Lady Lorna

by Joan Smith

  When the carriage arrived at the door, Mama told John Groom to stable the rig at the Red Lion. Lady Lorna said, “Would you mind terribly if we stop at the George instead, Lucy? Papa always used to take us there.” Mama, of course, agreed.

  The shopping trip was enjoyable, but did nothing to confirm our guest’s identity. We headed straight for the High Street, where Lorna bought her muslin and a good many small items — gloves and lace and a hair brush, an assortment of creams. “My complexion has become so horrid and rough,” she said, touching her cheek.

  Mama got the cherished bonnet with three feathers. Her eyes shone with pleasure as she turned her head this way and that in front of the mirror. It looked very dashing on her too. Why had she denied herself this small luxury for weeks? Egged on by Lorna, I bought myself a new bonnet stylish enough for Paris as well. It would certainly turn heads at home. I also bought the latest copy of La Belle Assemblée and a bag of my favourite treat, dried cherries.

  We took luncheon at the George where we had stabled the carriage and as the weather continued fine, went for a walk through the public park in our new bonnets and admired the Castle, an old Norman building. As we stood for a few minutes enjoying the view of the green valley in the distance, I noticed a gentleman watching us, or to be more accurate, watching Lorna. She was the type of lady gentlemen notice, handsome and with an air of distinction. He was outfitted in a blue jacket with buttons a little too large, shoulders too padded and a waist too nipped for real fashion, but he was not ill favoured. Tall, slender, rather handsome, like the hero — or villain — of a melodrama.

  I nudged her elbow and pointed him out to her. “You have an admirer,” she said.

  “No, you have. He was looking right at you.”

  She laughed. “Don’t be absurd, child. It is you he is looking at.” I risked another glance and decided she was right, but as he was not to my taste I ignored him and we soon left.

  Back at the inn Lorna said she had to visit the necessary room, and would be back in a minute. While Mama settled the bill I left the parlour, thinking I might join Lorna. I asked for the location and headed down the corridor. I was surprised that Lorna was not there, nor had I met her along the way. I made my necessary visit, and when I returned, she was sitting with Mama.

  “I thought I would meet you, Lorna,” I said.

  “Your mama was just telling me. Actually I dropped by the desk after to get a London journal. I want to read what is going on in England.” She was holding a copy of the Times.

  We were home in time for me to give Jezebel a little exercize. I changed into my riding habit and headed for the spinney, my usual route. I was surprised Lorna was there as she hadn’t mentioned taking a walk. More surprising still, she was with Taylor. They seemed to be talking in a friendly fashion. When they spotted me he just nodded and left. Lorna joined me.

  “What was Taylor doing here?” I asked.

  “I wondered the same thing. I asked him but he just said he didn’t think Lady Simmons would mind.”

  “He does walk or ride this way occasionally. As I ride on Acton’s land we never complain. Odd he should be here twice at this time though. I wager he was hoping to meet you again. He didn’t admit he recognized you? That would be a great help. He looked friendly.”

  “No, Acton has got at him. He insists he doesn’t recognize me. I know he did. He looked guilty as sin when he said it. He couldn’t look me in the eye. Just said I was prettier than Lorna. Don’t let me interrupt your ride, Katie. I’m going back to the house. “

  I rode on, hoping to overtake Taylor and speak to him, but I didn’t see him.

  We had no callers that evening. Other than Squire Beamer and Acton, we had had no callers since Lady Lorna’s arrival. We had received no invitations to dinner either. Spring is the busiest season for getting together socially. There was little doubt we were being excluded because of our guest.

  “We should have a dinner party in honour of Lady Lorna’s return, Mama,” I suggested. It was a daring suggestion for that time, with our friends all ignoring us. I was encouraged to suggest it because of my chat with Lorna the night before. Do what you wanted, and take the consequences. If everyone refused, we would know just how bad the situation was, and decide what to do about it.

  Mama glanced to Lorna, who vetoed the idea at once. “I have nothing suitable to wear, Katie,” she said.

