by Louise Allen
The carriage went steeply downhill, then up again. ‘Ludgate Hill. We are here.’
The door was unlocked, the footmen flanked the steps as the three women descended and a doorman ushered them into the shop where they were shown through into a private room by a man who Madelyn had thought at first glance must be a customer. But apparently this was Mr Sedgwyck, the manager, condescending to inspect Miss Aylmer’s jewels personally in response to a note from Lady Fairfield.
He spread them out on black velvet. ‘A very nice diamond parure. Not perhaps in the very latest style and in need of cleaning and a repair to the loose clasps. We could reset the stones if you wish.’
‘The set was my mother’s. She never wore them in recent years.’ Not, in fact, since Father had become determined on total historical accuracy in dress as well as manner of living. ‘Cleaning and repairs will be all that is required.’
‘Certainly. And these pearls are very fine. They never go out of style, of course. The earrings are freshwater pearls of some age, I imagine. I would advise restringing the necklace. And these... Good gracious, are they original?’ He was lifting out the first of the old pieces her father had bought for her mother.
‘Most of them are early sixteenth century. That one and that are, I believe, earlier. And these are recent settings of old stones.’
‘Magnificent and most interesting.’ Mr Sedgwyck was poring over the gems with a magnifying glass. ‘Quite unwearable these days, of course—’ He broke off at a knock on the door.
One of the assistants looked round the edge. ‘Mr Ransome is here, sir. He saw the carriage and is enquiring if he might join Miss Aylmer.’
‘Yes, of course.’ He had hired the carriage for her, so she supposed he had recognised it. Or more likely the team of matched bays harnessed to it.
Jack came in, making the office seem even smaller, was greeted by Mr Sedgwyck who clearly knew him well and shook hands with the ladies. ‘I should tell you, in strictest confidence, Sedgwyck, that Miss Aylmer and I are betrothed.’ He turned to Madelyn. ‘Do you mind if I join your discussion? You have brought your jewellery to be overhauled, I see.’
‘Yes. We have agreed that the diamond set is to be cleaned and checked over and the pearls restrung.’
‘I was admiring the antique pieces,’ the jeweller remarked. ‘Museum quality, most of them. Unless of course Miss Aylmer wishes to have any of the stones recut?’
‘Certainly not.’ Madelyn put her hand down protectively, fingers spread over the richly coloured, rounded stones and the heavy gold links and mounts.
‘When these were made faceted cutting was not technically possible,’ Jack began.
‘I am perfectly aware of that.’ She bit the inside of her cheek before she could say anything more. She certainly did not need a lecture on antique jewellery.
‘The colours will show to more advantage and the stones will sparkle if they are recut,’ he persisted.
‘That would be vandalism—virtually all these stones have a recorded history. Besides, I prefer to wear them as they are.’
‘They would be quite unsuitable for anything but a masquerade,’ Jack said flatly. ‘Sedgwyck, they had best be stored here, I believe.’
‘I was about to suggest that.’ The two men nodded, quite in agreement, Madelyn saw, smarting at their assumption that they had resolved the situation.
‘No.’
‘Ma’am, Her Majesty the Queen has her jewels in our keeping. I assure you they would be quite safe.’
‘No. Thank you. I am sure they would be in good hands, but, no.’ She would be civil if it killed her. ‘Please have them cleaned and the clasps and links checked and then they will all be returned to me, if you please.’
‘Er...yes, Miss Aylmer.’ Sedgwyck shot an uncertain glance to Jack, sitting beside her.
‘I am not married yet, Mr Sedgwyck.’ She smiled as she said it, and he tittered nervously, uncertain whether she had been speaking in jest.
Beside her, Jack made a low sound suspiciously like a growl, but when he spoke he sounded perfectly pleasant. The man was a good actor, which was something she should be wary of. ‘And in the meantime you will need some jewellery to wear, my dear.’ He turned and smiled and she saw that he was quite deliberately calling her to order, expecting her to behave herself in front of the jeweller and not display any of those worrying eccentricities, such as a liking for ancient gems or a refusal to do as two men told her.
