by Karen Abbott
‘Lord Templeton has returned home,’ she whispered urgently, her voice filled with suppressed excitement. ‘They are in his study!’
She hesitated, anxiously eyeing her mistress’s face. ‘I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Lady Templeton sounds very upset and Lord Templeton was shouting.’
‘And Mario? What about him?’
‘I couldn’t hear his words – he didn’t raise his voice – but each time he spoke, Lord Templeton shouted back.’
Lucy was hopeful. If Mario could keep himself calm, he might impress her papa with his propriety!
‘Go back and listen again.’
It wasn’t long before Susie scampered back into the room.
‘He’s going!’ she whispered urgently. ‘Quick! Go to the window!’
Lucy was in time to see Mario climb into his curricle and drive past the front of the hall. He flourished his whip and the position of his body did not imply that he was leaving in disgrace. He knew which window was hers and Lucy hoped he might lift his head to give her a sign of encouragement, but he didn’t. She watched until he was out of sight, wondering when she would see him next. She was still seated in the window embrasure staring towards the end of the avenue when the door opened and her mama came into the room.
‘He has gone!’ she announced flatly. ‘He will not trouble us again.’
‘G … Gone?’ Lucy echoed. ‘For how long?’
‘For ever, if he keeps his word. Not that men like him know anything about gentlemanly behaviour.’
‘No! He will come back! He loves me! He will wait until I am older.’ Lucy’s hands were clenched at her sides as she tearfully faced her mama. ‘He will, Mama! He will!’
Lady Templeton shook her head. Her face was no longer stern. Indeed, she seemed more saddened than angry. ‘His love is for money, my dear,’ she said softly. ‘He threatened to create a scandal if we didn’t pay him enough money to buy his silence. He has accepted a thousand pounds to ensure that he never seeks your presence again … and our agreement that we will not speak of this incident to anyone. Oh, my dear!’
She held out her arms to her daughter but Lucy didn’t move into her embrace. She felt her face drain of its blood and a cold hand seemed to clutch at her heart. She felt betrayed, but she wasn’t sure whom she hated more – her parents for ensuring Mario’s departure from her life, or Mario for accepting their bribe.
Two
LUCY SIGHED AS she stared disconsolately out of the window of the family town coach as it sped along the road taking her away from Alverston Hall. She didn’t see the passing scenery: her heart was broken in two. She was destined to live and die as a loveless spinster, tolerated only because of her usefulness to entertain her nieces and nephews.
The heavy sigh caused her maid to look enquiringly at her young mistress, but Lucy made no move to reassure her that everything was all right. It wasn’t all right! It would never be all right again. Her life may as well be over.
Indignation once more flooded through her as she recalled the embarrassing interview with her father, Edmund Lord Templeton. He had been outraged by her dance master’s behaviour and had declared Signor Vitali to be a charlatan of the first order; a pretender, out to bamboozle his way into the unsuspecting households of Polite Society.
‘And you were gulled by his flummery, Lucy,’ he added censoriously. ‘You must learn to distinguish between le bon ton and those whose aim is to worm their way into Society by the back door. I might hold only the title of baron but you know you will have a considerable fortune bestowed upon you on your marriage.’
‘But money doesn’t come into it, Papa! Mario and I love each other!’ Lucy had declared passionately, her hands clasped at her breast, quite certain that her mama’s outrage had caused her to misunderstand what had been said in her papa’s study.
‘Pah! You may imagine yourself to be in love, but Signor Vitali has his feet firmly planted on the ground. He made it very clear what his objective was, and bargained his way into a cool thousand pounds for his withdrawal!’
The repetition of the words hit Lucy as sharply as if her father had slapped her. ‘I don’t believe it!’ she cried in anguish. ‘He said he loved me!’
‘Men like him are unprincipled!’ Lord Templeton said contemptuously. ‘They will smooth-tongue their way into the hearts of innocent young ladies like yourself who foolishly put themselves into jeopardy by flouting the safeguards that their parents and Society have put into place! You should not have sent your maid out of the room with his accompanist!’
