Hector sniffed in disapproval. ‘Because she has given you your way in all things, I suppose. And because you care naught for her happiness, you have no guilt of the fact. If you felt anything at all for her, you would know better than this.’

  Adam stared down at the invitation, truly baffled now. ‘I fail to see what is so unusual about a small gathering to celebrate our nuptials.’

  ‘Small?’ Hector shook his head. ‘For you, perhaps. But for my sister, any gathering over two is a substantial crowd.’

  ‘That is ridiculous. I have noticed no problems.’ Which was a lie, but he could not give the man the upper hand so easily.

  Hector let out a disgusted snort. ‘If you noticed no problems with my sister, it is because she is a proud woman, and does not wish to admit to them. Did you not think it strange that she wanted nothing more from you than a chance to lock herself in her study and read?’

  ‘Not overly,’ he lied again, thinking of his first suspicions of her.

  ‘Or that an argument over something so simple as a book would drive her to such extreme action as marrying a total stranger?’

  There was nothing he could say that would cover the situation, and he certainly could not tell the whole truth, which reflected badly on the man’s sister as well as himself. ‘It has not proved a problem thus far.’ He turned the argument back upon its sender. ‘Do you think she chose unwisely?’ And then he waited for the apology that must surely come.

  ‘Yes, I do, if you mean to trot her out before your friends as some sort of vulgar joke.’

  ‘How dare you, sir!’

  Hector continued to be unabashed by the situation. ‘It was too late, by the time she brought you to our home, to insist that you answer this question. But what are your intentions toward my sister, if not to make her the butt of your jokes?’

  Adam smiled bitterly. ‘I do not mean to fritter away her fortune, as you were doing. You were keeping her unmarried and under your control so that you could pour her money into your business.’

  The shot hit home, and he saw rage in Hector’s eyes. ‘I am not proud of the fact that the business is in trouble, sir. And I did, indeed, borrow the money from her trust without inquiring of her first. It was wrong of me, for certain. But I did not need to keep her unmarried to plunder her fortune. She did quite a fine job of scaring away any potential mates when she had her come-out. Her subsequent isolation was all her own doing. As of late, it had become quite out of hand. When I attempted to correct her on this, she lost her temper and went to Scotland. Apparently, she was looking for any fool that would have her. And she found you.’ Hector said the word as though his sister had crossed the border and picked up not a husband, but some exotic disease.

  Adam refused to rise to the bait. ‘She can be rash, of course. But I fail to see what is so serious in her behaviour that would cause you to censure her or deny her simple purchases. It was wrong of you, just as was the theft of he
r money.’

  ‘What do you know of her social life before you married her?’

  Adam tried to think of anything he could say that would make him sound like he was an active participant in his own marriage, who had taken the time to get to know his wife, either before of after the ceremony. At last he said, ‘Nothing. Other than her reasons for wishing to marry, and that she was interested in translating the classics, she has told me nothing at all.’

  ‘Did you not think it odd that she has had no visits from friends, congratulating her on her marriage?’

  He had not questioned it. But of course, there should have been guests to the house. If it had been any other woman, her friends would have beaten a path to the door, eager to meet the peer and bask in the reflected glow of Penny’s rise in stature. ‘I thought perhaps she had cast them off as unworthy. Now that she is a duchess…’

  He could not manage to finish the sentence. He had thought no such thing. It was impossible to imagine Penny, who had little interest in her title or anyone else’s, being capable of such cruelty to her friends.

  Hector was silent, letting the truth sink in. And then he confirmed Adam’s new suspicions. ‘She has received no visitors because there is no one who has missed her. No one has expressed concern at her absence, or will wish her well on her good fortune. She has no friends, sir. None.’

  ‘That is strange.’ He could not help but say it, for it was. ‘There is nothing about her that would indicate the fact. She does not complain of loneliness. Nor is there any reason that people might shun her society.’

  ‘That is because she has been most effective at shunning the society of others. Her behaviour in public is, at best, outlandish, and at worst disturbing. When Father tried to give her a come-out, she made such a fool of herself that before the Season was complete, she had taken to her bed and was unwilling even to come down for tea. We hoped, with time, she would calm herself. But by the next year she was even more set in her ways than she had been. Small gatherings made her nervous, and large groups left her almost paralysed with fear.’