  “That wine gown you are wearing is handsome,” I told her.

  “Not for spring! It is a winter gown. I refuse to make my grand debut in a hand-me-down gown. I must make my first public appearance in a style befitting a daughter of the Abbey,” she said, holding her head high.

  “But you only bought muslin,” Mama pointed out. “You should have bought silk.”

  “I cannot like cadging money from you,” she said.

  “Rubbish! We must go into Kelvedon tomorrow and get some silk for you,” Mama said at once.

  But on the morrow our spell of good weather was over. The sky was leaden when we arose, and before noon rain was coming down, not in torrents but in a slow, steady fall that would last all day. Mama suggested sending for the modiste to begin work on Lorna’s muslin gown, but she said she had become a good needlewoman over the years and would make it herself. We spent an hour poring over fashion magazines to pick out a pattern. That afternoon I helped her with her measurements, she cut out the dress and basted the pieces together with great skill and speed. After dinner she gathered the garment up and said, “I shall take it up to my room to try it on.”

  “It’s wonderful how you have become such a proficient needlewoman, Lorna,” Mama said. “You used to hate sewing of any sort.”

  “Necessity is the mother of invention, Lucy. If I hadn’t made myself gowns from other ladies’ rejects, I would have been in rags.” Then she carried the gown upstairs.

  “Poor thing,” Mama said, shaking her head.

  “She’s wonderful,” I said on a sigh. “What were Lorna’s skills when she lived at the Abbey, Mama? Was she a good pianist or singer or painter?”

  “Devil a bit of it,” Mama said, smiling in fond memory. “She liked riding and parties and dancing and gadding about. We had such good times. Ah, it’s grand to have her back, but I do wish people would accept her. It is boring with no one calling or inviting us about. This is all the Actons’ doing. They are freezing us out.”

  I felt in my bones she was right, and knew that something had to be done about it.

  Chapter Seven

  We had a caller the next morning, but not the sort of caller we hoped for. Acton came, again refusing to enter the house lest he have to meet “that woman.” He wouldn’t even dignify her with the title “lady.” I wanted to give him a piece of my mind, so stepped out to see him when Balky told me he was there. He might have entered without sullying his eyes as Lorna was abovestairs working on her frock. I noticed he had come in his handsome crested travelling carriage with a team of four, indicating a trip of some miles. He made regular visits to his smaller estate, Willow Hall, but as the weather was fine and the trip short, he would have taken his curricle there, not his travelling carriage. Was he darting off to London to enjoy the Season?

  “I’m surprised you’re going to London at this time,” I said. “I should think you’d be home preparing your defence against your sister, rather than looking over the new crop of debs.”

  “I am going to London on business,” he said.

  “The St. John’s Wood cottages?”

  “Among other things. How did you know about that?”

  “You know what a keen interest the neighbours take in all the doings of the reigning lord and master,” I replied in a manner Mama dislikes. Pert, she calls it. “Is it supposed to be a secret, Acton?”

  “Not at all.”

  As before, we walked down through the park. The trees and grass looked fresh after the rain. Birds warbled above, soaring and darting about from tree to tree, looking for mates or nesting. A soft spring breeze
fanned my cheeks. It was the season when life seemed full of promise, with new life burgeoning all around. I had a sudden urge to run through the park flailing my arms, as I used to do when I was young. The atmosphere was not conducive to arguing, but Acton’s firm jaw told me he had come to argue, and argue we must. Acton disliked to be thwarted. Mindful of Lorna’s courage, I felt the same way.

  “I hear you went to Colchester yesterday,” he said, in a voice that made it an accusation and got my dander up.

  “Yes, we are not quite incommunicado, despite your efforts.”

  “Social calls falling off, are they?” he taunted.

  “The grapevine has been busy. It seems Lord Acton is not the only personage deemed worthy of the grapevine, though I should not have thought a trip to Colchester worthy of gossip. It happens Lady Lorna needed a few things for her toilette.”

  “Financed by Lady Simmons, I assume?”