She returned the smile sweetly, finding an unexpected pleasure in this duel. It had never been any use protesting to Father. He would not notice any dissent unless it was a full-blown tantrum or a flat refusal to do something—and either of those reactions met with swift retaliation—but Jack Ransome was very aware of her and her reactions and that was strangely stimulating.
‘If you say so, dearest.’ She returned his smile with one just as false and saw his eyes narrow. ‘What do you suggest?’
‘Something suitable for afternoon wear and less dressy occasions. Your diamonds and pearls will be with you again before you need formal evening wear, I imagine. Some citrines, perhaps. Or what do you have with aquamarines and pearls, Sedgwyck?’
Trays of necklaces and earrings were brought and displayed. They were pretty, clearly of the highest quality, but to Madelyn they seemed too fine, too delicate, for her. She was tall, she preferred strong colours and bold shapes and these dainty pieces felt wrong, bloodless even. They had no life, no past, no romance.
She tried necklaces, slipped on bracelets, held up earrings and pretended delight with everything Jack chose for her. They were going to disagree, if she could find the courage to argue, but she was not going to fight her battles in front of shopkeepers and over a few trinkets. For a moment she wished she did not have to fight at all, that she could just give in. Jack was persuasive, attractive and reassuringly certain about everything. It would be so easy...
Chapter Seven
‘We will take them,’ Jack said, apparently making the decision for both of them. Sedgwyck bustled out to have them boxed and wrapped and Madelyn made a sudden resolution not to take the easy path, not to lose herself and what she needed.
Lady Fairfield roused herself from her silent contemplation of a display of tiaras. ‘Lady Dalesford is holding a soirée tomorrow evening. I thought it would be a suitable occasion to make your acquaintance aware of your impending marriage and the fact that you will be using the title, Lord Dersington. A word in a few ears and it will be all around town within twenty-four hours without unnecessary fuss, don’t you agree?’
‘I believe not. Better for Madelyn to become known and to feel easier in society before we complicate matters, in my opinion.’
No, I do not agree.
For a moment Madelyn thought she’d had the courage to say it out loud, but, of course she had not. She wanted to get her debut over with and, surely, the status of being betrothed would help her reception?
And all the attention will be on Jack if he announces he is assuming the title, a small voice whispered. They won’t be looking at me...
Surely Louisa would counter his argument, stand up for her proposal? But, no.
‘If you think it best, of course. Now, the gown with the white silk gauze over the ice-blue under-slip and the floss trim will be just the thing. I do not think you have tried it on yet, Madelyn—it is one of those I ordered when I selected the day dresses I sent down to Kent for you.’
Madelyn knew exactly how she would look in it and repressed a grimace. Her protests about how little pale colours and flimsy fabrics suited her had been firmly set aside the second time she raised the subject—young ladies, especially those not yet presented at Court, wore only the palest colours and, as for fabrics, what she liked was apparently so far removed from the mode that she would be a laughing stock.
‘Fatal, my dear, quite fatal,’ Louisa had assured
her. ‘Especially in your situation.’
‘Which is?’
‘One in which you must avoid all suspicion of being an eccentric. What is allowable in a scholarly gentleman is quite impossible for a young lady and, given your intended’s own somewhat irregular career up to now, it would be most unfortunate. You must not stand out in any way.’
So Madelyn had bitten her tongue, yet again, and had applied herself to reading the latest editions of the journals Lady Fairfield ordered, the most fashionable novels from the circulating library and the Court and Society columns in all the newspapers. Dancing lessons would begin tomorrow and those, she was assured, would help with her deportment.
‘You are so very tall,’ Louisa had lamented. ‘And you have...’ she had waved her hands vaguely at Madelyn’s shoulders and bust ‘...presence. You walk like a duchess—you command the room. And that will not do for an unmarried girl, especially one who is, if you will forgive me, not yet in the current...er...fashionable style.’
