“Yes,” agreed Lucy. “Home.”
“I fear we may receive a visit from your mother,” said Mrs. Carmichael. “We’ll refuse her if you wish, and we’ll refuse Sir Geoffrey too.”
“No,” said Lucy. “If they come here I want to see them. I want to tell them about my real wedding myself. Especially Geoffrey,” she added reflectively.
***
They made Lucy stay in bed and rest for the remainder of the day. The only person who didn’t come to see her was Janet, but Lucy had her suspicions about that. Frances brought her some flowers; Millicent stayed and read with her for a while. It was as though she was a proper sister to them, and Lucy knew she would never cease to be grateful.
Thursday morning brought a surprise. Potter was busy helping her to dress when a knock sounded on her door. “There’s a very superior female outside,” Mrs. Carmichael told her. “And she says she’s your maid, Curtis. She also has a carriage packed with what she says are your clothes.”
“Well Curtis is my maid,” Lucy said. “Send her up, if you please.”
While she was waiting, she explained the position to Potter. “You’ve done very well for me here,” she said, “But you haven’t yet got the experience to serve me as lady’s maid when I marry Lord Royston; you can’t do a grand toilette, and there are other things you need to learn. I’ve asked Curtis if she will take you as her assistant, to be trained in the things you don’t know. Would you like that?”
Eyes shining, Potter said; “Oh yes, my lady.”
“I don’t know if I want to keep Curtis,” Lucy continued, “But I will keep you.”
The woman in question entered the room. While Curtis was a slim woman, she was tall and imposing, and in this room, so much smaller than Lucy’s bedroom at home, she seemed to fill more space than she was entitled to. She curtseyed. “Good morning, my lady. I have packed all your belongings and brought them here. Lady Royston says she doesn’t want to see me again, but she will provide me with a reference. If you wish, I would prefer to stay on with you as your ladies’ maid, but I will leave immediately if you want me to.”
Lucy looked at her straightly. “One question. When you gave me that second dose, did you know my mother had been dosing me too?”
“No indeed, my lady,” she replied in indignation. “And - forgive me for saying it - if you had succumbed to the drug, I think I would have been the one to take the blame. I do not believe her ladyship would have admitted her part in it, and I gave you the dose openly.” That aspect of it hadn’t occurred to Lucy yet, but under consideration, she knew Curtis was right. Her mother wouldn’t have hesitated to throw Curtis to the wolves if it meant saving her own skin.
It was enough to persuade her. “Very well. If you could unpack what I need here. And one more thing - I’m to marry Lord Royston on Saturday.” She waited for her maid to react. The lady flushed bright red and her small eyes opened wide in astonishment. “So I might not need too much here. I shall require you to take the bulk of my luggage to the house in Grosvenor Square and settle it there.”
The excellent maid recovered her equilibrium quickly, and curtseyed. “I’ll see to it at once, my lady.”
“You remember Potter?”
“Indeed, my lady.”
“She will assist you from now on, in any way you see fit.”
Curtis came forward and took the brush from Potter’s unresisting hand. “Then may I suggest this?”
***
Lucy found herself coiffured, dressed and downstairs quicker than Potter could ever have managed. Curtis knew exactly where the morning gowns were, and sent Potter to unpack a yellow cotton gown, self striped and decorated with slashes and rouleaux around the hem. She met Mr. Carmichael and his son in the dining room, having a late breakfast. They were fully dressed, and Lucy guessed they had been out already, about their business. She smiled warmly at them. “I’m so glad to be back.”
“We’re glad to have you back, my dear” said the elder Mr. Carmichael. “We’ll be sure to keep you safe until Saturday.”
“I know,” she answered. “But I hope my mother realises now that I mean what I say.”
“I cannot believe she would do such things.” said Rodney. His usually pleasant face darkened in a frown when he thought of what Lady Royston had done.
