A Country Mouse

by Fenella Miller

  Madame ushered her clients to the one uncluttered sofa. 'If you will please to sit 'ere, I will 'ave my girls show you the gowns that are complete.' Emily and Lady Althea sat where directed. There was no sign of either Millie or Serena.

  'Where are my girls, Madame? Surely they have not become bored so quickly?'

  'Oh no, my lady. They are in the chamber with their nurse, trying on the new clothes with great enthusiasm. Are you ready? I will call my assistants to begin.'

  'Can I really select as many outfits as I wish, Mama? Does grandfather have bottomless pockets?'

  Lady Althea patted her daughter's hand. 'He is one of the warmest men in England, my love, so do not stint yourself. I promise you that I have no intention of doing so. I never thought to have a closet bursting with lovely gowns ever again. I believed that I had forgone such luxuries when I married your dear Papa.'

  Emily tensed, waiting for the torrent of tears that always followed such a mention but it didn't come. She smiled.

  'I'm certain that he would want you to look beautiful again. Indeed, you're looking better already. I'm sure that in a few weeks you will be feeling fully restored and well enough to travel to London with me.'

  'I shall, my love, I shall.' Lady Althea stared intensely at her eldest daughter. 'You are also far too thin, my love. We must both endeavour to eat more. Slender is attractive but stick thin, I am afraid, is not.'

  Emily giggled. 'If I continue to eat as I did this morning I will be the size of a horse in no time' Madame coughed politely, drawing their attention to the entrance of the first of the two mannequins. After two hours even the delight of selecting new gowns was beginning to pall for all the company. They decided to postpone the measuring and fitting for the afternoon.

  Lady Althea returned to her rooms promising she would eat before resting. Emily and her sisters found their way back downstairs to the small dining parlour where, they had been informed, a cold collation had been set up for them.

  'I have four new dresses, with matching slippers, and bonnets and ribbons as well.' Serena told Emily proudly.

  'And I have the same. How many did you select Em?' Millie asked.

  'I am now the proud possessor of two morning gowns, two tea dresses, one walking dress with matching pelisse, and one evening gown. I have, naturally, a full complement of slippers, bonnets, reticules and shawls to accompany them. I shall be so smart you will not know me.'

  'Mary says we are having lots of other garments made especially. I do not see when we will have time to wear them all. And I expect I will have grown out of them before they are even half worn out.'

  'You have to change your outfit every hour, Serena; it is what happens in the ton, is it not, Em?'

  Serena looked suitably horrified.

  Do not tease your sister, Millie. No, Serena, you do not have to change so often. However, I believe that it is not done to wear the same dress twice in public, but that only applies to adults I am sure.'

  The girls stared, open-mouthed. Millie was the first to recover. 'But that can not be right. It would mean having hundreds of dresses; no one would have so many. It would be too wasteful.'

  'Three hundred and sixty five dresses, if you went out every day.' Serena said with awe. 'No wonder we have such enormous closets in our chambers.'

  Emily shook her head laughing openly at her sisters. 'Don't take me so literally, girls. By 'out in public' I meant to a party, ball, or soiree, not walking or driving in the park.'

  By the end of the day the Gibson family was exhausted, but they were all well satisfied by the day's events. Madame Ducray was even more so, for she returned to London with an order of such magnitude she would be obliged to take on more seamstresses if it was to be completed on time. It had been arranged that she would deliver the finished items to Westerham within four weeks, in order that any alterations could be made before the party departed for London.

  * * * *

  The Earl of Westerham's townhouse was naturally, in the best part of town, away from the noise and pollution of the teeming city streets, but not so far from the park that Sebastian could not exercise his horse, or drive his high-perch phaeton.

  He took himself to Whites to tell his acquaintances of his betrothal. It was imperative that the news of the engagement was spread before other gossip arrived in town. Someone was bound to hear about the riding debacle; such an exciting titbit of scandal would be greedily absorbed and hurried on its way.

