by Janet Woods
‘Bear that in mind because I’m having second thoughts about lending you the purse at this moment.’
Adelaide ran off, clutching it against her chest.
The next day was spent preparing for the ball. Baths were filled and hair washed. Warm water was bliss and Vivienne’s bath was scented with rose oil. She could have relaxed completely had it not been for the querulous voices of mother and daughter demanding this and that as they sent the maid dashing back and forth.
When she returned home she would buy a house and live by herself, she thought. She would paint and write stories, learn to ride a horse and have dogs and cats to keep her company. Perhaps she would hire a maid to help her.
Her mind moved on. Since she’d have no husband or children to worry about, her sisters and their children would visit and chat about their lives, offering her a small sliver of family life, like a silver sardine lying on a sea of dry brown toast. Her house would be filled with grey ghosts of what might have been. Perhaps she should buy a house further north, to make visiting easier.
She drifted off, only to wake when the water had cooled. Shivering a little she dried herself, pulled on her robe and applied a brush to the long strands of her hair.
Ten minutes later the maid came in, looking flustered. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Fox, I couldn’t get away and I nearly forgot you. That’s because you’re so quiet and polite and no trouble. You should have rung the bell.’
‘I fell asleep in the bath. It was very relaxing. Where are my aunt and cousin now?’
‘Resting. They wanted a massage and now they’re both sleeping, so they won’t be tired later.’
Vivienne was the last on the list for the maid, who scurried back and forth, shaking out gowns and inspecting them.
‘No repairs are needed. Slow down, Maria, you’re tiring yourself out. I usually do everything for myself except tighten my stays on the occasions when I wear them. So if you will assist with those I can manage the rest.’
‘What about your hair, Miss Fox?’
‘I can wear it in a bun.’
‘And have it fall down when you dance?’
Vivienne remembered previous balls. ‘I doubt if I’ll dance much.’
‘I heard that Lord LéSayres has booked the first dance. You’re lucky Miss, you’ve got a classical face that will still be lovely when you grow old. I know how to create a simple Grecian style with little curls at the back. I’m not sending you out looking anything less than elegant because I’m hoping to find a permanent place as a lady’s maid and you’re a good showcase for my skills.’
It was the first time anyone had complimented her on her looks, and although Vivienne didn’t know quite whether to believe her or not she felt a warm glow. ‘If I hear of someone who needs a maid I’ll suggest you. Perhaps myself, if circumstances change.’
‘Thank you, Miss Fox. I’ll fetch you some refreshment, and then I’ll get on with repairing the frill on Miss Goodman’s gown. She trod on it when she tried it on.’
‘Place a cup and saucer and extra food on the tray for yourself, Maria. You might not get the chance later on.’
‘That’s very kind of you, Miss Fox. Thank you.’
Four hours later and Maria was putting the finishing touches to Vivienne’s hair when Adelaide came in. ‘Mama’s in a froth because the tongs have frizzled her hair. The earl has arrived and she wants you to go down and entertain him, Vivienne.’ Her cousin stared at her. ‘What on earth have you done to your hair, it looks odd.’
‘Odd?’
‘Well … different anyway, in an old-fashioned way.’
Vivienne’s hairstyle, with which she’d been thrilled until then, sank in her estimation. ‘Maria gave me a new hairstyle.’
‘Maria, you must remember who is paying you for your services. If there is to be a new hairstyle it should be fashioned on me first. You must create one for me in exactly the same way. It’s a lovely style and wasted on my cousin.’
A worm of stubbornness surfaced in Vivienne. ‘On the contrary, Adelaide, it is not wasted on me and it’s about time you realized it. It would also be bad manners to keep the earl waiting while your hair is restyled in the meantime. Maria has been rushed off her feet as it is.’
‘Will you hurry up, Maria?’ Adelaide said crossly. ‘My stays need adjusting.’
Maria closed the catch on the pearl and jade necklace. ‘There, you look lovely, Miss Fox.’ She had yet to don her second glove but she could do that downstairs.
