Loving Lucy

by Lynne Connolly

  She knew it couldn’t be for long. She’d been due to marry Sir Geoffrey on the Friday after Easter, April 11th, and Easter was approaching fast. Lady Royston had carefully arranged her wedding to Sir Geoffrey wedding so it would be the first event of the Season, when People would be arriving in London for the Season proper. They would have been married quietly in the morning, and then gone back to the house for a wedding breakfast. Lucy was to have faced the coming Season as a married woman, too busy with her new life and the social round to be overly concerned with financial matters.

  The following Monday, Lucy’s joy was compounded, but she had to wait until Tuesday to tell Philip.

  He knew something was different when she met him at the door and led him into the small parlour where they were alone. He looked around, one eyebrow raised in query. “Mrs. Carmichael has let us have a little time together, because I have something to tell you,” she said. She took both his hands and looked at him, smiling shyly. “I’m not going to have Geoffrey Welsh’s baby.”

  He stood stock still and stared at her, until she saw the realisation flood over him. “Oh Lucy, oh my love.” he cried, and pulled her into an embrace which was not at all gentle. He kissed her hard, and she responded, as joyful as he.

  To her surprise, she thought she felt him shaking, so she led him to the sofa. He sat down and bemusedly put his arm across the back of the seat so she could move close to him. “I was almost sure - oh, Lucy.” he breathed.

  “I was almost sure too, but it was probably the shock,” she said. She had to wait for him to catch up with her. After all, she’d had more time to get used to it. “It would have been the hardest thing I’d ever had to do in my life,” he confessed. “To let you go through with what was an eminently sensible plan, but such a difficult one. We would have been living in fear all the time, afraid of being discovered.”

  She smiled. “But instead -”

  “Instead,” he said, a little more steadily, looking down at her face. “Instead it’s a matter of - two weeks? Less.” he kissed her, gently this time.

  “Can we really be married so soon?”

  “Yes - I - oh, yes we can.” he thought rapidly. “I can get a Special Licence. The only thing is, my love, I would dearly like to get it from the Bishop of Diss.”

  “Uncle George?” she said. He was a great uncle, so he was a relation to both of them.

  “He was very kind to Bernard and me, especially when we lost Mama,” he said. “He’s always taken special care of us. He conducted Bernard’s funeral - “ he paused, but then went on, determined to think of only happy things today - “And I would love him to marry us. He always said he would, when the time came.”

  “Where does he live?”

  “Well normally, he has a house in London, but he will have gone to his diocese for Easter.” He thought. “I can go and ask him.”

  She took his hand. “I don’t know him as well as you, but it means a lot to you, so I think you should. Well if you travel down tomorrow, you can spend Easter with him and then bring him back, if he’s willing to come.”

  He smiled at her. “I should like that. Even if he can’t come back, he can sign the Licence. But I think he’ll come.”

  “And I shall order a wedding gown,” she said.

  He smiled and kissed her. “Is April the twelfth too soon? The day after the old contract is up?”

  She smiled back. “Philip, I would love that.”

  So it was decided upon.

  ***

  The Carmichaels readily entered into the plans for the wedding, but Lucy kept one thing to herself. The day after, she took Christina and Janet, and hailed a hackney. She refused to tell them where they were going, and told the driver their destination when the other two were safely stowed inside, before she climbed in.

  The carriage bowled smartly along Piccadilly and stopped at a very exclusive establishment. “Come on,” said Lucy, grinning. They climbed down and went inside, Lucy with assurance, the other two doubtfully.

  Once inside they stood and waited. Lucy’s deep poke bonnet and plain garb meant she was ignored for a moment or two, but as soon as she loosened the ribbons and took off her headgear someone came forward.

  The mistress of the establishment, one Madame Cerisot, swept forward. “Lady Lucy. Such a pleasure to see you here.”

  Lucy smiled. “Is my mother here or expected?”

  “No, my lady.”