  By the end of the day Sebastian's face was stiff from smiling and his back sore from the congratulatory slapping. No one questioned his choice or his timing; he was the sole heir to a great name and it was his duty to produce sufficient sons to secure the title. What better way than choosing to marry his second cousin?

  Too dispirited to join in any card games or attend one of the soirees or musicals to which he had been invited, he returned home. He had done his duty, their reputations were safe. No wedding date had been set, but knowing the earl, it would be sooner rather than later. He scowled as he contemplated his future tied to a young woman with no sense of decorum and a figure like a boy's. She did have lovely eyes and a fine head of hair, but setting up his nursery with such a female did not fill him with enthusiasm.

  The next morning he reported to his office at Home Guards and discovered he was required to leave immediately for Belgium. Napoleon had escaped from Elba and was already in Paris, gathering loyal troops as fast as a dog found fleas. Wellington required his immediate services. He caught the next packet to Calais and was safely established on the Duke's staff within less than a week. All thoughts of Emily and their engagement were forgotten in the excitement of preparing for the inevitable battle with the French.

  * * * *

  Meanwhile, at Westerham, Lady Althea slowly recovered both her looks and her spirits, even her straggly hair regained its lustre with the judicious use of henna. Emily rode out every day, sometimes with her sisters, sometimes accompanied only by a groom. She got to know her grandfather and finally forgave him for his neglect.

  The ring, which had once been her grandmother's, remained unworn on her dresser. When the day came for their departure to London she had all but forgotten that she was engaged. Apart from

  the arrival of this token, with a brief note, they had received no communication from Viscount Yardley, which bothered her not one jot.

  Chapter Eight

  The Earl of Westerham asked Emily to visit him privately on the morning scheduled for their departure.

  'Sit down, my dear; I am going to miss your company whilst you are in Town. Do not stop away too long.'

  'We intend to return for the Yuletide festivities so it will be but five weeks we are absent.'

  'Excellent; I have something special planned for you all. I am intending to hold a New Year's masquerade; Serena and Amelia will love it.'

  'Will it not be too dark and dangerous for people to travel to Westerham, grandfather?'

  He chuckled at her ignorance. 'Good heavens, my dear, my guests will already be here. I have invited fifty people to stay. The ball will be to celebrate your forthcoming nuptials.' Emily shivered. 'I have noticed Emily, that you do not wear your betrothal ring. Is it a poor fit?'

  She blushed. 'No, grandfather. It is remiss of me but I do not, as a rule, where any jewellery. I am always afraid I will lose it. But I promise I shall put it on immediately.'

  'Good girl; people will think it odd of you if you do not display it proudly. I believe Yardley will be returning soon; it is high time you spent some time together.'

  'I am looking forward to it,' she lied. She stood up and came across to kiss her benefactor farewell. 'I am going to miss you, Grandfather. You must take care of yourself whilst we are gone.'

  He patted her cheek affectionately. 'I will, minx. And you enjoy yourself; attend as many parties and gatherings as you can, make some new friends. I have given Althea some extra cards so if there are any you wish to add to the house party, you will be free to do so.'
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  'Thank you; I must go, the carriage is waiting. I must not keep the horses standing, it is cold this morning.'

  * * * *

  The Gibson family made good time and arrived at Lessing House by mid-afternoon. There was still sufficient daylight for the girls to exclaim in delight at the place in which they were to reside for the next five weeks. Millie stood on the freshly washed pavement and stared up.

  'There are four floors. It takes up quite half the block.' She gazed around the select square on which the house was situated. 'It is almost twice the size of all the other dwellings.'

  'It is, my love. And it is as luxuriously appointed as Westerham. We will want for nothing, I promise you.'

  'May I play in a little garden in the centre, Mama? It has a lawn and flowerbeds and there are statues of ladies in it,' Serena asked.

  'I am sure Mary will take you when the weather is fine, if Miss Quenby gives you leave.'

  The governess, a sprightly, middle-aged lady of superior knowledge and impeccable references, nodded and smiled. 'Your mornings will still be spent on your books, Miss Serena, but I think the afternoons can be given over to visits and excursions. After all this is your first time in our capital city. I am sure Lady Althea wishes you to see as much of it is possible.'

