To Win the Lady

by Mary Nichols

  It was the first time that question was asked but it was not the last. When Felicity returned at the end of the waltz, she asked it too, and Georgie was faced with it again half an hour later when Richard asked her to dance a Chaîne Anglaise with him.

  ‘Why did you not tell your aunt and sister you had met me when I am so obviously a subject for their tattle?’ he demanded as the opening bars of the music signalled that he should execute a sweeping bow.

  ‘That isn’t fair!’ she exclaimed, dropping into a deep curtsy. ‘Just because my aunt and Mrs Melford mention your name it does not make Felicity a gossip. She is a sweet, kind girl, and very biddable.’

  ‘I am sure she is,’ he said laconically as the first movement began.

  She looked up into his dark eyes and felt them searing into her, just as they had once before, and she found herself growing weak. How dare he make her feel like that, as if she hadn’t a bone in her body? Thankfully the dance separated them, but he returned to the subject as soon as they came together again to execute a tour de main. ‘You did not answer my question. What have you to hide?’

  ‘I have nothing to conceal, Major,’ she said, forcing herself to sound cool. ‘I simply thought it would be better if Felicity made up her own mind about you.’

  He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Oh, I see; the matchmakers are at it again, are they? I’ve no doubt they told you I was in want of a wife.’

  ‘Are you?’ she demanded, disconcerting him. His father’s ultimatum was fresh in his ears. ‘Find yourself a wife,’ he had said. ‘Give me a grandchild. Do you really wish to see William take over when I’m gone? I don’t like the thatchgallows above half, but if he is obedient, and you ain’t, what choice have I?’

  He had returned again and again to the same topic during the three days Richard had been at home, until Richard was ready to explode, and when William himself had arrived from nearby Borton where he had a small estate it was the last straw. The man was a toad-eater of the first water; he had married Lucille, Honorés daughter, the young lady Richard had rejected, and produced a family of five in no time at all.

  Richard could not stand by and watch him unctuously doing his utmost to put himself in a good light and the son of the house in a bad one; it had been done before by his stepmother and resulted in Richard’s self-imposed exile. He would be damned if he would allow it to happen again.

  He had slammed out of the front door, mounted Paget’s Pegasus and ridden to town, racking up overnight at the Swan in Stevenage, smouldering every step of the way. His ire had not been helped by the knowledge that he had not been the best of sons and he would do well to try and make amends, not only because of the inheritance, but in order to please his father. He would find a wife and one his lordship would approve of.

  ‘Well, are you?’ Georgie demanded, breaking in on his reverie.

  ‘Am I what?’

  ‘Looking for a wife.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Then I am persuaded you should look no further.’

  He looked down at her in astonishment; that she was outspoken and lacking in reserve he already knew, but to be so blunt about it was past comprehension and he was at a loss to know how to answer her. ‘You? Why, Miss Paget, you flatter me...’

  ‘Not me,’ she snapped, disconcerted by her faux pas and anxious to rid him of the idea that she was putting herself forward. ‘I was referring to my sister. Though, on reflection, perhaps you would not do, for you are far too conceited. And if you were to make her unhappy I think I should kill you.’

  ‘Oh, dear, that has me quaking my boots.’

  ‘And it is excessively uncivil of you to make fun of me.’

  ‘I am sorry,’ he said contritely. ‘You are evidently very fond of your sister.’

  ‘Of course I am. I want her to be happy. My aunt has pointed out my duty very plainly and I must do my utmost to help Felicity to the best possible match.’

  ‘And you?’ he asked softly. ‘What about you?’

  ‘Oh, I have my horses,’ she said airily, giving herself no time to wonder why he had asked the question. ‘They are enough for me.’

  ‘And, of course, you never jump a hedge blind,’ he murmured, leaving her pondering on what he meant. But there was no time to ask him because the dance had ended and he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm to return her to her aunt.