  “If she arrives, I will leave,” Lucy said firmly. She received a look of perfect understanding from Madame, but it probably masked utter bewilderment and rampant curiosity. “Am I correct in my assumption that you get much of your fabric from Carmichael’s?” she asked. “I have visited their shop in Bond Street and I like what they have to offer.”

  “Indeed, my lady.” There was no accounting for the whims of the Quality.

  “I am to be married next week,” she continued. “And I have changed my mind about the gown I would like. Also, these two ladies have consented to be my attendants. Do you think you could come up with something in that time?”

  “I’m sure we can, my lady,” came the assured reply. Madame Cerisot’s ubiquitous gaze swept over them, taking in everything she needed to know in one glance. “If you would come this way,” she said, and she led the way into another room where they might be more private. The show rooms were almost empty, pending the influx of fashionable customers after Easter. This commission would tide her over nicely.

  There followed a delirious session of fabrics, gowns and drawings, discussions as to the relative merits of gauze, lace and satin, in which everybody had a hand. Fabrics were brought for their consideration, and they eventually decided on a white satin petticoat, embroidered at the hem with grapes and vine leaves in silver, and an overdress of ethereal blue crepe, embroidered in the same manner as the petticoat and bordered with rouleaux of white satin. The top was of crepe, as were the short, flounced sleeves, edged with lace, embroidered with grapes and enhanced by seed pearls. Lucy would wear a pearl necklace with this ensemble, and a scarf of fine lace, and when she was outside, a spencer of darker blue velvet with an Elizabethan collar. She was determined to do Philip proud.

  The girls were a little more difficult. Their deep bosoms meant the décolleté had to be carefully thought out, and their broad backs demanded some thought. But Lucy knew she had chosen right in Madame Cerisot.

  The backs of the gowns would be cut narrower, the sleeves given a deeper armhole to minimise the back, and the décolleté of both women was very carefully measured. Cerisot was wonderfully complimentary to both of them, until they simpered with the extravagant flattery.

  They would have gowns in blue, but in different shades to Lucy’s in shades which suited their lighter brown hair and florid colouring. The designs were similar, but not identical, to suit their figures. Christina, who was slimmer than Janet but with just as full a bosom, would show to great advantage in hers.

  When they had placed the orders with Madame, Lucy asked them to be delivered to Grosvenor Square. “I don’t want anyone to know where I am,” she explained, when Madame gave her an old-fashioned look. “I’ll arrange to have them picked up from there. I’m charging you now, don’t tell my mother where I am, otherwise, I’ll never shop here again.”

  Madame swore not to disclose the fact she had seen Lucy that day, and promised to deliver the gowns by Easter Monday. It crossed Lucy’s guilty conscience that someone would be working over Easter to make these creations, but she decided that perhaps they would prefer the money they got. It wasn’t an entirely convincing explanation, but it would do for now.

  Madame furnished them with samples of the fabrics and they went on to the milliners’. Lucy charged the milliner not to tell her mother, as she had the dressmaker, and received a similar promise. She knew the information that Lady Lucy Moore had quarrelled with her mother would be all over town by nightfall, but she didn’t care. Her mother would still not know where she was, for the modistes knew she mean
t what she said.

  She chose a delicious high crowned shallow brimmed hat, decorated with ostrich feathers the exact shade of her gown. She encouraged the girls to choose something equally fashionable but they preferred a quieter style, bonnets trimmed with ribbons and flowers.

  Mightily pleased with herself, Lucy took them home in a cab. She knew her expedition had been somewhat risky, but it seemed as though it had passed without mishap, and they’d had a marvellous time

  While Christina regaled her Mama with the story of the day, Lucy saw Janet sitting quietly by her side. Janet was usually as voluble as her sisters, but she seemed brooding, sulky almost.

  Lucy guessed the cause. Now she knew Fiona was really Lucy, and Philip’s lifelong love, she must know her chances with him were completely gone. Lucy hadn’t hidden her affection for him, and in her happiness had forgotten what the overlooked Janet must be feeling. While she knew Philip hadn’t led Janet on, she also knew how girls could build up dreams for themselves, and ignore reality. She had done much the same with Sir Geoffrey, ignoring the unpalatable side of his character, and concentrating on his good looks and his ton.