Adelaide reminded the maid sharply, ‘You still have my rouge to apply.’
Vivienne gave the maid a quick smile of thanks as she moved past her.
The earl was waiting in the hall. He watched her descend, his eyes never wavering from hers. She wondered what he’d do if she jumped astride the banister and slid down to the bottom. Would he step forward and catch her?
When she reached halfway he smiled, as though he’d read her thoughts.
She was sure she was grinning like an idiot when she reached him. ‘I’m sorry we’re keeping you waiting.’
‘You are certainly well worth the wait, Miss Fox.’ He took her ungloved hand, turned it over and kissed her wrist, saying softly, ‘Exquisite … just exquisite.’
He was such a good liar she nearly believed him.
‘Your cloak, Miss.’
‘Allow me.’ The earl took the cloak from the footman and placed it around her shoulders.
His proximity was disturbing enough to make her feel less in control of herself than was wise, or seemly. He was taller than her so she had to look up to him. A smile trembled on her lips, and then her cheeks warmed.
He was doing this on purpose and she was cross with him. ‘I should remind you, sir, that despite any rumours to the contrary, I have no dowry, and flirting makes no impression on me.’
He looked surprised. ‘Then why are you blushing?’
‘I’m not. It’s a warm night, that’s all.’
‘It will get warmer, I imagine.’ She didn’t quite know how to take that. ‘With regards to your dowry, your uncle has already informed me of your lack of one.’
‘Then why are you paying me attention?’
‘You want me to be honest?’
‘Of course.’
‘It’s because I like you and find you easy to be with. Can we put our previous skirmishes behind us and be friends?’ Her heart leapt, and then crashed when he said, ‘I’m charged by my brother with finding myself a wealthy wife, one who will restore the LéSayres family fortune. In return I can offer her a home and my title. Will you help me find that suitable wife, Miss Fox?’
‘Why me?’
‘You are both sensible and intelligent. Also, you are mature in your thinking and will not, hopefully, flutter your eyelashes and make me feel as though I’m being pursued.’
‘I thought that’s what the aim of this seasonable charade was for.’ The children he’d father would be beautiful, inheriting his blue eyes and dark hair. ‘You forgot to mention love?’ she murmured. ‘Do you not want to marry for love?’
He began to tie the ribbons of her cloak and those eyes of his were gazing into hers now. They were intense. ‘If I could find a woman to love, one who would love me in return, then that would be all that mattered.’
‘And the fortune you need?’
‘A sad fact of life and nothing to do with love, though in fact I hope it will come about. So will you advise me … you could regard me as a brother if you wish?’
A brother? What was wrong with her that he couldn’t see her as a woman? When she nodded he leaned forward and his mouth touched against her forehead in a brotherly kiss. ‘Thank you, Miss Fox. In return I’ll advise you on men who are suitable for you, and men who are not.’
‘And I’ll tweak your brotherly nose if you dare stick it where it’s not wanted, My Lord. Over the past few years I’ve not met one man I consider to be suitable, which has stood me in good stead.’
‘You’re a coward, Miss Fox, but
a challenge nevertheless. Perhaps your luck will turn this year in the form of a hero on a black horse who will come to steal your heart away.’
‘Black horses always look so fierce. I’d prefer a white one.’
‘They show the mud. Would brown be suitable … I think so. Now we’re kin of sorts you may address me as Alex when we’re alone if you wish. May I call you Vivienne?’
‘I do not wish – and no, you may not address me in such a familiar manner. Notwithstanding our peculiar relationship, you are being much too forward on such a short acquaintance.’
‘I have very little time in which to achieve my goal, and I don’t like idling my time away when there’s an estate awaiting my attention.’
‘You expect some woman to place her fortune and her … person in your hands without bothering with the effort required in wooing her?’
The corners of his lips twitched. ‘Would she expect me to lie then?’
‘I imagine she’d appreciate being treated with respect, especially if you considered her worthy of the honour of becoming Lady LéSayres.’
‘Now you are being sarcastic, my dove.’
