Loving Lucy

by Lynne Connolly

  “Lucy, my love.” He came over to the bed, and she saw he was wearing his robe again, but his bare legs showed underneath. He leant over to smooth a curl back from her face in a tender caress. “Come and have something to eat.”

  “Hmm?” she sat up, and saw a table, unfolded in the middle of the room, with dishes and plates on it. She flushed, thinking someone had come in and he laughed. “I ordered some supper for us. They left it outside, I brought it in here.”

  She smiled at him in gratitude. “I’m still a bit - “

  “I know. Come and eat.”

  He brought her robe over to her and put it over her shoulders, but his hand strayed a little when he helped her put it on. She laughed and enjoyed his caress, leaning up for his kiss. The thought that they had all night, and all the days after that, gave her a feeling of languorous bliss. They had no need to hurry now.

  She buttoned her dressing gown at the front and sat down at one of the two chairs placed at the table. The servants had provided an elegant supper, and chilled white wine to go with it. He saw her seated before he went to his own chair.

  Lucy helped herself from the array of hot and cold dishes, finding her appetite had improved from earlier in the day. When he had poured the wine and helped himself, Philip held up his glass in a toast. “To married life. May we never have a cross word.”

  She laughed, but obediently touched her glass to his and drank. The wine was dry and cold, finding its way deliciously down her throat. “We had enough cross words when we were children.” she ventured.

  “But you always won, my darling.”

  “You let me, I’m convinced of it.”

  “Maybe,” he said, looking at her. “But I won in the end.” He seemed relaxed and happy too, leaning back in his chair, lifting his glass to his lips. He drank deeply and poured himself another glassful. “I loved you when I first met you, when I was twelve years old and you were eight.”

  That reminded her of something he wasn’t aware of. She had no compunction in sharing it with him; after all, it concerned him as much. He wouldn’t be earl if her mother had done her duty. “Do you know why my father was so convinced he wouldn’t have any more children?”

  “No. We were just told that Bernard would inherit, that there was little chance of an heir from anywhere else.” He speared part of a baked egg with his fork and ate while she told him.

  “I always thought it was because my mother was damaged in some way when I was born. But it wasn’t so. When she was trying to persuade me to marry Geoffrey, she told me I wouldn’t have to put up with his - attentions much, that all I had to do was fill the nursery. She said she couldn’t bear it, and she wouldn’t let my father into her bedroom after I was conceived.”

  He stopped eating, put his fork down, and frowned at her, a look of faint puzzlement creasing his forehead. “You mean she refused him the chance of an heir? That she was capable, but refused to allow it?” He sounded as incredulous as she had been when she had first been told.

  “Yes. She said she disliked it.”

  “Dear God.” He picked up his glass again. “I know she’s your mother, but - “

  “Say what you like, I don’t care what you say about her now.” Her voice shook a little, but she wouldn’t let the tears come. Her mother wasn’t worth it. With a slight effort, she swallowed them back. “She is the most selfish woman in the world, I’m convinced of it.”

  “I don’t suppose for a minute your father ever used her as Sanders used you, so I must conclude she took a pet and that was the end of it.” He sighed, put down his glass and picked up his knife and fork once more. “Your poor father.”

  “I don’t think he stayed celibate,” she said dryly. “She did.” She began to eat again, too. Then she looked at him and smiled. “I won’t.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  They ate for a while in companionable silence, and then Lucy said, “Philip, if you don’t object, there are one or two things I’d like to do. I want to deal with my mother, and I have a scheme about Sir Geoffrey, but I’ll need your help.”

  “Fire away,” he said, reaching for the second bottle.