‘But the man was choking, Papa. What else was I to do?’
‘You should have rung for Hartley. It was his vigilance that brought your mama so opportunely on to the scene. And what a scene! You were entwined in the man’s arms – a moment later and he would have been kissing you! Have you no shame, Lucy?’
Lucy cast her eyes down. At the moment when Mario had swept her into his arms, she had been surprised but also delighted. He had whispered words of love in her ear on previous occasions and she had dreamed of him kissing her, but her mama’s sudden appearance had prevented even that.
But, in reality, she knew it shouldn’t have happened. She had thought herself in love – and that Mario was in love with her.
Her father’s voice softened. ‘You might find social conventions to be tiresome, Lucy, but they are there for your protection! That is why young ladies of your class in Society are carefully chaperoned and introduced only to suitable young men!’
But Lucy was still hurting and she didn’t want to know who was deemed suitable or unsuitable. What did her papa know about falling in love? It was so unfair. ‘So, I will have no say about whom I will be allowed to meet and marry,’ she had said with deliberate disdain in her voice.
‘Your wishes will, of course, be taken into consideration, but you must be guided by your mama and me. We have your best interest at heart. Next year, you are to have your Season in London and your mama will see that you are introduced to only the best of Society.’
Huh! The best and the boring! No one would match up to Mario!
‘But what if I do not fall in love with any of them?’ she persisted. ‘If I cannot marry for love then I will never marry!’
Lord Templeton hid a faint smile at her passionate declaration.
‘Falling in love is not essential for a happy marriage, Lucy. Liking and respect are often sufficient. In the meantime, your mama and I feel it is expedient for you to visit your sister for a month or so. The fresh country air will be beneficial to you at this time of year and Marissa will, no doubt, be happy for you to provide distractions for young Bertie and Arabella whilst she is in confinement.’
Lucy was dumbfounded. ‘You are sending me away?’
‘Only for a few weeks. It is for your own good.’
‘You are hoping I will forget Mario, but I won’t!’
‘I assure you, he has already forgotten you and, no doubt, has his eye on another gullible miss! My only regret is that we cannot warn our contemporaries about his perfidious dealings. Unfortunately, our silence assures us of his.’
And in the two weeks since the unfortunate incident, Lucy reflected sadly, Mario Vitali had made no effort at all to contact her; not even a secretly passed note via her friend, Eliza Carlton, whom she knew was also a pupil of his.
And now, here she was, lumbering through the late summer countryside to her sister’s home in Norfolk, feeling simply wretched. She had been abandoned by her would-be lover and cast out by her family, and would, no doubt, be an encumbrance to her elder sister, tolerated only for her usefulness during the final weeks of Marissa’s confinement and would forever be the maiden aunt whom everyone despised. A second sigh escaped her lips, dragging Susie’s gaze upon her once more.
‘Don’t be downcast, miss. You’ll fall in love with someone else, someone more suitable.’
‘No, Susie. My heart is broken. I am determined never to fall in love again.’
L
ucy spent a few satisfying moments pondering the tragedy of her broken heart, but found it impossible to hold on to the negative declaration for any longer. With a surge of martyred optimism, she declared grandly, ‘Instead, I will devote my life to helping unfortunate women who find themselves at the mercy of unscrupulous men.’
That momentous decision didn’t entirely take away the heartache she was feeling, but at least it gave her a positive attitude to enable her to withstand any reproaches her sister and brother-in-law might toss her way.
As events turned out, she didn’t even see her brother-in-law, The Honourable Rupert Cunningham, that day. It was late afternoon when the coach turned in at the wrought-iron gates of Glenbury Lodge and Lucy was glad the uncomfortable journey had finally come to an end. Every bone in her body felt as if it had been beaten and her head felt like a leaden ball that was becoming far too heavy for her neck to support.
An under-footman, who had obviously been keeping a lookout for them, ran down the stone steps and was ready to open the carriage door as soon as Thomas brought the carriage to a halt. He let down the step as Lucy rose from her seat.