‘I am not your dove, and I refuse to argue with you anymore, since you are amusing yourself by provoking me.’
He gave a little huff of laughter. ‘Forgive me and let’s be friends.’
‘There is nothing to forgive, My Lord. I allowed my temper to get the better of me. It’s for you to forgive me.’
‘Then we will forgive each other.’
He was very attractive, his mouth a firm curve, and the thought of him sweeping her off her feet and kissing her senseless was still active in her mind. As for the nose she’d threatened to tweak, a stray thought placed a kiss on the end of it to soothe it. No man had affected her like this before. There must be something wrong with her. Did all spinsters have such vigorous spurts of imagination?
She sighed. Perhaps she should consult with Adelaide’s fortune-teller.
Surely you’re not that desperate.
Yes I am! Why else am I hoping he’ll kiss me in such a disgusting but thrilling manner?
She was acting like a schoolgirl.
The footman coughed. The earl moved a step or two back as there came the patter of feet. Adelaide and her mother trod lightly down the stair, fluttering their hands and swishing their skirts. They looked lovely and wore similar gowns. Edwina tripped forward. ‘Ah … my dear Lord LéSayres, how wonderful to see you again. We’re so sorry to keep you waiting. Vivienne, you may walk behind us with the footman.’
The earl lifted Aunt Edwina’s hand to his mouth. ‘Mrs Goodman … Miss Goodman … you resemble sisters rather than mother and daughter.’
They gazed at each other and tittered in tune.
The earl had kissed her on the forehead! Vivienne must correct him about such familiar behaviour. That might be all right in the country but it was not acceptable here. Not that she’d expect a friendly kiss to lead to anything, but some ladies might get the wrong impression altogether. She wondered what his mouth would feel like against hers and she touched her bottom lip with a fingertip.
Edwina squawked like a fairground parrot. ‘For goodness sake, Vivienne, do stop daydreaming. The evening will be over before we get there.’
Seven
Dressed in pale rose satin, and the plumes on her headband waving with every toss of her head, Vivienne’s aunt fussily arranged their small procession to the assembly room to attend the Beauchamps’ ball. She issued final instructions.
‘You must allow me to introduce you to those of my acquaintance at the ball, My Lord,’ Edwina said, her smile ingratiating as she gathered them all together on the doorstep like a mother goose with her goslings.
It was as if they were the main players in a wedding, Vivienne thought. Aunt Edwina took possession of Alex’s right arm and Adelaide attached herself to his left, so he couldn’t escape even if he wanted to.
‘You bring up the rear with the footman, Vivienne. Keep a look out for footpads.’
‘How will I know one if I see one?’
Mother and daughter turned similar frowns her way, and her aunt chided, ‘Don’t be facetious dear, it’s so unbecoming.’
Manacled as he was by mother and daughter, Alex managed to turn his head and wink at her.
‘Do you have something in your eye, My Lord?’ Edwina trilled.
‘Definitely,’ he said, and without further explanation, ‘shall we go?’
Vivienne smothered her laughter.
The evening air was cool and satiny against her face as she trailed invisibly behind them with the footman. His name was Matthew, she remembered. She imagined she was walking with a prince in a scented garden, instead of a dirty street full of unfortunate beggars, pickpockets and ladies of the night – those much maligned creatures that lacked the skill to earn enough money to keep body and soul together. No doubt the stocky young footman would be amused at the thought of his rapid elevation to the peerage.
She was tired of being Adelaide’s shadow and wondered how people would react if she danced down the street braying like a donkey. ‘Hee-haw,’ she whispered, which was as close to it as she could get.
The footman’s glance slipped her way. ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Fox, did you say something?’
‘Nothing of importance … I neighed.’
His mouth slipped into a grin. ‘As one is obliged to on occasion.’
‘Do you have a family, Matthew?’
He looked surprised at being addressed by his name, and then smiled. ‘No, Miss Fox. I was married once but my wife passed away due to a fever.’
‘I’m so sorry to hear it.’
