by Julia Parks
Amy Hepplewhite kept him informed of all of Olivia’s plans, and Sheridan appeared at every event, even two routs—though he hated every moment of them. Still, except for a bit of flirtation, Richard appeared to be getting nowhere in his seduction of Olivia. She was spending a great deal of time in Richard’s company, and this alone was enough to worry Sheridan. To his knowledge, however, the couple was never alone again.
After a week, Sheridan felt more defeated than ever. He was certain from the way Olivia gazed at Richard that she was falling in love with the rake. Richard was a patient man, and it was only a matter of time before he would devise a plan to get her alone.
Sheridan sometimes felt like he was fighting a losing battle. He also wondered why he cared. He did not for a minute think he was actually falling in love with Olivia. He remembered that feeling when, at the page of nineteen, he had fallen irrevocably for the beautiful Anne Lovelace.
Oh, the atrocious poetry he had penned! The hours spent gazing at her. He had begged for her hand the first day they met. She had laughed then and every time until the last one. She had accepted his kisses and his embraces. When her father had come to see him, to tell Sheridan that he would wed Anne or be shot, he had been overjoyed. He had rushed to her side only to be cursed for ruining her life.
Sheridan sighed at the remembrance. All Anne had ever wanted was the gaiety of London. All he had ever wanted was a simple life in the country. The marriage had been a disaster for both of them.
Unable to sleep after yet another rout that ended at four in the morning, Sheridan rose and dressed, walking the chilly streets until he reached the mews where Olivia’s horses were stabled. It was daylight, and the grooms were busy with the horses. Sheridan questioned several before he found the ones in charge of Lady Olivia’s cattle.
“Good morning. Rattle, isn’t it?”
“Aye, guvner. Wot kin I do for you?”
“I would like a word with you in private.” Taking the young man aside, Sheridan opened his purse. A few minutes later, he left the mews confident that he would be informed if Olivia chose to go anywhere unusual.
Sheridan would have felt less secure if he had heard Rattle telling his superior, Mr. Pate, about his request. Within the hour, Mr. Pate had told Harold, who digested this information and made the ponderous decision not to tell his mistress.
Later that morning, Lady Olivia met her three servants on the pavement and climbed into the closed carriage for their usual round of calls.
When she and Harold were seated and the carriage was under way, she asked, “What letter is it today, Harold?”
“What? Oh, the letter j.”
“You seem a little distracted today,” she said.
“I am, a little,” he replied. “But I am ready. Let’s see, for the letter j, besides jar and jug, which aren’t very exciting, I could think only of jab, but when I asked Mrs. Priddy the other day, she said she didn’t want me jabbing at someone. She said she would find a jack-in-the-box, whatever that is.”
“It is a child’s toy. I know they have one there because I gave one to little Penny. I have also seen the girls there playing jackstones. When you are teaching, you must ask the older girls to fetch a set of theirs for your lesson.” A little smile on her lips, she said, “When did you see Mrs. Priddy?”
“I thought I would ask her for help with the j, so I stopped in.”
“I see. You like Mrs. Priddy, don’t you, Harold?”
“I think she is th’ finest lady I have ever met—’cept for you and Miss Hepplewhite, that is.”
“Well, thank you for that. And I think she is a very fine lady, too. When I was away at school, she was my teacher, you know. I thought she was the kindest lady I had ever met. When she left to marry her husband, I cried. But all’s well that ends well.
We kept in touch, and as it tums out, that was most fortunate for both of us. I needed someone to run my school, and she needed a purpose to go on living.”
“When did her husband die, my lady?”
“It has been three years, I think.”
“And she lost two babies, too?”
“Yes, they both died of the same fever.”
“Such bad things shouldn’t happen to such a fine lady,” said Harold.
They fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Olivia felt a warm glow as her thoughts returned to Lord Sheridan. He might not be ready to declare himself, but he was definitely acting like a man in love—or very near to it. He was not being as rational as he usually was, or so Sir Richard had informed her. His friend thought it hilarious, but Olivia found it endearing.
