Loving Lucy

by Lynne Connolly

  “How can that be?” asked Lucy, bewildered. “It is such a large amount. And the houses were bought from the Funds when Philip inherited.”

  “Yes, my lady, and they are yours, in your name, the house in London and the one in Buckinghamshire. But her ladyship has spent a great deal of money in - improving them, and her finery costs a great deal. Then there is - her expenditure on the tables.”

  “Tables?” said Lucy wildly, and then remembered. Her Mama enjoyed a game of cards and would often indulge in a visit to the card-room when they were at a ball. Lucy had thought nothing of it. Everybody played. “She - how could she?”

  “Great sums change hands,” said Chumleigh. “And your mother’s habits in this sphere have increased considerably in the last year. I was looking forward to your majority, my lady, but I don’t think she could have been.”

  “Sir Geoffrey plays,” said Lucy slowly. “But not to excess. Do you think he knew?”

  “I think it’s highly likely,” said Philip grimly. “He could have offered to pay off her debts. That would explain why she was so keen on the match, so determined you should have him even after you ran away.”

  “Oh no.” cried Lucy in distress. “Mama.”

  Mr. Chumleigh slowly got to his feet. “I think,” he said ponderously, “I’ll go and find some more tea. And I need to find witnesses for these documents. Your companion?”

  Lucy shook her head. “She thinks I’m Miss Moore, not Lady Lucy Moore,” she said dully, her mind on what she had just been told.

  “Very well, my clerk and the maid should do. They’ve done it before,” he said, and looked at Lucy perceptively. “It may take me some time to track the maid down.”

  Philip smiled his thanks and the lawyer left the room.

  At once Philip got up and drew Lucy into his arms, letting her rest her head on his shoulder while she wept. She looked up at him. He got out his handkerchief and began mopping up the tears, wiping her cheeks dry. “Do you think it’s true?” she asked. “Do you think she was selling me to pay her gambling debts?”

  Philip disliked Lady Royston intensely, but he had to be fair. “You seemed happy with him,” he said, “and if she gave you a little push, it wouldn’t have mattered, if he was good to you.”

  “Yes,” she said mistily, but she stopped crying.

  “What is reprehensible is her determination to go on with the match. I’ve seen her, Lucy, and she’s still resolved the marriage will take place.” At her look of alarm, he kissed her softly. “But it won’t,” he assured her. “It mustn’t.”

  She held him for a few minutes without speaking, then she said, “If I - we - have to go abroad, won’t you find it hard? I mean, me carrying a child which may belong to someone else, birthing it?”

  His face grew grimmer; his mouth formed a hard line. “Yes,” he said briefly. “Of course it will be hard. But I won’t let you do this on your own. I can’t.”

  “Won’t it - stop you wanting me?”

  “No,” he assured her, but she thought she saw doubt in his face and she was afraid. Perhaps she should persuade him to let her go alone, at least in the last months. If she sent him home, he might not be so affected by the sight of her, and she might keep him in the longer term.

  In her heart, the decision was made. She couldn’t risk losing him again. After a week of anxious waiting, she had decided that she must be pregnant, and was doing her best to face the fact. What was three months or so in the scheme of things? She thought, bravely. She also knew how many women died in childbirth, but she would buy the best help there was, and she was young, so stood a good chance of coming through this unscathed. At least in body. Well, it had happened, and she must go ahead and face it all.

  “Philip?”

  “Yes my love?”

  She smiled now, determined not to worry him. “Ever since we - well, we - you know“ she looked up at his face shyly to see his expression soften. “ Well, I’ve wanted to do it again.” She took a breath when she made this confession. “Does that make me a wanton?”

  His smile was all she wanted to see, and he tightened his hold on her, brought her to him for a kiss. “No,” he said then. “What we did was make love. That isn’t - the other thing, that’s something apart, something special.”

  “Is that what it’s usually like?”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s something else entirely. I’ve never felt anything like it before, and yes, my love, I want to do it again. In fact, I never want to stop doing it. That’s why I want to marry you.” He laughed a little. “In fact, if you talk about it much more I’ll be completely overset, forget all our prudent plans and carry you off to Gretna tonight.”