  “You assume correctly. A loan, until Lady Lorna recovers her dowry.”

  “Then your mama must consider anything she gives that woman a gift.”

  “You must not judge the world by yourself, milord. Money is not of prime importance to everyone.”

  “You will find your guest does not join you on the side of the angels in this matter. She’s after my sister’s dowry, but she’ll not get it.”

  “That will be for the courts to decide, n’est-ce pas?” He stopped walking and turned to face me. He grasped my upper arms and looked hard into my eyes, something between a gaze and a stone cold glare. I expected a harsher tone than he used. It seemed the anger of the stony glare had lost out.

  “Kate, that woman is using your mama. I dislike to see you being dragged into this imbroglio. Who supports her claim, other than your mama? I don’t mean to belittle her, but Lucy Simmons was always a peahen. You, on the other hand, are sensible. Don’t you see what is going on? That woman has not produced a single piece of evidence to prove her claim, or contacted anyone who would recognize her.”

  “You are forgetting her mama’s pearl ring, Acton.”

  “I couldn’t swear it was Mama’s ring. She never wore it, nor did Lorna. Other than the initials inside the band — “

  “But it did have the initials. How would she know about your mama’s old beau if she isn’t who she says she is?”

  “She has done her research, I grant her that.”

  “Where the deuce could she possibly research a thing like that, a short-lived romance of your Mama’s before she was even born? And how do you imagine she got hold of the ring? Did it sit in the shop twenty years, or did she snap it up as soon as Lorna pawned it, and wait twenty years to put it to use?” He had no answer to that, and I pressed on. “If you would only see her, talk to her. She knows all sorts of things she couldn’t possibly know if she were not Lorna.”

  He was still holding on to my arms, and gave me an impatient shake. “Listen to me!” he said with anger blazing in his eyes. “She is not my sister. I know it, my aunts know it, anyone who knew Lorna would know it. Why does she not ask help of anyone but your gullible mother?”

  “Tell me who these people who knew her are, and I’ll see that she contacts them. I know your uncle Nicholas is dead, but what about his widow? They must have visited the Abbey in Lorna’s day.”

  “A safe bet for your guest. No doubt her research tells her Aunt Agatha is now living in the Highlands.”

  “There must be other relatives.”

  “She should know them as well as I. If it comes to a court case, I’ll see the court is packed with relatives.”

  It occurred to me, too late, that they would all do and say exactly what he told them to. “I’m sure you will rehearse them as to their testimony,” I said, glaring.

  “Lorna had her own friends. It’s up to her to produce them. Ask her about Rusty.”

  “Who is that? I’ve never heard of him.”

  “Lorna has. If she’s Lorna, she’ll know. It is for your own good, Kate. I’m thinking of you and your mama.” The anger had softened to frustration, but he hadn’t backed down an inch.

  It was hard to believe that Acton was acting out of greed. He never had that reputation. I had known him all my life, and I always considered him an honourable man. He was high-spirited, liked women and horse racing and parties but there had never been any scandal. I not only liked him, I felt I could easily love him. It was Lorna’s offhand suggestion that had started me thinking in that direction.

  Or to be honest, had encouraged a thought that had always been there, lurking at the bottom of my heart. It was inevitable I should think of him in that way. The most eligible, unattainable man in the neighbourhood with a smile that could melt a heart of ice. Who else could I envisage as the hero of my gothic novels? Who else could I dream about when real life became insupportably dull?

  He had been looking over the new crop of debs for years now and not found one to his liking. Why not me, as Lorna suggested? He might do better, but he might do worse. I thought, or imagined, that our longstanding friendship was taking on an aura of romance last winter. He called more frequently than before, and stayed longer. He always stood up with me for the waltzes at the assemblies and flirted outrageously. He looked genuinely worried about me and Mama now. What if he was right about Lorna? I felt it more than possible that he truly believed he was right. Surely there was some rational explanation.