“We’re here, m’lady,” said Harold, climbing down and holding out his hand for her to take.
“Good morning, my lady, Mr. Harold,” said Bobby, greeting them at the gate as usual. “Mr. Tucker is on his way with the key. He said I was to tell you.”
“That’s fine. How are you this morning, Bobby?”
“Fine, m’lady. And you?”
“I am quite well, thank you, sir.”
The caretaker came and opened the iron gates for them to enter. They were running a little late, and Harold hurried ahead with the boy to begin his lesson. Olivia headed straight for her friend’s office.
“Good morning, Sarah.”
“Lady Olivia! Good morning. Is Harold—I mean, Mr. Hanson, with you?”
“Yes, I have sent him on to the schoolroom. He is anxious to begin his lesson.”
“Oh, then I must hurry along,” said the head-mistress, picking up a box from the floor by her desk. “I promised that he could use Penny’s jack-in-the-box for his demonstration.”
“Oh, yes. I nearly forgot. I shall wait for you here.” Olivia wandered around the small, neat office. There were touches here and there that made her recall the habits of her former teacher. Sarah Priddy was forever arranging her books by colours—a quirk that would drive most academicians mad.
But her books, as with everything in her life, had to be pleasing aesthetically. There was symmetry, too, in the arrangement. Between each grouping of books was a small trinket or memento. One was a miniature of her late husband, a sergeant in the Peninsular War against Napoleon. He had been killed toward the end of that war, in late 1813. This, on top of losing her twins before their first birthday, had nearly destroyed Sarah.
Someone had seen to it that she had made it back to England, and Sarah, having nowhere else to turn, had found Olivia. For a time, the bereaved widow had simply stayed with Olivia and her aunt.
Finally, Sarah had decided she needed to be useful. They had hit upon the idea of the school, and Sarah had discovered a new meaning for her life, a new raison d’être.
Now, unless Olivia was wide of the mark, Sarah Priddy and her Harold were more than a little interested in each other. He was not on the same social rung, but he was a good man, and Sarah, evidently, didn’t really care. What a happy ending it would be if their new school could open with the marriage of the two. Then, as Harold had so eloquently told the children only the month before, they would have a real mum and dad.
Just then, Sarah returned, her face red with the laughter that still spilled forth. “I am sorry, my dear I just couldn’t tear myself away. When I left, the bigger girls had Harold on the floor and were trying to show him how to play at jackstones. There he is with those ham-sized fists of his, trying to pick up those small figures. All the children are standing around, cheering him on.”
“I should probably go and see that,” said Olivia.
“In a minute. I wanted to tell you that I received that letter from Lady Thorpe’s former governess. She is coming this afternoon to speak to me about a position.”
“Excellent.”
“Would you like to be present?”
“Heavens, no. I leave all that in your compe
tent hands. You will know if she is right for our little school. I hope she will be. Lady Thorpe insisted that she is very kind, but it has been a number of years since Lady Thorpe was her pupil. I shall trust you in this, as always.”
“Thank you, my dear. Is there anything else, or do you want to go and watch the show?”
“The show, please,” laughed Olivia, following Sarah out of the office and down the hall.
They entered the schoolroom to find Harold still sitting on the floor, a child leaning over each shoulder and little Penny on his lap. He had given up on playing at jackstones, and the older girls were demonstrating the game for him. All of them were laughing and giggling. When he looked up, his smile widened, showing two rows of uneven teeth. Sarah turned pink, her grey eyes shining as she returned his gaze.
Folding her arms, Olivia smiled, too. Yes, things were working out very nicely indeed.
Reluctantly, Olivia and Harold left the school behind and continued on to the widows’ home. When they arrived, Mr. Mullins greeted them with wringing hands.
“I am so glad you are here, Lady Olivia. Mrs. Tatman is gone all to pieces after receiving a most distressing letter from her mother.”