  “Oh Philip.”

  The room fell silent as they shared a deep, passionate kiss, oblivious to anything else. Then the door opened, and closed. They didn’t break away immediately, and when they did, they were alone. Philip smiled, and took the blushing Lucy back to her seat. “He’ll come in again in a minute,” he assured her. He kept hold of her hand.

  Mr. Chumleigh did return, with the witnesses he had promised. Lucy signed a document stating her intention to break the contract with Sir Geoffrey, and watched it witnessed. Then she signed her new marriage contract, and watched with rising happiness when Philip signed it too. The witnesses appended their signatures and left the room.

  “I think that concludes our business,” said Mr. Chumleigh. He stood up from behind his desk and came round it, holding out his hand. “May I offer you my best wishes for your future happiness?” The warmth in his gaze was unmistakable; he must have seen the kiss. Smiling, they took his hand in turn and accepted his felicitations.

  “I will make sure you can access funds abroad,” he said to Lucy, “If it becomes necessary. Please let me know when you’re certain, one way or the other.”

  She agreed, and they left the room.

  Outside, Janet waited, an empty tea cup and plate on a small table in front of her. She looked at them curiously. “All done?” she enquired.

  “All done,” Lucy said.

  Chapter Twenty

  Janet waited until dinner was nearly over to make her revelation. They were alone, just the Carmichaels and Lucy. Philip had decided to show himself, make the rounds of the clubs and then go to Almack’s, since it was Wednesday. Lucy had dressed simply, and thoroughly enjoyed a good meal, still glowing from the knowledge that her liaison to Philip had reached some kind of official status. Seating was informal, so she sat between Mrs. Carmichael and Christina, with Janet opposite her.

  Janet had remained very quiet for most of the meal, but had watched Lucy with her large, beautiful brown eyes. It had not concerned Lucy; she was used to being stared at. Janet made her revelation when the table had been cleared, dessert set out and the servants gone from the room.

  “I saw Fiona kiss Lord Royston today,” she said, in a light conversational tone.

  It had an immediate effect. Cutlery was placed on plates, with varying degrees of care, and everyone looked at Lucy. “A cousinly kiss,” Mrs. Carmichael said after reflection. “Quite permissible.”

  But Janet wouldn’t let it rest. “Oh no,” she said. “Not that kind of kiss at all.”

  She fixed Lucy with a stare Lucy suddenly thought looked cow like, or how a cow would look if it were trying to hypnotise someone. “Fiona, that is not behaviour we have come to expect from you,” said Mrs. Carmichael. She sounded disappointed. “I had thought better of you.”

  Lucy tore her gaze away from Janet’s and turned to her hostess. She regarded her in silence for a moment, thinking.

  Before she could say anything Janet spoke again. “And when we arrived at the office, the clerk called Fiona ‘my lady.’” All eyes swivelled to look at Lucy. Now she did feel uncomfortable. “When I asked him, he told me she was Lady Lucy Moore. I said I thought she was Fiona Moore. He didn’t say anything for a while, and when he did, he said the likeness was remarkable. I think he was lying.”

  Luc
y still looked to Mrs. Carmichael. “Can you explain this?” said the lady. All kindness had gone, only frosty suspicion remained.

  Lucy remembered all the kindnesses she had received here, the way they had accepted her, treated her as one of the family. She knew she owed them a great deal. Their expressions of shock and betrayal distressed her.

  “Yes,” she said. “I can.” She looked around at the Carmichaels, taking in the astonishment, and perhaps anger, especially from Mr Carmichael and Rodney.

  “I am Lucy Moore,” she said. “And I’m so sorry we had to deceive you. But when I came here, I didn’t know you, and I couldn’t go home.” Her voice had risen in pitch and she stopped when she realised, made an effort to control it. If it rose any more she feared she might cry. “My marriage to Sir Geoffrey Sanders had become repugnant to me, and my mother wouldn’t let me cancel the contract. She feared the scandal, and there was something else, which I only learned about today. I come into full possession of my fortune in two months, when I’m twenty five, and she’s been living too high. We think Sir Geoffrey had offered to pay the debts for her.” She stopped and reached for her wineglass, taking a deep draught of the cool white wine before she continued. The silence fell heavy around her.