  She thought of confronting Janet with this, but dismissed it quickly. Far better for Mrs. Carmichael to deal with it, or even Christina. Janet wouldn’t welcome an advance from her, she was sure. She hoped Janet would get over her infatuation quickly. There was very little she could do.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lucy determined to be particularly kind to Janet, so when, on Good Friday, the girl suggested they walk in the park, in the centre of red Lion Square she accepted with alacrity. She had received her first letter from Philip since he had been away that morning. It informed her briefly that he’d arrived safely and he would talk to the Bishop as soon as he could, so Lucy was in a very good mood.

  That meant they could be talking now, Lucy reflected, if the first service had concluded. Her great uncle was a good trencherman, so he would want a good meal after such a travail. She smiled sunnily at Janet, who returned it faintly. “You will have to come to stay with us when I move into Grosvenor Square,” she said. “I can introduce you to some people I think you might like.” She was determined to give the Carmichael girls the chance to meet some of her friends, the ones who would not look down their noses at a City girl with an excellent fortune. She might be able to catch herself an impoverished peer, although it would take a lot of money or very specific tastes to cope with Janet’s essential roundness. But some men liked that kind of ample fleshiness, and her face was pretty. A shame about the pockmarks, but they weren’t that bad, and many people still had them, despite the growing popularity of inoculations.

  “Don’t you plan to go away?” Janet asked.

  Lucy shook her head. “No, not for a while. I want to show myself in society, establish myself as Lady Royston. That way my mother won’t be able to poison people against me.”

  “I can’t believe she would do that.” Janet exclaimed.

  “Why? Do you know her?”

  “No, of course not,” came the swift reply. “But it would be such an unnatural thing for a mother to do.”

  “She doesn’t like Philip,” Lucy said briefly.

  Janet looked at her curiously. “But that wouldn’t make her turn against her only daughter. Perhaps what you did might do that.”

  “Leaving her, you mean? She certainly wouldn’t like that.”

  “What mother would?”

  Lucy was forced to admit that Janet had a point. She still felt guilty at this separation and defiance, and worried that her mother would be deeply concerned, but she also knew her mother had a will of iron, and would do a great deal to get her way. She couldn’t face losing Philip now, but she determined to visit her mother as soon after her wedding as she could. If Lady Royston would see her.

  They had walked to the far end of the square, and turned to walk back.

  It was then that Lucy saw them. Two men walking towards her with determination and speed. It was too late to run, and she was rooted to the spot in terror. The first time she had seen him since that dreadful night.

  All Philip’s loving care, all his protectiveness fell away in that moment, leaving her raw and hurting. Although the wounds on her back were healed, they felt stiff, as though welcoming their begetter back. She took a deep breath in a vain effort to steady herself, but she could put on that long practised society face and hide her terror. She felt every line of her face, carefully checking it was all in place.

  Sir Geoffrey bowed too low for politeness. It bordered on parody. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning Sir Geoffrey,” she said, facing him boldly despite her rapidly beating heart.

  “So formal?” his tone was mocking.

  To her self disgust Lucy felt herself begin to shake. She found it hard to control, but she dropped Janet’s arm and gripped her hands tightly together. Sir Geoffrey saw the gesture, and she was afraid he understood its meaning.

  “Don’t you think it’s time to come home?” he asked. “I’ve come to fetch you. Your mother is expecting you.”

  “Does she know where I am?” she asked quickly.

  “Yes,” he said. “She is distressed that you should think of staying this side of town, but I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”

  “I think,” Lucy said slowly, “I prefer to stay here, for the time being.”

  Sir Geoffrey shook his head regretfully. “I fear that’s impossible. There’s too much to do before next Friday and she desires you to come home.”

  “Go to the house, Janet,” said Lucy. “Fetch them here.”