  He listened to Lucy’s plans with growing appreciation. He added a few refinements, but generally they were in agreement on them. He particularly approved of her ideas for Sir Geoffrey’s downfall. “He needs to be taken out of the marriage market once and for all, and this, my love, should do it.” He got up and came around to Lucy’s side of the table. “But not today,” he said. His expression changed subtly, and Lucy got to her feet and went into his arms. His hand moved up to push away the neck of her robe so he could kiss her skin. She shivered at his touch and moved closer to him. “No,” she said. “Not today.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sir Geoffrey lifted his right arm and the crop swished through the air, down on to her. She could hear the noise, but was long past feeling anything. Oh, she thought, if only I could die now, if only he would go.

  Her wish seemed to have been answered, because the next blow didn’t come. Instead, she heard something else. Very quiet sounds, sounds she couldn’t identify, and then she went cold. He was taking off his clothes – or at least the ones that would impede his purpose. Then she heard his voice. “Now my dear - to the next part of your lesson.”

  “No.” she screamed and sat bolt upright, sweat bathing her body, tears pouring from her eyes. “No, no, no.”

  “Lucy.” she felt strong arms about her and shrugged them off, seized the bedcovers and threw them back to get out of bed before she remembered where she was. “Philip.”

  She let him hold her then, and fold the covers softly about them both. Held her while she shook and regained control, felt his loving warmth. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  “Don’t be foolish.” he said roughly, and then; “Does this happen often?”

  “Yes.” She leaned back in his arms. She couldn’t see much. It was night, the candles long since guttered out. “Not every night, but sometimes.”

  “That settles it,” he said. “I won’t leave you alone at night. You can’t go through that on your own.”

  “Yes I can,” she said. “But I would prefer not to.”

  Gently he drew her down, his only desire to comfort her and soothe her into rest. She trembled for a little while, but gradually she relaxed into sleep. She felt safe here, safer than anywhere else, and perhaps, in time, that would help the dreams to go away. Philip watched her until he was sure she was asleep. He deeply desired to call the man out, to finish it cleanly, but that would bring dirty linen to the public eye, and more than his desire for revenge was his wish to cherish his wife. They would do it her way.

  ***

  The following day, a few days after her wedding, Lucy went to see Mrs. Carmichael. The hugs and welcome she received were more, she thought, than she deserved, but she would help to alleviate that. She outlined her plan over tea and cakes. “The girls have nothing to be ashamed of, and their portions are more than handsome,” she concluded, “so you might allow me to introduce them into society, won’t you?”

  “I hardly think society will take to them.” replied Mrs. Carmichael. She looked at Lucy doubtfully, then smiled. “You look as fine as fivepence, my dear.”

  “Thank you,” said Lucy, the mischievous twinkle in her eyes belying her demure attitude. “I’ve always been fond of fashionable clothes.”

  “Then what an effort it must have been for you to hide yourself away for a month.”

  Lucy knew when she was being teased. “There are, however, more important things,” she murmured. She took a sip of her tea. “I can take them to some of the larger balls, they can come to dinner with us – they are our relatives, after all. Then we’ll see what happens.”

  “I don’t want them to be hurt,” protested her erstwhile hostess. “Society can be very cruel.”

  “And very avaricious,” Lucy said. “There is nothing that is vulgar about your children, not like – other people, “
she finished lamely, thinking of the lamentable, but fun, Pulteneys. “And they are wealthy enough to attract the attention of several people.”

  “Fortune hunters.” said Mrs. Carmichael with a snort.

  “Not all of them,” Lucy said mildly. “Some may estates to repair, it’s true, but I can put you in the way of that, tell you who to avoid. I just want to pay a little hospitality back, for all the kindness you showed me. I’ll never be able to pay it all back. You saved me from a terrible mistake, sheltered me and trusted me. I can’t tell you how happy I am now. It’s not a debt that can be repaid.”

  Mrs. Carmichael coloured up. “Only civilised,” she said, gruffly.

  Lucy was sorry to see her embarrassed. “Well, I promise, if you let me take them about a little, they’ll come to no harm. Will you? Would you like to accompany them? Is it something you would enjoy?”

  The older lady shook her head decisively. “Perhaps once I might have done,” she admitted. “But not now. I have everything I want here.”