‘I’ll see you later, Susie,’ she said to her maid. ‘Make sure all my baggage is carried upstairs carefully and order some hot water to be taken to my room for a bath. A nice long soak before dinner will be just the thing!’
She descended from the carriage and looked to where Farrell, her brother-in-law’s butler, was standing at the top of the steps ready to receive her. Lifting the hem of her carriage gown she ascended towards him, her head held high.
‘Good afternoon, Farrell,’ she greeted him cordially as he bowed his bewigged head.
‘Good afternoon, Miss Templeton. Welcome back to Glenbury Lodge.’
Lucy began to draw off her gloves, glancing around the familiar reception hall. She was surprised to see her sister emerge from the drawing room to greet her, instead of waiting for her to be announced. She smiled and moved towards her, but Marissa held out a hand, warding her off.
‘Lucy, dear, don’t come any nearer, I beg of you. It became apparent only yesterday that my darling Bertie has contracted chickenpox and I fear Arabella is sickening for it, too, as she is so hot and irritable. I cannot remember you having had it and I dare not run the risk of returning you to Mama with your face marked with pox scars just a few months before your Season.’
Lucy stilled the hand that was about to draw off her second glove. ‘Then, what am I to do, Marissa? Am I to return home? Only, it is rather late and my whole body aches from the uncomfortable journey as it is.’
‘Dear me, no!’ Marissa laughed. ‘Since it was too late to put off your visit, I have arranged for you to spend a week or so with a near neighbour, the Countess of Montcliffe. Did you meet her or the dowager countess on your previous visits? Probably not, as you weren’t then out of the schoolroom. Lady Montcliffe doesn’t entertain a great deal at the moment, but she is willing to have you stay, owing to our difficult circumstances. And don’t worry, my dear, neither of her sons is in residence at present.’
Lucy recalled the tales she had heard of the wild escapades of the two sons of the late Earl of Montcliffe. Her most vivid memories of the two brothers concerned their wild dashes through the countryside and the nearby village on their fine thoroughbreds, and the whispered tales she overheard about their equally wild behaviour in the local taverns and beyond. She fleetingly thought it might be quite exciting if one or other of them were in residence, but then she remembered her broken heart and decided that she would prefer to live in seclusion until it mended, for how could she mourn her lost love if she were being daily entertained by a hot-blooded buck?
‘I am sorry to send you on your way so swiftly, Lucy,’ she realized Marissa was saying to her, ‘but Lady Montcliffe and the dowager countess keep country hours and I don’t want your late arrival to cause their ladyships any discomfort. I will send for you as soon as Dr Walmsley says our household is free of infection. Give Lady Montcliffe and the dowager countess my felicitations, Lucy, and I will see you as soon as I am able. Goodbye, my dear.’
And so, with no more ado, Lucy was escorted back down the steps by Farrell and handed up into her carriage once more. She flopped down upon the seat she had vacated less than ten minutes previously feeling more than a little sorry for herself. Did nobody really want her?
Montcliffe Hall was a large mellow stone building that nestled against a backdrop of trees and was surrounded by well-kept gardens. A large rectangular pool was the centrepiece. Its edges were flagged, with small statuettes and stone urns placed at regular intervals along the two longer sides, creating an avenue that drew the eye to the front of the house. In the centre of the pool, a magnificent fountain played. It all looked so grand that Lucy began to feel a little nervous, but she need not have worried. Lady Montcliffe received her very graciously.
She was a slender, elegant lady of middle years, dressed in a gown of royal-blue sarsnet, the colour of which perfectly matched her eyes. She was still a beautiful woman and her dark hair was styled in a modish fashion.
‘Welcome, my dear,’ she said, in a melodious voice. ‘I hope you will be happy for the duration of your visit. It will be like a breath of fresh air to have someone young around the place … and you must treat Montcliffe Hall as your home whilst you are with us. Now, if you will go upstairs with Mrs Grant, I think you will find that all is ready for your maid to help you change out of your travelling clothes. We are dining informally at present as only myself and the dowager countess are in residence.’
Lucy followed the housekeeper along the wide, brightly lit reception hall and up a curved staircase adorned with a variety of oil paintings and then along a number of passages until the housekeeper paused and opened a door.