Tiny steps, chin down, modestly lowered eyes, absolute observance of every rule and she would pass muster until she was married and by then she would know how to go on, Louisa had assured her.
Now she followed behind as Jack, very correctly, escorted the older woman out of the shop to the waiting carriage. She smiled sweetly at everyone and sat looking blankly out of the window at the thronged pavements as Harper settled herself with the purchases on the rear-facing seat. The feeling of dizziness that had come over her in the inn on their way to London was threatening again, along with a strange sense of being quite dissociated from everything around her.
I want to go home, I want to pull up the drawbridge and tend my garden and ride my mare in the water meadows. I want Mist with me to talk to.
A flicker of colour jerked her back to the City: a woman in a bright red spencer over a blue gown was making her way up the hill, a fat white pug at her heels. Heads turned as she passed and Madelyn’s mood lifted. She had given her word, agreed to marry, agreed to live in this strange new world. If she wanted children, wanted a future that was not a dream, then she had to do this, had to make it work. And somehow had to hang on to this temper that she had not known she possessed.
‘Now,’ Louisa said brightly, ‘you wanted to match some curtain fabric, I think, Madelyn. St James’s Square, then Harding, Howell in Schomberg House,’ she said to the footman who was holding the carriage door and waiting for orders.
‘That is in Pall Mall,’ she explained as they set off. ‘Just around the corner from the town house. We will drop off Harper with the jewellery first. Do you have your fabric sample?’ Her eyebrows rose at the sight of the square of heavy silk that Madelyn unfolded. ‘But that is very faded.’
‘I want to find something that looks as this did thirty years ago, but not brand new,’ Madelyn explained. If nothing else, she was used to recreating the past. The real question was whether she could create herself a present.
* * *
The half-dress evening gown was every bit as unflattering as Madelyn had expected. The fit was perfect once Harper had worked her magic, but inside the dainty pale perfection Madelyn knew she looked clumsy, awkward and plain. Jack’s choice of refined jewellery did not help. She simply could not manage the baffling requirements of being an acceptable young lady—modest yet responsive, shy yet poised, pretty but not seductive. The creature she was attempting to ape seemed a mass of contradictions. She knew herself to be reticent and unused to company, yet Louisa criticised her confident deportment, lamenting that she seemed more like a young matron than the blushing debutante she was supposed to be.
‘No, no, do not round your shoulders and stoop!’ she cried as Madelyn made another attempt to walk towards her and curtsy.
‘But you say I am too tall and clumsy. I was trying to look smaller.’
‘I know. Oh, dear, I do not know what it is, but you have presence.’
‘I have a bust,’ Madelyn corrected, peering down at the effect that tight lacing had on the area exposed by the low neckline of the gown. ‘And I think it is rather more...generous than is ideal for this style of gown. Could I not leave off the stays?’ she asked hopefully.
‘No. Oh, whatever will you say next? Harper, bring the curling tongs, Miss Aylmer’s ringlets are drooping and, yes, Madelyn, you must have ringlets unless you want to appear quite out of the mode. Perhaps some rouge... No, too obvious on that white complexion.’
I look like a perfectly blanched stick of celery with the leaves still on top, Madelyn thought as she stared resentfully at the long glass in the corner of her bedchamber. If someone had pondered for a year on how to create a gown and a hairstyle to suit me as badly as possible they could not have done better than this.
* * *
The sight of the other guests at the soirée did nothing to lift her mood. She could see exactly what Louisa meant as she looked at the throng of unmarried girls, all fluttering like fragile butterflies in their pale gauzes and muslins. Their cheeks were pink, their lips were rosy, their hair glossy and curled and all without any evidence of the slightest artifice. They took small steps, they kept their eyes modestly lowered and yet somehow managed to cast winsome, innocently flirtatious glances at passing gentlemen as though they had spent two hours a day practising. Perhaps they do.
Madelyn caught a glimpse of herself in one of the mirrored panels on the landing as they approached the receiving line for her to make her first curtsy to polite society. She repressed a shudder. She was not vain, but she was used to the way she usually appeared and fancied that it suited her height, her figure and her looks. This, on the other hand...