  After having shaken off his arms, I now reached out and took hold of his hands. I had done it before I knew what I was doing, but he made no move to escape my clutches. In fact, he moved his fingers and held mine in a punishing grip. “If you are so certain she is not Lorna, Acton, there must be some overwhelming reason. Can’t you tell me what it is?”

  I felt he was on the brink of doing it. “She — “ I waited eagerly, but in the end his caution won out. He just clamped his jaw, drew his eyebrows together and scowled. If there was some secret about Lorna’s disappearance, it seemed it was too terrible to share. “I can’t, Kate, but you and I have always been truthful with each other.”

  “True, you never hesitated to tell me when you had made a fool of yourself, or believed I had. I wasn’t accusing you of lying, Acton, but I honestly think you are mistaken.”

  He was silent a moment considering that. It seemed to satisfy him. “Perhaps this trip to London ... I’ll see you at Larson’s rout when I get back. Save me the waltzes.”

  “Larsons are having a rout party?” I exclaimed. And they hadn’t invited us! We were always invited to the Larson’s parties. Mrs. Larson was a very good friend of Mama’s — and they were excellent parties. I had been looking forward to it.

  He gave a tsk of annoyance or anger. “You mean you weren’t invited?”

  “The invitations have not arrived yet,” I said. “Delayed in the post, no doubt.”

  “We had ours two days ago, delivered by hand, as usual.” I could find no retort to that. “Bah — you see what that woman is doing to your reputation.”

  I took my disappointment and anger out on him. “I see what your intransigent attitude to her is doing. If you didn’t call her a liar and a scoundrel — “

  “Because she is! You’ll see I’m right. I’ll call on you as soon as I return from London. I doubt I can make it in one day, but it shouldn’t take much longer. Meanwhile, don’t — “

  He stopped, drew a deep, frustrated sigh and gave my fingers a painful squeeze. “I hardly know what to suggest,” he said, with a shake of his head. “Your faithfulness to your friends and your strong will, which I daren’t call stubbornness, are two of the things I love most about you.”

  I didn’t know what to suggest either, or even how to react. Surprise doesn’t begin to describe what I was feeling. Astonishment, amazement were closer to it. Acton had never used the word “love” in reference to his feelings for me before. I think it surprised him too. He gave a conscious, questioning look.

  Then before I knew what was happening, his arms were around me, holding me tight against his ha
rd chest. I lifted my head and gazed into his eyes, that gazed back at me in the most disconcertingly intimate way. My heart began galloping like a runaway nag. One thing was clear in the midst of my disbelief and emotional turmoil. He was going to kiss me! I braced myself for the onslaught. But he just released me and stepped back with a frustrated look.

  “I’d best go now,” he said, “but when I return, Kate — “

  “I won’t be at Larson’s rout party,” I reminded him.

  “I’ll come to you. I couldn’t do what I have in mind at a rout party,” he said, with one of his smiles that could melt an iceberg. Then he took my hand and walked me back to the house without saying another word, but the atmosphere was charged with the wonderful possibilities of that fine spring day. He got into his handsome carriage, waved, and was off, leaving me with my poor head in a whirl. I wanted to rise and soar with the birds.

  What could he not do at a rout party? Kiss me, of course. That was his meaning. I found I couldn’t face Lady Lorna and Mama yet. They would quiz me for every word Acton had said, and I wanted to think only of that one special word. I was certainly not convinced Mama and I were fools being cozened by a clever scoundrel, but I felt there was some deep secret in Lorna’s past that was being kept from us, not only by Acton but by Lady Lorna as well. What could it be?

  I had to admit she was not pushing hard enough to prove her claim. She suggested no one who might remember her and support her. She had some objection to everyone Mama suggested. She claimed proudly that she did what she wanted, and took the consequences. Had she done something so outré the family had disowned her? What could it be that she had done?

  The likeliest thing seemed some impropriety involving a man. She had taken the consequence of being put out of her home, but with the passing of time had come to realize the importance of a proper background. She had even told me so. She had the ring, she knew a good deal about people and life at the Abbey. She had to be Lorna, whatever Acton and Lady Mary said.