  She glanced over to where Janet stood, just behind her, but the girl stood resolutely still. “You should go home,” she said. “See your mother.” She put her chin up. Lucy looked from her to Geoffrey and suddenly she knew this wasn’t their first meeting. Foolish, foolish Janet.

  “I will,” Lucy replied. “But not like this.”

  “You will,” said Sir Geoffrey, his voice filled with menace, “do as you are told.”

  Before Lucy could respond, Greene had moved to the other side of her, preventing any precipitate return to the house. Lucy looked wildly about her. There was no one in the gardens now, except for them, and only a few people further away. Shouting would be useless. Janet stood quietly, watching, a slight smile on her eager face.

  Lucy tried to push past Greene to get back to the house, but as she did so, the man seized her by both arms, holding her easily despite her struggles. He pressed a hand to her neck. Panicked, Lucy tried to cry out, but she couldn’t, and when Greene pressed from the other side of her neck, a black curtain fell over her senses.

  ***

  Lucy woke up in a room she knew, but not the one she wanted to wake up in.

  The bedroom was just as she remembered, but it seemed different to her now. She looked around her without moving but she couldn’t see anyone in the room with her so she ventured to sit up.

  She seemed unharmed. It was as though the whole of the past month was a dream. She shook her head, clearing the last of the muzziness, and saw the clothes she had put on that morning thrown over a chair. The plain dark blue looked as though it belonged to someone else. In a way, it did.

  Suddenly she threw back the bedcovers and ran to the chair, snatching up the gown. She fumbled inside it, and with a sigh of relief discovered what she wanted. A small pouch, containing a little key and a ring, a half hoop of diamonds.

  She threw the gown back over the chair and climbed back into bed, clutching the pouch, her only talisman.

  They had brought her home. This grand, cold room, nothing out of place except the suddenly dowdy clothes was her bedroom. Her heart sank. She stared at the furnishings, the elegant, large dressing table with its orderly regiment of cut glass bottles and jars, their silver tops winking at her in the sunlight streaming through the window.

  Someone had undressed her, so someone had seen the marks on her back. No - she realised she wasn’t in her night gown but
her chemise, the garment she wore under all of her day clothes. They had stripped off her outer garments and put her to bed to recover.

  Fear gripped her stomach, she felt sick and ill, but she determined not to give in to it. She hated that feeling. Every time she had felt it before, she’d given in. Not this time. She had too much to lose.

  Did they know about Philip? She hoped not. And how had they found out where she was? Remembering the scene in the park Lucy had her suspicions, but she was loath to give in to them. Speculation was a waste of time. She had no idea what she was going to do now, or what she would be allowed to do, but she might as well get up and face it. Otherwise, she knew she would feel sicker.

  Accordingly, she threw the sheets aside and got out of bed. Since the clothes she had arrived in were the most accessible, she picked up the gown. Her stays lay underneath it. She put them on.

  The door to the bedroom opened and her abigail came in. Not Potter, but Curtis, the maid she’d been allotted when she came out into society, a dragon who had a way with hair. Curtis bowed her head, said, “My lady,” as though Lucy had never been away and drew back the chair to the dressing table.

  Sighing, Lucy sat down and submitted to having her hair dressed. It all seemed inevitable, and it would give her some time to think, to steady her whirling thoughts. At one point she put her hand up and said, “Closer to the head, if you please. And let a curl drop on to my shoulder.” The maid stopped, looked at her and obliged, in silence. Before this, Curtis had made all the decisions about Lucy’s appearance, guided by her mother. Since their efforts had met with considerable success, Lucy had been happy to let them. But no longer.

  She had no objection to the gown Curtis had chosen for her, an evening gown in her favourite shade of cerulean blue, sprigged with little white snowdrops. But it had more decoration than she was used to, and she thought it could do with a little less. “Before I wear this again,” she said, “I’d like this removed.” She flipped at a frill on the bodice. She would show everyone she had changed, live up to her new ideals, and although her dress was a relatively unimportant part of it, it would help to indicate her intentions.