‘My dear Hortensia, what a charming party, exactly what we need to enliven a London summer.’ Louisa Fairfield was exchanging kisses in the air with a handsome middle-aged woman whose diamonds made Madelyn blink. ‘So good of you to invite my young friend, Miss Aylmer—this will be her first party in town, you know. Lady Dalesford, Miss Aylmer from Kent. Madelyn, my dear friend Lady Dalesford.’
Madelyn curtsied, smiled, did her best to sound grateful for the treat in store and pretended not to notice the older woman’s sharp scrutiny.
‘Charming,’ Lady Dalesford murmured, almost managing to sound convincing. ‘So pleased to meet you, Miss Aylmer. Are you related to the Aylmers who have that castle?’
‘Castle Beaupierre? Yes, ma’am. It was my late father’s life’s work.’
‘How...interesting. I expect you are very glad of the opportunity to come to London.’
Madelyn was still smiling through gritted teeth when they entered the first of what looked like a series of large reception rooms.
‘The ballroom has a partition which has been brought across,’ Louisa explained, pausing for an instant on the threshold to survey the throng of guests. ‘With the anteroom it makes three more intimate chambers.’
Intimate was not the word Madelyn would have chosen, but she kept the smile in place as she followed Lady Fairfield, concentrating on taking small steps, on not stooping, not staring, not worrying about the amount of ankle and bosom that she was displaying. Perhaps if she bent at the knees a little... No, she felt she was walking like a duck when she did that.
Louisa seemed to have a destination in mind, even as she worked her way from group to group, introducing Madelyn as she went. She was picking out matrons of her own age, but no men, Madelyn noticed, and the group sitting in a far corner seemed to be her target.
‘That is Lady Macclesbourne. She has three delightful daughters,’ she murmured in an aside. ‘Such lovely girls, such a success, two have made the most eligible connections last Season and the youngest cannot be far behind her sisters. You could do worse than to model yourself on them.’
Lady Macclesbourne—Dearest Eliza to Louisa—professed herself delighted to make Miss Aylmer’s acquaintance and introduced Dorothea, a lively blonde, Daphne, a pert blonde and Caroline, a grace
ful blonde. They all managed to look enchanting in cream, ivory and shades of pale blue and not in the slightest washed out, despite their hair colour.
No wonder their mama seemed pleased to see me and asked me to join them, Madelyn thought. I must show them up to perfection.
The sisters turned periwinkle-blue eyes on Madelyn and proceeded to interrogate her thoroughly. She lived in a castle? How romantic and Gothic! But perhaps there were draughts or ghosts? And a moat with swans? So pretty! And had she any brothers? No? What a pity, they would love to meet a knight in shining armour, just like a hero of Walter Scott’s poems. Did she not just adore Mr Scott? Did her father wear armour? Or perhaps she had one of those pointed hats which must be so difficult to keep in place. Miss Daphne had worn one to a fancy dress ball and had been forced to abandon it after half an hour.
‘Oh, see by the door.’ Miss Caroline, the only unengaged one and therefore the only one supposed to show any interest in eligible gentlemen, nodded towards the entrance. ‘It is that mysterious Mr Ransome just come in. Do give us your opinion—do you not think him good looking, Miss Aylmer?’
Madelyn looked. ‘Very,’ she said, attempting a slightly patronising, light tone and failing dismally. Jack was a good-looking man when he was dressed for riding or for paying calls about town, but in evening dress he was... ‘Er, yes. Quite distinguished. Very...um, acceptable.’
Acceptable? You have certainly accepted him, you ninny. Will this be another trial of being married to him, that he will be ogled and pursued by other women?
Severe black and white suited Jack and showed off an athletic figure to full advantage. As he strolled in their direction, showing no sign that he had seen her, she saw that the gaze of the ladies followed and that some of the gentlemen watched with speculation clear in their expressions.