  “So a capricious whim made you decide to call the marriage off?” said Mrs. Carmichael. Her voice had never sounded so cold.

  “No,” said Lucy. “If you will wait a moment, I will show you why I decided to call it off. But only you and Christina. The others must take your word.” Mrs. Carmichael stared at her for a full, long minute, and then with a brief nod, she agreed.

  “The other thing,” said Lucy. “I was kissing Philip because we signed our own marriage contract today. We’ve decided to marry before the end of the year.”

  She looked down at her plate, avoiding the gazes of Rodney and Janet.

  “I see,” said Mrs. Carmichael. “So he has been deceiving us too. Of course he must have been; he knows you well.”

  Lucy stood up and so did Mrs. Carmichael and a grave faced Christina. They left the room.

  The shutters had been drawn for the night in the small parlour across the passage from the dining room. Once the door had closed, Lucy turned her back to them. “Unbutton my gown and unlace me,” she said. She steeled herself for what was to come.

  Efficiently, they did as she had bid them, and head drooping, Lucy loosened the drawstring of her chemise and slipped it off her shoulders.

  Mrs. Carmichael drew a sharp breath, and Christina said, “Oh Fiona. Oh my God.”

  Silently they helped her back into the soft leather stays and buttoned up her dark blue gown. Slowly, Lucy turned to face them.

  Their faces had undergone a transformation. Mother and daughter stared at her, eyes wide, horror struck. “What happened?” Mrs. Carmichael asked.

  “My Mama gave Sir Geoffrey permission to anticipate the wedding ceremony,” Lucy said. Strangely, her confession didn’t hurt her as much as it had earlier in the day. Perhaps repeating it helped to rid her mind of it. “He knew I’d been to Mr. Chumleigh’s earlier in the day and probably suspected why. Mr. Chumleigh told me of Geoffrey’s debts, and when I went home I said I wanted the engagement brought to an end, or at least the wedding deferred until further investigations had been made. My Mama was extremely anxious that it should take place and refused to listen. Then she let Geoffrey take me upstairs. Then he beat me.” She swallowed, looked down and then looked directly up at them. “And raped me.”

  Christina’s breathed, “Oh no.” echoed around the room.

  “Potter took me to Philip’s house in Grosvenor Square. She couldn’t think of anywhere else. They looked after me for a night, then brought me here.” She hoped the slight discrepancy in dates would go unnoticed. That part was entirely private. “Potter has continued to care for my wounds.”

  “And Lord Royston? How did that come about?” They wanted it all. Lucy couldn’t blame them for that. She would, in the same circumstances.

  “The way it usually comes about,” she replied. “My Mama had kept us apart since my father’s death, and restricted our meetings as much as she could before that. But since we’ve been here, we realised what we should have years ago. He asked me to marry him after my contract to Sir Geoffrey expires on the eleventh of April.”

  “So why won’t you marry him until later in the year?” Christina demanded, only to receive a reproof from her mother, quicker on the uptake. “Christina. Don’t be so naïve.”

  Lucy explained. “I could be carrying Sir Geoffrey’s child. I don’t know yet, but I’m a week late. I won’t have any child of his inheriting the title my father bore, I’m determined upon that.”

  “How will you manage?”

  “I come into my fortune in a couple of months. I shall go abroad, come back when it’s all over.”

  Mrs Carmichael shook her head in sorrow, but Christina said impulsively, “I could come with you.”

  “I couldn’t ask it of you,” said Lucy firmly.

  “Nonsense.” said Mrs. Carmichael. Her usual tones of control were returning to her voice. “A widow and her lady companion. God knows there are young widows aplenty these days. Just the thing.”

  “I couldn’t,” Lucy repeated, but in her heart she, too, felt this would be just the thing. Then she could go away and return and Philip need never see her in that condition. It would be hard, but with someone as kind as Christina, bearable. “Not after what you’ve done for me and how badly we’ve treated you. Indeed I’m sorry, and I showed you what Geoffrey did to make you understand, not to compel you to do any more for me.”