“She’s used to having her own way,” Lucy told him. “And she will do a great deal to accomplish it.” She went to the sideboard where a tempting array of hot dishes lay, picked up a plate and began to help herself to breakfast. “I hope she’ll persuade herself that calling off my marriage to Sir Geoffrey is her idea. That’s what she usually does.”
In a way, that proved to be the case. Lucy expected Lady Royston to visit and she wasn’t disappointed. At two that afternoon she waited with some tea things in the drawing room, at her request on her own, and she watched from the window until her mother arrived.
The disparaging look her ladyship cast at the house didn’t go unnoticed, and when she was shown up to the drawing room she looked around her for a long minute.
“Red Lion Square.” she exclaimed in a voice which had as many vowels in it as it could take, each long drawn out word a condemnation. “Come home my dear. You can’t possibly stay here.”
“Why not?” Lucy demanded. She set to pouring the tea. “It’s respectable and the family are good to me.”
“But it’s the City. Lucy.”
“Yes, mother?” Lucy brought her tea over to her, since they were alone.
“The family here must be quite beyond redemption.”
Lucy sat down again. “They are Lord Royston’s cousins and perfectly respectable. In fact, they are more than respectable. If I were marrying for money, mother, I would be hard put to it to find a better match than Rodney Carmichael.”
Her mother stared. “But they’re only Cits.”
“They own warehouses, shops, even a manufactory in the North,” Lucy said. She watched her mother’s reactions carefully. Snobbery warred with avarice, she guessed. She knew her mother well.
Lady Royston looked about her again, this time more carefully, and then looked back at her daughter. “Still - “ she said. “ Red Lion Square. How can your friends visit you?”
“In their carriages,” Lucy said calmly. “It’s not far. I can walk if I want to.” She remembered that long walk down Oxford Street.
Suddenly brisk, her mother asked; “I have to know what you mean to do, Lucy. I am still hopeful of carrying this off without any scandal. You cannot stay here, society will think there has been a breach.”
“Hasn’t there?” Lucy said. “I was drugged by my mother, almost compelled to marry a man whose attentions had become repellent to me, and you want to avoid scandal?” her voice rose a little; with an effort she controlled it. “Do you know what he did? Did Aunt Honoria tell you?”
“She mentioned something,” her mother admitted, on the defensive.
“He would have killed me within a year,” she said. “Was it worth it, just to get your hands on my fortune?”
“I beg your pardon.”
Lucy smiled when she realised that suddenly her mother didn’t intimidate her any more. She felt stronger, able to cope. “Mr. Chumleigh showed me the books. You’ve been living on my fortune since my father died. You never spent any of your jointure, did you? Well now you’re going to have to, mother.” She watched with unholy joy as her mother’s expression froze, a sure sign she was agitated. “And your debts are your own. If you try to shame me into paying them, I’ll send a letter to the papers denying any responsibility for them. I believe that is the usual course?” The freezing look she bestowed upon her mother was worthy of that lady herself.
Lady Royston sat bolt upright in her chair and gave her daughter a Look. “You would not dare.”
The door opened while she was speaking, and unannounced, Philip entered the room. “Yes she would,” he said. He came across the room and bowed to the dowager punctiliously, and then took Lucy’s hand a
nd kissed it. He had a greatcoat on over his other clothes, and didn’t look as though he meant to stay. “Whatever it is,” he said. “She will dare, and I will support her in it.”
“What has this to do with you?” Lady Royston demanded.
“In case you have forgotten,” Philip replied smoothly, “I am the head of this branch of the family. And I have also the privilege of speaking as her affianced husband.” He exchanged a warm glance with Lucy.
“No. Sir Geoffrey has that right.”
“Not after tomorrow,” Philip reminded her. “Have you sent that notice to the papers, my love?”
Lady Royston winced at the endearment. Exactly why he had used it. Lucy smiled and nodded. “First thing,” she said. “That the marriage of the Lady Lucy Moore and Sir Geoffrey Sanders will not now take place.”