  The rest of the evening passed in a blur as far as Georgie was concerned. Afterwards, she thought she had danced once or twice and gone in to supper, though what she ate of the hundreds of dishes put on the long tables in the dining-room she had no idea. Returning to Holles Street just before dawn, she told herself it was because she was not used to town hours. At Rowan Park she retired early so as to be up betimes for her work in the stables and she had had no time to become acclimatised to the change. That was possibly true, but she knew it was also because she had realised she had allowed herself to slide so that she had become the antidote of all antidotes. ‘Eccentric’, her aunt had said. How right she had been! And she had made a fool of herself with Major Baverstock; it made her cheeks burn even to think of it.

  ‘And what did you think of Major Baverstock, my dear?’ Mrs Bertram asked Felicity, who had been chattering on about what a wonderful time she had had. ‘He is a handsome man, is he not?’

  ‘Yes, indeed, Aunt, and he has engaged to call on us tomorrow. I think he means to ask me to go for a carriage ride in the park.’

  ‘Good.’ Mrs Bertram leaned back on the squabs with a sigh of satisfaction. ‘Georgiana will chaperon you, for I declare I was never so exhausted. I doubt I shall rise before noon and I have undertaken to visit Caro Sopwithy in the afternoon.’

  Georgie opened her mouth to protest, but shut it again. After all, what possible reason could she have for refusing? Major Baverstock made an ideal suitor; he was polished and wealthy and would one day be a viscount. And her sister found him attractive. It was her duty to go. It was a pity that doing one’s duty was sometimes such a mixture of pleasure and pain.

  ‘Of course, Aunt Harriet,’ she said as the coach drew up at the door and all three were admitted by a footman who had been dozing in a chair by the door, waiting for their return. She followed her aunt and sister up the stairs to their respective rooms where their maids were waiting to help them to bed. After a good night’s sleep, Georgie told herself as she climbed into bed, she would feel more the thing, but the ormolu carriage clock on the mantelpiece reminded her that it was four in the morning and in less than twelve hours she must face the Major again. Why did she dread that so much? She plumped up her pillow, shut her eyes firmly and told herself he was only a very ordinary man and she would not give him the satisfaction of making her feel foolish.

  Most of the young men who had danced with the sisters at the ball arrived to pay their respects at some time during the following afternoon, many bearing flowers or sweetmeats, anxious to forward their suit with the younger Miss Paget. She was flattered, there was no denying it, and accepted several invitations, but it was obvious that she was not paying as much attention as she should and was listening anxiously for the arrival of one of their number who had not yet put in an appearance. After staying a few minutes, they left, one by one.

  ‘He is not coming,’ Felicity said when the two girls were alone once more.

  ‘There is time. Be patient.’

  `There’s a carriage now.’ She ran to the window and peeped from behind the folds of the curtain. ‘Oh, it is Major Baverstock!’

  ‘Come away from the window, do,’ Georgie admonished her. Her own heart was beating unaccountably fast and she did not notice the drop in her sister’s voice. ‘It is not done to appear too eager, you know.’

  Her sister had barely left the window and arranged herself prettily in a chair when Major Baverstock was announced. He strode into the salon where they had been receiving their callers and bowed to both ladies. He was obviously ready for their outing, for he wore a well-cut coat of Bath cloth,
biscuit pantaloons and highly polished hessians.

  ‘Your servant, Miss Paget, Miss Felicity,’ he said, tucking his curly-brimmed hat beneath his arm and sweeping them a bow. ‘I trust I find you both well?’

  Somehow the pleasantries sounded affected coming from him, as if he was repeating something he had learned by rote and did not really comprehend. Georgie smiled. ‘We are very well, Major, and looking forward to our ride, aren’t we, Felicity?’

  ‘I beg pardon? Oh, yes, of course...’

  Felicity seemed to be in a world of her own and having trouble concentrating; Georgie surmised that she was nervous and overawed by the attentions of the Major and decided she would have to speak to her about it. ‘We will go and put on our bonnets and coats,’ she said. ‘It will not do to keep the horses waiting.’

  She took Felicity’s arm and propelled her from the room and up the stairs, notwithstanding the fact that her sister seemed reluctant to go. ‘What are you thinking of, Felicity? You must not be so missish. He does not expect you to go into vapours at the sight of him; you should have smiled and welcomed him and made some conversation. Do pull yourself together, dearest, or he will be quite put off.’