‘Cease your gossiping with the servant, Vivienne, it’s so lower class,’ her aunt said sharply.
Vivienne gazed apologetically at Matthew, who raised a wry eyebrow. She moved her gaze to the more refined backs of her companions. Alex looked just as handsome from behind as he did from the front, she mused. His suit was a snug fit. She loved the way his hair curled against his neck, and the taut rolling movements of the muscles under the tail of his jacket as he moved with the strength that powered him.
She had no time to admire him further because they were soon at their destination. Matthew relieved them of their cloaks.
‘Lord LéSayres … Mrs Goodman … Miss Goodman … and Miss Fox.’
Vivienne was pleased the announcer had remembered her name this year, due no doubt to the rumours of her good fortune. Last year she’d been announced as Miss Frocks, and people had called her that all evening.
The lawyer, Simon Mortimer, stood next to Freddie Lamington. He eyed her up and down, his expression bold, and then bowed from the waist. She ignored him.
Freddie’s gaze went to Adelaide, and when her cousin glanced over her fan at him and giggled, he smiled expansively.
The crowd had fallen silent when they’d been announced and Vivienne could almost hear the collective heartbeat of the women present, and feel the draught from the fluttering eyelashes as the ladies set eyes on the earl. Then the hubbub resumed, but at a higher level, and it wasn’t all about the earl as snatches came her way.
‘The poor relative looks well this year. Do you think there’s any truth in the rumour that she’s inherited a fortune?’
‘Ask the chit with her … it’s not something she’d be able to keep to herself. Her mother has a smug look though, I thought LéSayres … have you met him before?’
‘Not that I recall. Miss Goodman is a pretty little filly, isn’t she? Freddie has been after her since she came out. Now he’s a baron I’d wager my money on him getting her to the altar this year.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure. Is anything going on there with LéSayres, d’you think?’
‘I’ve heard he’s without funds and is sponsored by the broker, John Howard. Not a bad friend to have if one needs to raise the wind, not so if you can’t repay the interest. Howard is after a title, I believe, so it doesn’t hurt him to have friends among
st the aristocracy. Not that LéSayres has any influence there. He’s a farmer, here to find a wife with a fortune to spare. As for Mrs Goodman, she won’t accept anything below an annual ten thousand for her daughter, and the girl has a purse of five thousand a year, I’m given to understand.’
‘That much … I might make a bid for her myself.’
‘You’d better be quick because the mother might decide to settle for a title instead now she’s got a live earl on her arm.’
‘Money talks with her. I’m given to understand LéSayres hasn’t got a feather to fly on, which is why I’m curious as to Howard’s sponsorship of him.’
‘There is a connection between Miss Fox and John Howard; I believe she’s a distant relative. If Howard has an ambition to join the ranks of the aristocrats then he might marry his relative into the LéSayres family. The girl is attractive in a quiet sort of way, and she has a sense of quality about her. She’s certainly not full of bounce, like her cousin.’
‘Money certainly talks in such cases, but I doubt if our country gentleman has any influence in the matter.’
They moved off, leaving Vivienne pink with the pleasure of overhearing the compliment.
Vivienne wasn’t sure how much she was supposed to be worth. She had owned a total of five shillings before the inheritance. Her father didn’t know for certain either, though he’d waved the letter in the air muttering the vague and immeasurable sum of £500,000 – a figure with so many noughts it was much too vast to absorb.
They had stared at each other while the sum registered in their minds, looked at the letter again, and had then danced around the room together, laughing at the ridiculousness of such wealth. When they were out of breath her father had said doubtfully, ‘Perhaps the clerk put the comma in the wrong place and added a couple of zeroes by mistake,’ which seemed the most likely. This had lessened their merriment a little, until the letter was followed up by a visit from a lawyer.
She was jerked out of her reverie when the earl moved closer to her and said, ‘It seems we’re going to be the topic of the evening.’
‘People like to gossip, that’s what the London season is all about. It’s because you’re a new face. They will pick on someone else once they learn what they want to know.’