  But she allowed herself to be persuaded, and Lucy had her permission to launch the three eldest Misses Carmichael on to an unsuspecting ton.

  ***

  Lucy launched herself on her plan of action.

  She began almost immediately. She let it be known that her City cousins were wealthy, and had expectations which might be welcome in certain quarters. She did it subtly. One afternoon, she held an ‘at home.’ Christina and Frances were with her, and were introduced as ‘my cousins.’ There was never any question of subterfuge. If anyone asked Lucy about them, she told them. Everyone knew the Roystons had relatives in the City. It was a relief that they were presentable.

  And they were. It was generally agreed that the two older girls were delightful, and what the younger one lacked in good looks she gained by her personality. Underlying all this were two assumptions. The girls would never be allowed into the inner circle, the holy of holies that included vouchers for Almack’s, not until and unless their rank matched their purported fortune. The other assumption concerned that fortune. Lucy had gently fostered stories about the dowries, without actually lying, until they were thought to have dowries as great as anyone’s, perhaps as great as Lucy’s. The Roystons were a fortunate family, it was said, to produce so many heiresses. And such a beauty in Miss Frances.

  ***

  Another ball, another girl’s come-out.

  This was a Cavendish, one of the relatives of the Duke of Devonshire. The gathering was a large one, and the Carmichaels had received cards, as well as the Roystons.

  Lucy watched the results of her campaign with smug satisfaction as she stood by the dance floor holding a glass of wine. Lord Wenlock found her there, watching her husband taking Frances through the rounds of a country-dance.

  Lucy looked up at him a little shyly, wondering how to broach the subject. “I wondered if there was any way we could help you.”

  “In what way?” He looked puzzled.

  She took a sip of the ice-cold wine. “Perhaps if you wanted to meet Christina alone sometime, to talk things over, that sort of thing, I might be able to make it possible for you.”

  He didn’t misunderstand her. “That’s very kind of you,” he replied, with a sweet smile. “And I promise I’ll bear it in mind, but I think we’re going on very well. How did you guess it was Christina?” He paused and laughed at himself. “Of course you knew. I tried to be discreet, to show Frances it wasn’t her but my own inclinations which drew me to her sister. I don’t think she minds.”

  Lucy looked at Frances and smiled. Now the dance was over, the lovely Frances was surrounded by young gentlemen, all trying to flirt with her. “I don’t think she minds.”

  “I’m going to ask for an interview with her father next week,” said Edward Wenlock.

  “Oh I’m so pleased for you.” she replied. “I hope it goes well. Will you want to carry her off soon?”

  He smiled. “If she’ll have me. She finds all this – socialising a bit of a strain, you know. I only come up to town because my friends are here, I much prefer the country, so we’re matched very well in that respect.”

  “You know – the dowry?”

  “I believe she has about ten thousand. It’s enough to reconcile my mother to her. Indeed,” he added, turning from contemplation of his beloved, now dancing with a young buck Lucy remembered from her own court, “I think my mother will love her. She has always condemned the debutantes as shockingly frivolous and empty headed. Christina has excellent sense, and is just the kind of bride my mother always wished me to find.”

  Lucy was delighted that Lord Wenlock hadn’t heard of Christina’s ‘enhanced’ dowry. It showed he loved her for her dear self alone, as she knew he didn’t need the money. However, she did say, “We – Philip and I – have a particular reason that people believe their dowries are enhanced. At least, to create some confusion about them. Can you help us?”

  He looked at her with some calculation, but agreed. “It won’t harm the Carmichaels, will it?”

  “No, I promise,” she said. “It should be easy to correct any misapprehensions later. I can tell you something if you want to know, but not here.”

  He looked at her, eyes narrowed in calculation. “Thank you for the offer. However, I think the less I know the better.”

  Philip came across the room to take her into supper, and Lucy went with him willingly. There was an elegant supper laid out in one of the side-rooms, and a footman helped her to her choice.