  ‘If he is so easily discouraged, I would as lief not entertain him at all,’ Felicity said with more than usual spirit. ‘I should like him to have a little more resolution than to be deterred because I am a little distracted.’

  ‘Why are you distracted?’

  They had reached the door of Felicity’s room and she turned to go inside, saying, ‘Oh, I am tired. After the quiet of the country, London is all rush and tear. I shall be in fine fettle directly.’

  Georgie went to her own room and five minutes later, having donned a light silk shawl and a plain straw bonnet, which was all that was needed for the weather was very warm, she went downstairs again to find Felicity already there in a light pelisse and ribbon-trimmed bonnet, chattering nineteen to the dozen to the Major. ‘Oh, here is my sister. Now we can go,’ she said brightly. ‘Come, Georgie, it was you who said the horses must not be kept waiting.’ She turned to Richard as they left the house together. ‘That is all my sister thinks of, Major. Horses are her only interest. She would sleep in the stables if she could. It is all Papa’s fault, of course. He would have liked a son...’

  ‘Felicity, I am sure the Major does not want to know about me,’ Georgie put in, noticing the twitch at the corner of Richard’s mouth.

  ‘On the contrary,’ he said politely as he handed them both into the phaeton which stood at the door. ‘It is pleasing to hear sisters so loyal to each other. I am persuaded that is not often the case.’

  ‘Have you sisters, Major?’ Georgie asked.

  ‘I fear not. I am my parents’ only child.’

  ‘I think that must be sad for you,’ Felicity said. ‘But no doubt you and your father are very close.’ And before he could reply to this impertinence she added, ‘We have lost our dear papa, you know.’

  ‘Yes. I was sorry to learn of it.’ He climbed in to sit facing them and commanded his driver to proceed. ‘It must have been very difficult for you, especially with no man about the place.’

  ‘Indeed it was,’ she said, while Georgie sat mute. She had scolded her sister for having no conversation and now she was displaying the same tendency. ‘But Georgie looks after everything so well. She was determined I should have my come-out and when Aunt Harriet arrived back from the war the opportunity seemed too good to miss...’

  ‘Then I am doubly fortunate to have arrived back in town at the same time. It is the merest chance, for I had determined to stay in the country.’

  ‘Oh, but Lady Hereward said she was sure you would return for her ball. She said...’

  ‘You served with Wellington, did you not?’ Georgie put in to cover her sister’s ingenuousness. ‘Do tell us about the great man. They say he can be rather short-tempered on occasion.’

  He smiled. ‘Yes, but he has every right to be angry if he is let down. He accords praise where it is due and apportions blame in no small measure if he thinks it is deserved. I am proud to have served under him.’

  ‘Were you at Waterloo?’

  ‘Yes, and in Spain before that.’

  ‘And now the war is over what will you do?’ Felicity asked. ‘I believe Captain Melford means to return to his regiment. Will you do that?’

  ‘No, Miss Felicity, my soldiering days are done. I must leave the colours and be a dutiful son.’ He paused to smile down at her. ‘My father tells me it is time I settled down.’

  The remark brought floods of colour to her cheeks for it seemed to confirm that he was indeed looking for a wife, but she was saved from having to reply for they were entering Hyde Park and taking their place in the long procession of other carriages: barouches, landaulets, phaetons, curricles, which were filling the carriageway, all proceeding at a pace which was hardly faster than a man could walk. It seemed as if half of fashionable London was out to see and be seen in that one small corner of the capital.

  All thought of sustained conversation was abandoned as they found themselves greeting and being greeted by everyone they had met in the last week. Georgie was astonished at the number and could not remember half their names, though Felicity seemed to have no difficulty and was enjoying herself hugely. She looked remarkably pretty in her face-framing bonnet with its ribbon bow securing it under her chin; her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled so that the young blades found themselves eaten with envy for the handsome man who escorted her. Georgie was forced to admit that her sister had made a hit.

  They were just leaving the park on their way home, when they were hailed by a man on horseback who had been riding along the Row.