“Is it one of her children?”
“Yes, they have both contracted the chicken pox, but the youngest is very ill. The doctor warns that he may not live. She is beside herself with grief and wants to go, but…”
“Say no more. Let me speak to her. Tell the others not to worry. I will take Mrs. Tatman with me, and put her on the stage immediately.”
“Bless you, my lady,” said the distraught man.
Soon, they were back in the coach, heading for the closest posting inn. Beside Olivia sat Mrs. Tatman, her eyes red from crying. She clutched her worn-out portmanteau to her bosom.
“I should have had them with me. My mum’s too old to look after them right and proper.”
“Now, now. You did what you thought best, Mrs. Tatman. I am sure your mother has done all she can for your sons.”
“I only hope I get there in time.”
The coach lurched and stopped.
“See what is the matter, Harold.”
Harold hopped down and exchanged a few words with the coachman, Mr. Pate.
When he returned, he said, “It looks like a nasty snarl up ahead. Two coaches collided.”
“Can we not back up and go another way?”
He glanced at their passenger and winced. “I’m afraid not, m’lady. We’re blocked in. I’ll see if I can go out and help th’ ones behind us to back up.”
Mrs. Tatman sniffled, and Olivia offered her lace handkerchief. The minutes raced past, and suddenly the door opened. The Marquess of Sheridan hopped inside.
Tipping his hat, he said, “Good afternoon, ladies.”
“Lord Sheridan! I am happy you are here. We are trying to get to the George and Blue Boar Inn in Holborn. Mrs. Tatman needs to arrive in time for us to purchase a ticket for the seven-thirty P.M. mail coach to Dover—that is, she is only going as far as Rochester. We have been sitting here for almost an hour now.”
“You might be here all night, ladies. There was an accident behind you after the one in front. If you wish to take the mail, you will have to walk to the inn. However, I have my curricle waiting in the next street. I was curious what all of the hubbub was about and walked through that alley to see what was going on. Then I spied your carriage, my lady. My curricle is at your disposal. ”
“Oh, thank you, my lord! ” exclaimed Mrs. Tatman and Olivia together.
He hopped out of the carriage, and both ladies started to follow. “There is only one problem. The Curricle is not large enough for three. If you wouldn’t mind waiting here, Lady Olivia, I will take Mrs. Tatman up with me.”
“Of course not. Go quickly, Mrs. Tatman. Here is the money for the ticket and a little extra so you may purchase something to eat.”
“You are too kind, my lady!”
“Not at all. I will keep you in my prayers.”
She waved, but neither Lord Sheridan nor Mrs. Tatman looked back. It was already six o’clock. They would make it if nothing else happened to delay them. For her part, she would simply have to be patient and find out what happened when next she came upon Lord Sheridan.
How wonderful that he had chanced to spy her carriage. He was a true gentleman. He might not smile all the time, but he was a noble man. He had not even questioned why she was trying to assist a commoner like Mrs. Tatman. He had not looked askance at her plain gown. He had simply stepped in and done what needed doing—rather like a knight of old.
Sitting back and allowing herself to relax, Olivia filled the remaining time with daydreams about knights and fair damsels who looked remarkably like Lord Sheridan and her.
Chapter Nine
Olivia arrived home in time to rush up to her room and dress. Her aunt, resplendent in her new gown of deep rose, sent her own maid to help Pansy turn her out in record time. Still, Olivia felt positively breathless by the time the two abigails pronounced she was ready to meet her guests.
Taking one last look in the glass, Olivia smiled and thanked the two maids. Her new gown was a clear blue, the colour of the sky on a summer day. Silver threads had been woven into the cloth, and it shimmered in the candlelight. Her hair was piled atop her head with strands of seed pearls entwined through it. Around her neck was a single star sapphire secured on a narrow white ribbon. She had never felt more beautiful or more ready for romance.
