Loving Lucy

by Lynne Connolly

  “Yes, my lady,” said the maid, but with a tone of censure in her voice Lucy had come to know well. She turned and confronted her maid, suddenly angry.

  “When I am married, I wish to take more control of my own wardrobe. I would appreciate it if you ceased to consult with my mother on my clothes, and came to me directly.”

  Curtis looked at her, and Lucy thought she saw her mouth twitch. A smile would be too much to hope for. “Yes, my lady.” The anger with her maid eased away, as Lucy recognised that Curtis wasn’t her real concern.

  “And,” Lucy pursued, sensing her advantage, “I will have a certain position to uphold. I think you could do with an assistant. While I’ve been away, I’ve been looked after by Potter, who used to work here as a chambermaid.” She waited for recognition from Curtis. After a moment the maid lowered her eyes and nodded. “A girl of quick understanding, my lady,” she said.

  “Potter wouldn’t be able to look after me in my new position. She has no idea of the Grande Toilette, and has minimal skills with the more expensive fabrics like lace. Nevertheless I have found her very useful, and I propose to take her on as your assistant. But since she would spend most of her day with you I would like to know that you would be agreeable to the scheme.”

  “It would be my pleasure to teach her, my lady,” said the maid, although her sour expression suggested otherwise. But Lucy knew better, that the sourness and taciturnity masked a kindness the maid was usually careful to conceal.

  Lucy nodded, smiled, and left the room to find her mother.

  ***

  Lady Royston was where Lucy expected her to be; in the drawing room. It was too early for visitors, but Lady Royston preferred to use the grand reception room on the first floor to the more intimate morning room downstairs, except when she was conducting household business. She sat in a gilded armchair, Aunt Honoria in a lesser chair by her side. The arms and the general style of the chair suggested a throne. Lucy made her curtsey and then went to kiss her mother on her powdery cheek, and then her aunt. She longed to thank her aunt for what she had learned from Potter was her invaluable help that night, but she didn’t want to start the discussion.

  “Good evening, Lucy.”

  “Good evening Mama, good evening Aunt Honoria.”

  “Dinner will be in half an hour. We will be alone. I wish to speak to you first.” There was a pause, designed, Lucy thought, to increase her nervousness. Although this wasn’t like before, she needed the time. She decided she would let her mother lead the way for now, until she saw which way the land lay.

  Lady Royston looked at her, taking her time before she began to speak. “I am severely displeased with you, Lucy. Your departure was exceedingly difficult to explain.” Another pause. Lucy said nothing, although she knew she was expected to apologise. “I have been very put out, I never expected such behaviour of you.” The large, pink ostrich feather on the crown on Lady Royston’s magnificent turban quivered, an echo of her indignation. Her pale hands rested carefully, palm up, on her pink satin lap. “I will therefore allow certain people to visit, but I will put it about that you are still convalescent and you wish to rest so you are perfectly well for your wedding. We will go to St. George’s on Easter Sunday.”

  So far, Lucy didn’t object, though if she had been allowed out into society, she might have found an opportunity to slip away. In a way she was relieved. She knew she couldn’t keep running, although she could have wished to remain hidden for another few days. Perhaps this way she could persuade her mother not to force a public argument. So for now, she said; “Yes Mama.”

  “I can only be thankful we found you before your wedding day. There is news about that, but I’ll leave it to Sir Geoffrey to tell you, since he expressly requested it of me. I am a woman who believes in keeping to my obligations.” It was meant as a reproof.

  “I will not marry Sir Geoffrey, Mama.” Suddenly, Lucy made another decision. A small one, but significant. She would never call her mother ‘Mama’ again. Since her discoveries, and her hurt at the way her mother had used her, any fondness she had felt had crept away with the unthinking obedience she used to offer her elders.

  “Nonsense.” Lady Royston’s carefully creamed and powdered brow creased into a disapproving frown. “You have signed the contract and declared your intention. There is no reason I can think of why the marriage should not take place.”

  “Can you not? Did Aunt Honoria not tell you?”