  'Indeed I do, Miss Quenby. Miss Gibson and I will be out a deal of the time so I am trusting you to plan a suitable itinerary for my youngest daughters.'

  'Miss Quenby has promised she will take us to the Tower and the Vauxhall Gardens. I am so pleased to be here, Mama, I think I might burst.'

  'I do hope not, Miss Serena, it would make such a mess on this clean pavement.' Miss Quenby replied smiling.

  The London butler, Digby, from his vantage point at the head of the steps, viewed the laughing group with disfavour.

  Emily noticed the front door was open and bright candlelight spilling out. 'Come along, everyone, I think we should go in.' She noticed the look on the butler's face and realized they had been making a spectacle of themselves, gawping like villagers at a fair.

  Digby showed them in and introduced the rest of the staff to Lady Althea. Then they were conducted to their apartments at the far side of the spacious building. In every room welcoming fires burnt merrily and candelabrum glowed with expensive beeswax candles. The youngest girls had been put, with Miss Quenby and Mary, on the attic floor in the nursery wing. They were not impressed.

  'Why do we have to be up here? It's cold and dark. Grandfather does not make us sleep in the nurseries.' Serena said crossly.

  'Indeed he does not, my loves. Nor shall you this visit.' Lady Althea turned to the housekeeper. 'Miss Amelia and Miss Serena will have rooms next to Miss Gibson. And you will find a more comfortable chamber for Miss Quenby.'

  'Yes, my lady. I'm sorry, my lady, but Mr Digby believes that children belong in the nursery, not on the second floor.'

  Lady Althea smiled. 'I quite understand. Mary you can remain up here, Jenny and Edwards can join you. When you have fires burning it will be quite cosy.'

  The girls' belongings were packed and transported back downstairs. It was full dark by the time the party was settled to everyone's satisfaction. After a light supper, served in a pretty withdrawing-room on the first floor, the girls were so tired they went to bed without demure, leaving Emily and her mother alone.

  'I think I am going to retire also, my dear, I am fatigued after the journey.' Emily rang the bell and a parlour maid appeared to escort her mother to her rooms.

  'I am going to explore for a while. I want to discover the whereabouts of the library and the study. Miss Quenby wishes to use one of them for her lessons.' Emily waited for the young maid to return to guide her downstairs. 'Are the rooms on the ground floor not open, Beth?' She asked the girl on the way down the richly carpeted stairs.

  'They are, Miss Gibson; but they're for Viscount Yardley's use.' The girl grinned. 'You're coming has fair put old Digby out of sorts, I can tell you, miss. He cannot abide either women or children. I am up from Westerham, same as you; all female staff are, including Mrs Lawford. She is under housekeeper back there.' The girl halted in front of a stout door. 'This is the library, Miss Gibson. Shall I show you the study too?'

  'Yes, please do. Why are there are no flowers anywhere?'

  Beth giggled. 'Old sour face can't abide flowers neither. Shall I send out for some tomorrow, Miss Gibson?'

  'Yes, Lady Althea likes the house to be filled with blooms. Will someone go to Covent Garden for them?'

  'That they will, Miss Gibson. If Mrs Lawford allows, I'll go myself, and take a couple of boot boys along with me to carry them.'

  Emily decided that the study, although presently unlit and chilly, would be more than adequate for her sister's to take their lessons.

  'I can find my way back to my rooms, thank you, Beth, so you can go. I intend to sit in the library for a while and read. I noticed it has a decent fire burning.'

  'Very well, Miss Gibson. If you're sure. Goodnight, miss.'

  Beth vanished through a door in the panelling, leaving Emily alone outside the library. Feeling a little like an intruder she pushed open the door and went in. The rows of leather bound books were mostly dull and of no interest but she found a volume on the history of London and took that back to a comfortable, deep-seated, leather chair, positioned close to the fire.