  “Lord Wenlock is going to ask for Christina’s hand soon,” she told him.

  “Is he? I’m glad, she’s just the girl for him.” Philip said promptly.

  “Will his family object to the trade connection?”

  “No,” replied Philip firmly. “Especially once they discover exactly how much trade.” They exchanged a look and a smile of perfect understanding.

  Sir Geoffrey seemed particularly taken by Frances, which surprised several people that evening. He had always been a stickler for birth and breeding, but the fact that the family was trade seemed to pass him by. Several people assumed he knew more than they did, and asked other people who might be expected to know, if Sir Geoffrey was flirting, or could he have a serious purpose in his favour of the new beauty. The replies they received made the ones with unattached sons determined to throw them in the way of the Carmichaels, even the less well favoured Janet. Many declared they preferred the younger Millicent, her beauty paler and less obvious than Frances’. By the end of the evening they had received several flattering invitations, and assurances that they would be welcome at the next ‘at home’ they could attend.

  Christina was a little puzzled by this, and asked Lucy why these people were being so kind. She could only explain, “You’re new meat, acceptably born for all but the most stuffy, and rich enough to satisfy them. And Frances is a beauty. Society likes a beauty to rave about, and there hasn’t been one of Frances’ calibre for years.”

  Christina looked at her doubtfully but accepted her explanation. “Why does your mother not come?” Lucy asked. “I asked her if she would and she refused.”

  “She said she was too old for such things and it gave her some time to herself.”

  Lucy could understand that. In that crowded house it must be difficult to get any privacy. “Are you enjoying yourself? I know the others are, but you and Janet?”

  “You’ve been very kind to Janet, considering how she betrayed you,” said Christina. Loyalty was very important to her, and Lucy guessed she hadn’t yet forgiven her sister.

  “I have what I want,” she said. “And it did me good – forced me to face my mother.”

  “She nearly got you back to Sir Geoffrey,” Christina said with a grimace. “I thought of pulling Frances away from him, but we’re only just here, thanks to you, and I didn’t want to create a scene.”

  “He’s perfectly safe unless you let yourself get too close,” Lucy told her. “And he will add some consequence to you. He’s ve
ry well thought of in some circles.”

  Christina looked surprised. “You don’t mind? It seems he’s got away with what he did to you scot-free.”

  Lucy shrugged. “There are other ways to skin a cat. Wait and see. Do you think Janet still feels the same way about him? She seemed completely dazzled to me.”

  “She is,” Christina said grimly. “It’s not something I like to see, but she won’t be persuaded otherwise.”

  “You may tell her what he did to me, if you like.” It took something for Lucy to say that. The whole experience was something she dearly wanted to forget, but she still had the dreams. Sometimes Philip would soothe her, make love to her, and sometimes just hold her, but she longed for the dreams to leave her.

  “Thank you. That might help.” She touched Lucy’s arm when she felt her quiver with the reminder, and Lucy smiled at her. “It will pass,” she said quietly.

  They were so late to bed that night Lucy fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

  ***

  When she awoke, Philip was asleep with his back to her. She smiled, but didn’t touch him. Waking up with him was a delight, one she knew she had done little to deserve, but she was more glad of it every day. She was only beginning to understand the love he felt for her, and how precious it was. Watching his body rise and fall rhythmically with his breathing, Lucy promised herself she would always do her best to deserve it. She felt unaccustomedly humble.

  It seemed strange to be back here as mistress but she could think of few better ways of paying her mother back for what she had done. Lucy had never thought of revenge before, but she knew it was more than that. For her it would be exorcising that dread she felt, and recovering some of what was hers by right.

  She determined not to think about it and moved closer to Philip, putting her arm about his waist and snuggling up to his back. He put his hand over hers, and then, eyes still closed, turned over to take her in his arms. When he kissed the top of her head she knew he was waking up. She looked up and smiled. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning, my love. Sleep well?”