‘Here is your room, Miss Templeton. When you have bathed and changed, instruct your maid to ring the bell and someone will come to take you to the small dining room.’
Lucy was thankful of the chance to refresh herself in the hot bathtub. Her boxes had already been delivered to her room and Susie had hung most of her gowns when she emerged from the tub to be engulfed in a wondrously soft bath towel. Laid upon the bed was a pair of drawers, a chemise, a corset and a full-length petticoat.
‘I think we’re going to like it here, Miss Lucy,’ Susie commented, as she dressed her mistress in the layers of underwear. ‘And maybe this round-gown, since there’s no company?’ she suggested, holding up a gown of a dark-cream lawn that was one of Lucy’s favourites.
Thus attired, Lucy was eventually escorted to the dining room, where Lady Montcliffe smiled her welcome. The table was set for two, each chair with a liveried footman in attendance, and the countess directed Lucy to her seat, explaining that the dowager countess preferred to eat upstairs in her suite of rooms. ‘But you and I shall eat together, Miss Templeton … or may I call you Lucy?’
‘Oh, please do, Lady Montcliffe. That will make me feel much more at home.’
The dinner was a pleasant meal, consisting of a bowl of cream of celery soup with a freshly baked bread roll, followed by a fillet of steamed turbot in a butter sauce, which was then removed with a selection of hot meats and vegetables with accompanying sauces.
Lucy glanced around as the various covers were removed and replaced. Her eyes lighted upon two portraits that adorned the wall above the fireplace. Each was of a handsome dark-haired young man in military uniform.
Lady Montcliffe followed her glance. ‘They are my sons,’ she said, with pride in her voice. ‘The one on the left is Theo, the eldest … and the one on the right is Conrad, just one year younger. Oh, how I miss them.’
‘Are they still fighting in the Peninsular War?’ Lucy asked, wondering if the infamous Earl of Montcliffe and his younger brother were likely to remain absent for the whole duration of her stay.
‘Yes, though Theo is in England at the moment. He was wounded at Albuera in May and has been in the military hospital in London since arriving back in England. I s
tayed at our town house for a few weeks, just to be near him, but he insisted that I return home. He is so independent. He never did like anyone to comfort him when he was ill, not even as a boy. Oh, the scrapes he used to get into!’
Her eyes twinkled as she regarded Lucy’s interest. ‘I expect you have heard about many of them. The whole county was privy to his escapades, I fear. But, he was never a bad boy, simply full of fun and determined to enjoy life … and Con, of course, followed his lead.’
Her face saddened for a moment. ‘I sometimes wish those days were still here. It is so hard to know one’s sons are fighting on foreign battlefields and fearing they will be killed. But, I am not the only mother who suffers thus and I am thankful Theo was not fatally wounded. However, enough of that. Others are not so fortunate so I mustn’t complain, even though he will be returning soon to rejoin his regiment.’
She paused as the main course covers were removed and a dish of hothouse peaches was carried in, accompanied by a bowl of freshly whipped cream. When both had been served and were enjoying the juicy fruits, Lady Montcliffe eventually asked, ‘Now, how are we to occupy you on your visit? You are welcome to come and sit with me any afternoon … and the dowager countess extends a similar invitation. However, neither of us expects you to be confined to the house or to our saloons. Do you play the pianoforte?’
‘Yes, I enjoy playing music, ma’am, though I am not sure how accomplished I am,’ Lucy replied modestly.
Lady Montcliffe smiled. ‘I am sure you will be perfectly accomplished to play for the dowager countess and myself, if you will not find that too tiresome. I’m afraid I am at present out of touch with any young society. My health isn’t what it was … and, with the worry of my sons being in constant danger and my mother-in-law’s advanced age, we live very quietly here. Though I am sure I may be able to organize a small private party for you, where you could do some dancing. Do you like to dance? I am sure young ladies like yourself enjoy dancing lessons. I know I did! Ah, those were the days, We thought they would last for ever, but, alas, they don’t.’