There were some twenty people who had been invited to dine before the ball. When Olivia entered the drawing room, she spied her aunt on the sofa with Mr. Jenson on one side and Mr. Pendleton on the other, each vying for her attention. Lord Hardcastle and Miss Featherstone were deep in conversation with her parents. Lady Thorpe and Mr. Thomas were speaking to the Grants. All this she perceived at a glance before going forward to greet these and the other guests personally.
Last came Sir Richard. Olivia had been aware that he was watching her progress around the room. She knew he was waiting for his own turn. Before she could greet him, Witchell entered with a silver salver that contained a small card addressed to her.
Olivia opened it and found a hastily written message.
My dear Lady Olivia,
Mrs. Tatman is safely away. I will be there for the ball, but l fear l will miss dinner:
Yr Servant,
Sheridan
Peeking over her shoulder, Sir Richard said, “From Sheri, I see. Not bad news, I hope.” Olivia turned to him with a brilliant smile, and he added, “I do wish he would cease being such a flat and get on with it.”
“Do not be like that, Sir Richard. Lord Sheridan did a very noble thing this afternoon. Because of that, he will miss dinner, but he will be here for the ball.”
“And you hope that he has somehow changed into a knowing fellow and will realize what a fool he has been. He will sweep you into his arms in a fevered frenzy and never let you go.”
She did not deny it, but she giggled all the same. “The likelihood of that happening tonight is as silly as you are, my friend. Now, I am wearing a new gown tonight, and you have yet to tell me how beautiful it is. You are being quite the slow-top for a practiced rake.” If she was expecting a teasing reply, she was disappointed.
Sir Richard lowered his voice to a seductive whisper and said, “I don’t need to tell you how beautiful the gown is. I shall tell you simply that even as beautiful as it is, this gown is not worthy of your beauty.”
Making work of folding the note gave her time to decide on the proper response. With a smile, she pretended to applaud his compliment. For a brief second, a hint of pain flickered in his eyes, then it was gone. Olivia was not even certain she had seen it. He took her hand and lifted it to his lips for an impetuous kiss.
“I
hope Sheri comes to his senses soon,” said Sir Richard.
Giving him a sidelong glance, she asked, “Why is that?”
“If he does not, I may have to wed you myself, and that would play havoc with my reputation!”
Deciding that this conversation was becoming too dangerous, Olivia asked, “Tell me, have you seen Miss Divine yet?”
“Not yet. I left my card. Her housekeeper said she would be out of town until today.”
“How very forthcoming of her to give you such personal information,” teased Olivia.
“I have a way with women—some women,” he corrected, giving her a speaking look.
“Here is Witchell to announce dinner,” she said with relief.
Because Lord Sheridan was not present, the gentleman with the highest rank was Olivia’s friend Tony, Lord Hardcastle. He left his fiancée and came forward to offer Olivia his arm. The rest of the guests found their own partners according to their own ranks. Tony led Olivia to her seat at the head of the table before going to the other end.
Mr. Pendleton, she noticed, escorted Miss Fallon. The last couple to enter was her aunt and Mr. Jenson. Olivia smiled. Perhaps her aunt had finally decided to stop playing games with the kind doctor. Olivia certainly hoped so.
They were all seated, and the first course was served. Olivia turned to Lord Featherstone on her right and asked about the latest happenings in the House of Commons. When he had finished fifteen minutes later, Olivia spent a few minutes in conversation with Lord Grant on her left. She heard the large clock in the hallway strike the hour with ponderous precision. It seemed to mock her as she waited impatiently for Lord Sheridan’s arrival.
She told herself she was being foolish, but she envisioned him dressing hurriedly, as impatient to be by her side as she was to have him there. Nonsense, of course. Most probably, Lord Sheridan regretted the time he wasted that afternoon, executing what was, after all, her duty.
The final course was being served when Witchell leaned over her shoulder and whispered, “Lord Sheridan has arrived, my lady. As he did not wish to disturb everyone’s dinner, I placed him in the drawing room.”