“Good,” Philip said. “That takes care of that.” They exchanged another intimate smile.
“I think I’ve heard enough,” Lady Royston said. She stood up magnificently in one graceful movement, and looked down at her daughter. But she had to look up to Philip. “You, Lucy, may wallow in your own pig-sty. But don’t expect me to join you there.”
Without another word, she left the room.
Lucy immediately stood up and went to Philip. He held her quietly for a moment, until she looked up and then he kissed her gently. “Come on,” he said, “You need some air. I’ve come to take you to the park, I have my curricle outside.”
“I should like that,” she said.
“Edward’s come as well. Guess who he’s going to ask to go with him.”
“Christina,” she said, without hesitation.
“She told you?”
“No, she didn’t have to. I saw it in both of them. Perhaps when you’re in love yourself, you notice it in others.”
He laughed. “Perhaps. He came here with me at first because he was stunned by Frances, as most people are. But she hadn’t enough wit for him – a beautiful pea-goose. - and Christina’s good sense and pleasant nature eventually won through.”
“She feels very strongly for him,” she said. “Do you think there’ll be an announcement?”
“I don’t know, but it’s going along very nicely.”
Then,” she said, “I should like to ask her to stay in Grosvenor Square. With one of her sisters, so I can attend more to you than to chaperon duties.”
“That,” he said warmly, “Would be most acceptable. But not immediately.” He kissed her again, but then released her, firmly putting her from him. “Go and get your pelisse and hat. I’ll wait for you in the hall.”
Lucy found a becoming green pelisse, and a shallow brimmed hat decorated with green striped ribbon and dyed feathers. She remembered wearing the outfit once before, on another drive in the park, but she determinedly shrugged the thought aside. She had to admit Curtis had made a difference already. The bedroom was perfectly arranged, her delicate porcelain watchstand back where it should be on the night stand and the usual array of bottles and jars reposed on the dressing table. She really should sort through them some time, she thought guiltily, thinking of the expensive jars she had bought and only used once.
She met Christina on the stairs, and wreathed in smiles, they made their way downstairs to where their beaux waited.
Philip’s carriage lacked its tiger. One of the Carmichael’s footmen stood on the pavement at the heads of the pair of Moore horses, champing at the bit and prancing a little in their impatience to be off. Philip climbed up and took the reins, holding them in one gloved hand in the approved way, looped up. He wasn’t a member of the Four-Horse Club, but he was quite a whip in his understated way. Lucy felt quite safe with him, even in the lightly built, two wheeled curricle.
Lord Wenlock, on the other hand, prided himself on his horsemanship, and this morning, had turned out in all the glory of the club. Blue and yellow striped waistcoat, greatcoat with an enormous number of capes and buttons the size of half crowns all marked him as a notable whip. He only drove a pair today, not wanting to detract himself from the company of the lady, but his tiger, experienced though he was, found it difficult to hold the spirited chestnuts steady.
Lord Wenlock’s air when he took the reins made controlling such a fresh pair look easy. He must have wrists of steel, Lucy reflected. Christina allowed herself to be helped up to the curricle, but looked a little nervous. The tiger swung himself up to the little seat behind. “You should try his high perch phaeton.” Philip called to her.
Lord Wenlock exchanged a few words with Christina, who shook her head determinedly.
Several people had turned out from other houses in the Square to see such bang-up equipages, and several windows had faces at them. Lucy saw Christina smile and wave at one or two, and guessed that this was part of her triumph. She was flushed, her brown eyes shone with happiness, and she looked pretty. Lucy could find no fault with the arrangement.
Since they were at the far end of Oxford Street, the park took a little longer to reach than usual. This gave Lucy and Philip the opportunity to exchange a few fond words, and for Philip to ascertain that his love was recovered from her most recent ordeal, and truly ready to take her place at his side. “You are a resilient woman,” he commented.