  “Tell me what?” the sharp gaze went to the faded woman by her side, and Lucy could have bitten her tongue out rather than cause her gentle aunt any discomfort. However, the damage was done now.

  “Aunt Honoria saw what he did to me. I cannot marry a man like that, mother.” The new word, so much colder than the fond ‘Mama’ passed unnoticed.

  “He beat her,” Aunt Honoria said quietly, her voice quivering with the emotion she dared not voice. “And abused her.” The word ‘rape’ wasn’t to be mentioned in Lady Royston’s drawing room.

  “He anticipated the wedding a little,” said Lady Royston in ponderous tones, as though she was teaching a child. “And if he offered you any chastisement, it was well deserved. You had behaved in a hoydenish way, and passed beyond the bounds of what he was prepared to accept.”

  “I went to my lawyer’s office.” protested Lucy. “And Lord Royston and Lord Wenlock were there so what impropriety could there have been?”

  “Dear God.” Lady Royston’s voice quivered with emotion, and the feather shivered in violent motion. “That I should bear such an ungrateful child. I find the perfect husband for you and you so nearly push him away with your appalling behaviour. That you should think of going anywhere with that man. Don’t you know what he wants to do to us?”

  Lucy reflected that she knew very well what he wanted to do to her, or rather, with her, but she stayed silent for the time being. She would bide her time, keep to her refusal to marry Sir Geoffrey, and wait for Philip to return from Norfolk. She doubted her ability to defy her mother on more than one front.

  Lady Royston’s lecture continued. “From now until your wedding day you will remain within this house except when you cannot avoid otherwise. Then Greene will go with you. He will never leave you. You will not repeat your foolish actions of last month.”

  She looked at Lucy gravely in silence for several minutes. “I am deeply ashamed that you forgot your position so much as to do what you did. I wish to draw a veil over the whole affair. As far as I am concerned, you have been ill, and you are now returned to be married. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, mother, it’s clear,” Lucy said, and feeling slightly sick, she continued, “But I will not marry Sir Geoffrey. He is a brute, and most likely will kill me within the first year.”

  “Nonsense. He is a perfect gentleman, a man of perfect ton.”

  “And no fortune.”

  “That too is an exaggeration,” said her mother. “I have been in conversation with him on that score and I am perfectly satisfied on that subject. True, his fortune does not approach the size of yours, but it is enough.”

  Lucy nearly choked on the mendacity of the statement, and the thought that, until this last month, she had trusted her mother implicitly. “His fortune,” she said, “According to Mr. Chumleigh, is non existent.”

  Her mother coloured up. “You would take the word of an employee rather than your mothers’?” she demanded. Her voice rose louder as her temper rose. “You trust strangers more than you trust me? I shouldn’t have to explain this to you, Lucy, but I will. Sir Geoffrey has invested in what will be a highly lucrative venture. His capital is tied up in it, but in the next two years, it will be returned to him threefold. He will be a wealthy man. And you will be his wife.”

  “No I won’t.”

  “We shall see,” said her ladyship in a smoother tone, taking control of her temper once more, “If Sir Geoffrey cannot persuade you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lucy dreaded meeting her erstwhile torm
entor again, but continued to feel strong. She hoped the Carmichaels might come and see her, and despite their non appearance the next day, she still hoped they would come. She couldn’t decide what she would do - go back with them or stay here, but she rather thought she would prefer to go back to Red Lion Square and be married from there. It was ridiculous but she felt like a prisoner here. In her own house, with her family about her, she was kept close. But Lucy had decided on her course. She would try to make her mother see reason, and be resolute in her refusal to marry Sir Geoffrey Sanders. No one could force her to marry against her will. It was illegal now. If they insisted she would leave, even if it meant sneaking out of the house in the early hours. No – she would leave in her own coach, and take her belongings with her. She would show them.