  Mrs. Carmichael took the step that separated them and folded her arms around Lucy in a motherly gesture that nearly overset them both. “You didn’t know us,” she said. “And you must have been distraught. My poor girl, nobody should undergo what you had to, especially with a mother as unfeeling as yours. If you showed her what you have showed us, would she understand, do you think?”

  Lucy felt comforted, her head resting on Mrs. Carmichael’s shoulder. She felt Christina’s hand on her other shoulder, and she reached out her hand to her friend. “No,” she said. “She must have heard me scream, and I called out for her, but she didn’t come. She wants me to marry him, and if I go home before I marry Philip, she’ll make me.”

  “My poor dear.” Mrs. Carmichael began to rock Lucy, as she might with a child, but this time Lucy didn’t cry. She was so relieved. She had come to like these people immensely. She bitterly regretted deceiving them.

  Lucy pulled away after a time. Mrs. Carmichael looked at her gravely, but the condemnation Lucy had seen in her face before had gone. “Would you like to be married from here?”

  “Oh yes, above all things.”

  The older lady smiled, pleased at Lucy’s response. “Well at least we may call you by your name in the house, although it must still be ‘Fiona’ outside it. I did wonder about some of your responses when I asked you about Scotland. I’ve been to Edinburgh you see, and your recollections of it weren’t the same as mine.”

  Lucy laughed. “I did my best.”

  “You did very well. I just thought you’d been carefully nurtured, and hadn’t been about a great deal.”

  “Are you sure about Royston?” Christina asked. “I mean, it’s very sudden, after a shock like you’ve had.”

  “Yes I’m sure,” Lucy replied. “I should have realised before, only my Mama took a dislike to him and kept us apart.”

  “We should go back,” Mrs. Carmichael said. “What shall we tell them?”

  “Whatever you see fit to tell them,” Lucy replied firmly.

  “Then I shall tell Mr. Carmichael, if I may, but in private. The others need know no more than you’ve convinced us of your need to do this.” Christina nodded her agreement and dropped back with Lucy when they returned to the dining room. Lucy looked round at the room when Mrs. Carmichael told them her decision and felt, suddenly, completely at home here. The lady’s word was enoug
h for them, and it wasn’t only obedience she saw on her children’s faces, it was love and trust.

  ***

  The next day Philip had promised to walk in the park with them. He was surprised when, in a room full of Carmichaels, Lucy came towards him both hands extended to take his, no attempt to hide her warm expression. “I told them last night, Philip,” she said. “They understand the need, and they want me to stay.”

  He looked around, a smile on his handsome face. “I can’t tell you how relieved that makes me.” he confessed. He looked at Lucy first, then drew her to his side so he could see everybody else. Lucy put her hand on his arm. “It seems Janet saw a little more yesterday than we wanted her to. But I’m glad, because I’ve been wanting to tell them for a while.”

  “I was so sorry to have to deceive you, Aunt Margaret.” he exclaimed. “But I couldn’t think what else to do.“

  “I understand,” Mrs. Carmichael said gravely, and Philip suddenly realised, and looked at Lucy who gave him a slight nod. “I feel so much better about leaving you here.” he said. “Now they understand how important it is, they’ll make sure you aren’t taken away.” Mrs. Carmichael smiled and nodded her confirmation.

  “Why, is there a chance?”

  He covered her hand with his own, turned to look at her. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he said, “But there was always the chance that if your mother discovered you she might try to get you back at all costs.” He felt her shudder and pressed her hand reassuringly before releasing it.

  “We’ll take great care of her,” promised Mrs. Carmichael, and Philip turned his head to smile at her with gratitude.

  “I owe you more than I can ever repay,” he said.

  “Then you mustn’t try,” said his aunt firmly.

  ***

  There followed an idyllic few days when Philip was allowed to court Lucy, openly show his affection for her. She delighted in his gentle courtship, blossomed again under his care. They went to the park, sat together in the small parlour, always with another young lady to keep them company. Mrs. Carmichael was much more careful of the proprieties than Lady Royston. The most they were allowed alone together was five minutes, when Lucy was allowed to bid him goodbye on leaving, but they were content for the time being with that. The recent shocks which Lucy had been subjected to began to heal under the quiet, domestic regime.