“I’m well trained at appearing that way,” she told him. “But it isn’t always so. I’m having bad dreams, so vivid it’s as though it’s happening all over again. I want them to stop.”
“I can help,” he said. “And I can be there when you wake.”
“I know,” she replied. It was one of the reasons she longed for Saturday. But only one.
Lucy had forgotten how much she enjoyed circling the Park, nodding at her friends, exchanging the occasional word. Many expressed frank surprise at seeing her back in town, and with Philip, not least Mrs. Drummond-Burrell, who was able to recognise Lucy this time. The lady was ensconced in an open barouche upholstered in a delicate shade of lilac.
Lord Royston obligingly stopped his curricle so she could address them. “I saw the notice before I came out today,” she informed Lucy. “I cannot be surprised; I didn’t think he was the man for you. I’m only sorry it went as far as it did.”
“So am I ma’am,” Lucy replied. She didn’t like to mention that it was none of the lady’s business because Mrs. Drummond-Burrell considered everything was her business. If Lucy was rude to her, she was capable of spreading the worst gossip about her. “But I have done my best to rectify the error.”
“What if I called you a jilt?” asked the lady. She watched Lucy through half closed eyes, waiting for her response.
Lucy knew this was a test, and she reacted accordingly. “I tried to break the engagement as soon as I discovered my error, and I was prevented from doing so.”
This made Mrs. Drummond-Burrell’s eyes open in delighted speculation. “I collect you are not at present living at your mother’s house?”
“No, ma’am,” Lucy replied steadily. “I’m staying with some cousins of Lord Royston’s. They are in business and they live in Red Lion Square.” The bad news first, she calculated.
Mrs. Drummond-Burrell’s eyebrows went up. “Quite a distance from the fashionable world.”
“Indeed, ma’am but a very respectable address. They are very kind to me.” She leant forward a little and lowered her voice. The gesture was practically redundant; no-one but Philip could hear them, and he was busying himself attending to his frisky horses. “They are also astonishingly rich. The lady in the carriage in front of us - Lord Wenlock’ vehicle - is Miss Carmichael. They own a great deal of property in the North.” That the property was in the form of manufactories she must somehow have forgotten to mention. She leant back.
Mrs. Drummond-Burrell thought, the handle of her unopened parasol to her lips. “Should I enjoy making their acquaintance?” she asked.
“I think so, ma’am,” Lucy replied. “But I have to leave them on Saturday. I hope to introduce the girls to some friends of mine.”
The older
lady wasn’t looking at Lucy any more, but her gaze followed the progress of Lord Wenlock’ carriage around the Park. Slowly, she looked back to Lucy. “Don’t take too much on yourself,” she said in a warning tone.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am,” she replied. “I look to you for guidance.”
They smiled, bowed and moved on. “A job well done,” said Philip, his voice full of laughter but his face grave.
“I thought so,” said his beloved serenely. “Now they’ll want to know why I’m not at Mother’s. That mystery will be resolved on Saturday. And they’ll be agog to meet the new heiresses.”
This was too much for him and he let out a crack of laughter. “Oh my sweet, you’ll end up a patroness of Almack’s.”
“I sincerely hope not,” she replied.
Chapter Twenty-Six
On the day before her wedding, Lucy had the confrontation she didn’t wish for but knew she should face. She asked Janet if she could talk to her privately. Mrs. Carmichael knew what it was about; she had been decidedly cool to her daughter since the previous Tuesday, but she didn’t prevent Lucy and Janet going up to the room Janet shared with Christina. Lucy knew Mrs. Carmichael would keep Christina away. She watched Lucy and Janet leave the dining room, and would know the subject under discussion.
Christina and Janet shared a room on the same floor as Lucy’s, but larger. Lucy briefly wondered how they managed to share a dressing table, then castigated herself for her foolishness. Both girls dressed simply, and would probably do each other’s hair in the morning. She felt vaguely guilty that she had two maids when they only had the use of one on special occasions.
Loving Lucy Page 25