  Sir Geoffrey called just after noon. Lucy was up and dressed in a deliberately sober dark green gown, made high to the neck with a little ruffle of lace to lighten the effect a trifle. The gown was decorated with braid darker in colour than the body of the gown, so it was a very sober Lucy who went downstairs to the morning room. She stopped outside, where her mother waited. “I will see him,” she told her. “But not alone.”

  “You will see him any way he wants you to,” she stated.

  Lucy shook her head. “I will observe all the proprieties with him.”

  Lady Royston opened her mouth to speak but before she did so, Aunt Honoria drifted forward. “I will accompany Lucy,” she said. That showed great bravery on her part, to defy her dominant sister in such a way.

  Lucy smiled at her gratefully. “Then I’ll see him.”

  “If I say you’ll se him then you will,” said Lady Royston, trying to rescue her authority in the situation.

  Leaving trails of fluttering scarves and drapery in her wake Aunt Honoria led the way into the morning room. Lady Royston had probably chosen it because of the increased intimacy of the smaller room, Lucy thought. She took a deep breath and prepared herself.

  The sight of Sir Geoffrey sent a surge of remembrance through her, and when he touched her hand in greeting, touching his lips to the back, she was hard put to it not to snatch it away. She had to admit, to herself at least, that she was afraid of him.

  “Lucy, I’m glad to see you well,” he said. He tried to retain her hand in his, lead her to the sofa, but she withdrew it and sat in a chair. He was forced to make do with Aunt Honoria’s company on the sofa. “I would have preferred to see you in private,” he said gently, but Lucy shook her head.

  “It isn’t proper,” she told him. He couldn’t argue with that, and it was easier than admitting she was afraid of him.

  Tea things had been laid out on a little table by the fire, so Lucy got up and busied herself with the business of making and serving tea. Conversation was desultory, since she didn’t attempt to demonstrate her society-manners.

  The tea dispensed, Lucy sat down again. Sir Geoffrey picked up the silver spoon and clinked it round in the cup, before rapping it on the side and replacing it in the saucer. He put the cup down on the table standing between his sofa and the chair Lucy had chosen for herself.

  “Lucy, I wanted first to apologise for my conduct to you when we met last,” he said.

  Lucy’s heart seemed to miss a beat.

  “It was necessary, to get you back to your home. I don’t think either of us would have wished for a scene.”

  With a cold shock Lucy realised he meant yesterday in the park. That was nothing compared with what he’d done to her before. “It seems to be of a piece with the rest of your behaviour,” she said coldly.

  “Now that’s not fair.” he protested. Lucy stared at him in disbelief. “The only time I laid hands on you in anger you richly deserved your punishment, and if I hadn’t undertaken it, your mother would have.”

  She stared into his eyes, so soft, so deeply affectionate, and couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Glancing at her aunt, she saw the older lady’s look of blank astonishment.

  “What you did passed the bounds of chastisement,” she said. “I cannot believe you consider such a thing right.”

  “Sometimes women have to be chastised,” he said. His tone was that of a patient parent explaining to a recalcitrant child. “They don’t always know what is good for them.”

  “Then, Geoffrey, I fear we must part. I cannot agree with such an attitude, and I cannot live in contentment with anyone who holds it.” Lucy carried a reticule; out of it she took the sapphire ring which had rested on her dressing table until this morning. “I think you should take this back,” she said.

  His face darkened. Frowning, he picked up the ring. “You will wear it,” he said. “I will put it on your finger next Tuesday.”

  “Tuesday?” Lucy looked, bewildered at Geoffrey and then at her aunt’s pale face. Miss Simonson shook her head slightly, to indicate she was as confused as Lucy. They looked back at Sir Geoffrey for an explanation.

  He smiled, showing even, white teeth. “Lady Royston and I have arranged that the marriage be brought forward. You can look forward to becoming Lady Sanders on Tuesday my dear, when I shall return this ring to you.”

  “No.” All Lucy’s bravery slipped away from her. This was Saturday; could Philip be back in time? She doubted it. He could easily do the journey on his own in a day, but the Bishop was an old gentleman, and wouldn’t appreciate being hurried. “I will not marry you.”