  She tucked her feet under her, smoothing out the delicate folds of the skirt of her green spotted muslin. She was glad this gown had long sleeves and that she had thought to place a cashmere shawl around her shoulders. The candles she had positioned on the mantelshelf and small side tables bathed her in a golden glow. The combination of warmth and exhaustion caused her head to droop and she fell asleep.

  She did not hear the sound of the carriage outside or the bustle as another visitor arrived. She slept through. The candles burned down lower and the fire went out. The cold finally woke her. The feeble glow of the two remaining candle stubs revealed little. Then she felt the heavy weight in her lap and remembered where she was.

  She uncurled her legs with difficulty and stumbled to her feet. Her dress was creased and her hair, as usual, was falling down around her face. Crossly she pulled out the remaining pins and shook her head, sending the waist length curls cascading down her back in a russet waterfall.

  The large clock, ticking loudly in it's wooden case, told her it was past midnight. Everyone would be asleep. She frowned; why had Jenny not sought her out? Had the girls not missed their usual goodnight embrace?

  One of the candles guttered and went out. Quickly Emily snatched up the remaining one; she had to find a room with fresh candles before she was left in the pitch black to grope her way back to her rooms.

  The feeble glimmer showed her the door and she opened it quietly, not wishing to wake the household. She stood, holding her candle aloft, staring down the long dark passageway. Then to her delight she saw a crack of yellow escaping from a door further down. It was in the opposite direction to the one she knew she must take but, if there was someone in the room, they could provide her with directions and the necessary illumination.

  She did not stop to consider exactly who that someone might be. It was only as she tentatively pushed the door open that it occurred to her the room could be occupied by an intruder. In her terror she dropped the candle and plunged herself into total darkness. She had to flee, but disorientated by the lack of light, she had no idea in which direction to go. Too late she heard the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps and the door crashed open.

  Emily tried to press herself against the wall and she prayed for deliverance, what she got was a lethal blow to her right temple and she collapsed, without a sound, at her attacker's feet.

  * * * *

  'God's teeth!' Sebastian swore and dropped to his knees in horror. He had known the minute his clenched fist landed that he had made a terrible mistake. It was only now that he appreciated just how bad. He had thought he had felled a house-maid on an illicit night time jau
nt, but this was so much worse.

  In the light from his sitting-room he gently scooped his unconscious fiancé up and her unbound hair spilled over his arms in warm thick ripples. Its soft touch made his stomach clench and his pulse accelerate.

  Carefully he laid Emily on the nearest sofa. He dropped again to his knees and pushed back the hair from her face. He swore again, more viciously. The vivid purple bruise already appearing on her temple was ample evidence of his brute force. He looked around for something to press on the swelling. There were only the dregs of his claret decanter. It would have to do. He tipped the thick ruby liquid onto the neck-cloth he had removed earlier.

  The red stains left by the damp cloth matched the spreading bruise. Should he call for assistance? How was he to explain the presence of his fiancé, with hair unbound, unconscious in his private quarters? Whatever explanation was offered it would be disbelieved. The evidence spoke for itself. It had been an assignation in which they had violently disagreed and, in his fury, he had struck her down.

  A faint sound alerted him. She was coming to her senses. He saw her eyelids flicker and open. He stared into her extraordinary hazel eyes and his chest constricted. How could he ever have thought her plain? She was the most beautiful and desirable woman he had ever seen.

  * * * *

  Slowly, Emily returned to full consciousness. Her head hurt and her vision was blurred. Then she remembered the door opening and the violent blow to her head. She stiffened and fear flooded back. She was trapped, helpless, with the monster who had tried to kill her. She felt herself falling back into a black pit. From a distance she heard a familiar voice.

  'Emily, it is I, Sebastian. You are safe; I will not hurt you again. It was an accident. I thought you were an intruder.'

  She lay still, assimilating his words, trying to make sense from them. It was Sebastian who had treated her so cruelly? But he was in Belgium, how could he be here in London? She felt a soothing coolness on her throbbing temple and, although she did not fully understand what she heard, she knew they were words of comfort. She sighed, relaxed and slipped into a deep restorative slumber.