  ‘Oh, it is Captain Melford,’ Felicity cried. ‘Do let us stop and speak to him.’

  Richard called to the driver to pull up close to the rails which divided the Row from the carriageway and John reined in to greet them. ‘Your servant, ladies,’ he said, calming his horse with an outstretched hand on its neck, for it was not pleased to have its exercise so abruptly halted. ‘I trust I find you in good spirits? Good afternoon, Richard. I perceive you could not stay away from town, after all.’

  Richard smiled. ‘Do you blame me when I have two such beautiful ladies to escort?’

  ‘No, though I don’t think it was very sporting of you to cut me out.’ He turned to the girls. ‘I called at Holles Street earlier but you had left.’

  ‘Did you?’ Felicity asked, colouring prettily. ‘We are sorry we missed you, are we not, Georgie?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Georgie said.

  ‘I went to ask if you would care to ride with me,’ he explained. ‘But this dog got there first.’ He grinned at Richard. ‘No matter, there is always another day.’

  ‘It will have to be soon,’ Felicity told him. ‘Georgie is going back to Rowan Park soon and, though Aunt Harriet will quite happily chaperon me in a carriage, I do not think she will want to ride.’

  ‘Then let us all four go,’ John said enthusiastically. ‘How about it, Richard? Shall we all ride in Green Park tomorrow?’

  ‘If the ladies are agreeable,’ Richard said, smiling at Georgie with eyes that seemed to be teasing her. ‘But I fear Miss Paget will find riding in town a sad disappointment after the Rowan Park gallops. I doubt there are suitable hedges.’

  ‘Hedges?’ queried Georgie, determined not to let him have the upper hand. ‘We are not going hunting, Major. A simple hack is what is intended, is it not, Mr Melford?’

  John, who did not understand the crackling tension between his friend and the elder Miss Paget, laughed uneasily. ‘Of course. But if you prefer something a little more strenuous, then Hampstead Heath or perhaps Richmond...’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Felicity put in quickly. ‘That sounds a little too boisterous and I am not the rider, my sister is. The park will do me very well.’

  ‘I think the gentlemen are teasing us, my dear,’ Georgie said. ‘And I think it is very uncivil of them. I hav
e a good mind not to ride at all.’

  ‘Oh, but you must!’ Felicity cried. ‘If you do not go I cannot and I should like it very much.’

  ‘Very well.’ Georgie, who could not deny her sister anything it was in her power to give, relented. ‘But we shall have to hire mounts; Aunt Harriet has only carriage horses.’

  ‘Leave that to me,’ John said. ‘I will undertake to bring mounts to your door, if you state the time.’

  ‘For me, you may call as early as you like,’ Georgie said. ‘But I think we must observe the proprieties and not set out before the streets are aired. Shall we say ten?’

  ‘Ten it shall be,’ he agreed. ‘I would offer to accompany you home, but I am engaged to call on Lady Hereward with my mama in half an hour.’ He touched the brim of his riding hat and rode away, leaving Richard to accompany the girls back to Holles Street.

  It took only a few minutes and for the first five of those he seemed to be too engrossed in watching Heacham negotiate the press of traffic to have much conversation, but as soon as they were out of the park he turned to Felicity and enquired about her preferences for a mount, gently drawing from her the information that although she could ride quite well - any daughter of Sir Henry Paget would be required to learn at an early age - she had not her sister’s skill and would prefer not to have too spirited an animal. Georgie, watching him from under the brim of her bonnet, saw him relax, as if the news that the younger girl was not also a madcap rider was a relief.

  ‘Georgie rides like a man,’ Felicity went on, then, because she was suddenly afraid that she had said something disparaging, added quickly, ‘Not that she is the least like a man really.’

  He turned and gave Georgie a wry grin. ‘So I had observed.’

  Georgie, who was not sure if he meant that he had observed the way she rode or the fact that she was not like a man, could find no reply to this, even if one was expected, and she was glad they were drawing up at her aunt’s door. By the time he had jumped down and handed them both down, instructed Heacham to walk the horses until he returned and accompanied them to the door, a reply was not necessary.