  “You’ve already consented to the marriage and signed the contract,” he informed her. “If it wasn’t for my warm regard for you I would leave now and take steps to sue you for breach of contract. Who would have you then?”

  He looked at her challengingly, but she refrained from telling him. Better she keep some surprises to herself. She could hardly believe she had ever had warm feelings for this man, despite his good looks. Was he mad? She shook her head. “I won’t marry you,” she repeated. “And to sue me for breach of contract would expose you as the worst kind of scoundrel.”

  “But a much richer one,” he said, showing his teeth again. “And it would ruin you in the eyes of the world.” His face turned serious again. “But, Lucy, I was sincere in my feelings for you. I do love you, and I do wish you to be my wife. I know you can become more conformable in time, and - “ he glanced at Aunt Honoria but decided to continue - “I would like some more of the sweets I’ve already tasted.”

  Shocked, Lucy leapt to her feet and headed for the door, but he was too quick for her. He blocked her exit, standing in front of her. Aunt Honoria stood up behind him, unable to aid her niece.

  Sir Geoffrey seized her and kissed her. She kept her mouth resolutely shut, but she could feel his tongue pushing at her lips, trying to get in. Like a slug, she thought, and felt sick when she thought it. She stood, her face screwed up, denying him access, but he didn’t seem in the least put out. “Smiling, he drew back, but didn’t release her. “ This,” he stated, “Is going to be fun.”

  Swiftly, he turned and left the room.

  Lucy found her handkerchief and carefully wiped her face clean of him, then looked at Miss Simonson, her distress clearly evident. That kind but ineffectual lady at once came forward and took her in her arms. “Tuesday.” Lucy whispered. She drew a deep breath of that comforting smell of lavender, which always lingered about her aunt. “I won’t, Aunt Honoria, I won’t.”

  “My dear, you may have to,” said Miss Simonson. She drew back and looked at Lucy. “I saw what he did to you, you know.”

  “Yes,” said Lucy. Suddenly she realised what Miss Simonson meant and smiled. “I’m not having his child,” she said simply.

  Aunt Honoria drew her close again. “Oh my dear, I was so afraid he had.” she exclaimed. “Then what will you do?”

  “Wait,” said Lucy. “I won’t marry him. If need be I’ll declare it at the altar.”

  “But what if he sues?”

  “Let him.” she said in tones of deep disgust. “It would be worth it to be rid of him.”

  “You cannot know what you’re sa
ying.” came the shocked response. “You would be ruined.”

  Lucy shook her head. “Don’t worry, Aunt. I won’t.” But she knew the extent of the possible scandal if she jilted Sir Geoffrey and then married Philip almost immediately after. She would be spurned everywhere, talked and written about.

  “Has there been much scandal so far?” she asked. “Has my mother scotched it all?”

  “Not all,” said Miss Simonson sadly. “Some people are still suspicious about your sudden disappearance.”

  Lucy sighed. “I’m afraid there will be some fuss,” she said. “But if only I could bring my mother round, there needn’t be much.”

  ***

  Lucy went to her room and refused to come out for the rest of the day. She assuaged her boredom by reading a novel Aunt Honoria had got from Hookham’s, and took her dinner on a tray in her room.

  She waited, but no one came. The doorbell rang a few times, but no one came in, no one insisted on seeing her. She shed a few private tears and went to bed, feeling friendless and alone.

  The next day was Easter Sunday. Lucy accompanied her mother and aunt to St. George’s’ Chapel at Windsor, with the ubiquitous Greene travelling with them as footman.

  Not only was the Regent present, but the old King too. Lucy thought he looked very thin. Two grim faced men sat on either side of him; his warders. He had periods of lucidity, but nowadays he was mostly mad. Lucy thought he looked sane enough, except for his beard, the only time she could remember seeing one on a man. She wouldn’t like to get too close to him, though. You could never tell who was mad and who wasn’t, just by looking.

  The carriage journey was a pleasant change to the four walls she had been forced to endure for the last couple of days. Lucy wasn’t used to being mewed up all day.