Spring Muslins Read online

  ‘It is my first visit to Almack’s and I am relatively unknown in Town.’ She thought that sounded as if she had been a wallflower all evening and added, ‘Not that I have wanted for partners this evening.’

  ‘I never doubted it. Sally Jersey told me there were any number of gentlemen eager to dance with you.’

  Oh dear, now he thought her conceited! What was it about this man that made her so flustered?

  She said drily, ‘That is because they think – erroneously – that Lady Quidenham is about to make me her heir.’

  ‘More likely because you are one of the prettiest young ladies in the room.’

  She blushed furiously, but was spared any need to reply because they had come up to her aunt. Sir Darius lifted her fingers from his sleeve, kissed them lightly then, with a word to Lady Quidenham, he left them.

  Pretending to busy herself with straightening her gloves, Lucy watched him as he walked away, noting how the eyes of nearly every lady followed his tall figure, some of them patently sighing as he passed. Not that he noticed any of them, although Lucy was not sure if this was to his credit. Perhaps he expected such attentions as his due.

  *

  When Lucia returned to Portman Square she found Miss Morrison waiting in her bedchamber, a heavy cashmere shawl wrapped about her shoulders.

  ‘Well, how was it, Lucia? I told Betty she could go on to bed and I would look after you. I want to know everything!’

  ‘Wonderful!’ Lucia plumped down upon the bed, beaming. She was not in the least tired and was happy to describe her evening.

  ‘Oh, Morry, everyone was most kind. I was on the dancefloor almost continuously from the moment we arrived!’ She laughed. ‘My aunt might have lived as a recluse for the past dozen years but it was clear she is highly regarded by the patronesses of Almack’s – but then, she is a dowager viscountess. They were at pains to come and speak to her, and to approve of her niece! They introduced me to any number of suitable partners.’

  Not that Sir Darius was suitable. She had no notion of what had persuaded him to stand up with her.

  You were one of the prettiest young ladies in the room.

  Recalling his compliment sent her insides tumbling with excitement until she squashed it firmly. Sir Darius had no thoughts of matrimony, and if he had, she was convinced he could have had the pick of the beauties in Town. She had seen how the other ladies in the room reacted to him, and not only the unmarried ones! They hung on his every word, gazed up at him adoringly when he danced with them and their eyes followed him hungrily when he left them. Not that he ever looked back.

  No, Sir Darius was not interested in her. He was merely being kind to her as Verity’s friend. Why, he did not even like her very much!

  She slid off the bed and allowed Morry to help her out of her gown.

  ‘My purpose in going to Almack’s was to show off Orchard Gowns to the greatest number of young ladies and their mothers. For that, there could be no better place.’ She slipped a wrap over her nightshift. ‘I have heard Almack’s described as the Marriage Mart and it is a very apt name for it; a ballroom full of debutantes being paraded as prospective brides.’

  ‘How can you sound so disapproving?’ Miss Morrison asked her, smiling. ‘You have just said how much you enjoyed yourself.’

  Lucia did not reply immediately. She carefully carried her gown into the dressing room and laid it over a chair, ready for Betty to clean it and put it away in the morning.

  ‘I enjoyed the dancing,’ she said at last.

  And dancing with one man in particular. Be honest, Lucia!

  She shook her head. ‘I am far too busy to think about a husband – not that I have anyone in mind, Morry, before you ask! – but I went to Almack’s to observe everything with a, a kind of detached amusement.’

  ‘Perhaps you should think about marriage,’ suggested Miss Morrison. ‘A good match would solve all your problems.’

  ‘Perhaps, if it was the sort of marriage Mama and Papa enjoyed, full of mutual love and respect.’ She flushed. ‘I know Papa was a gambler, always chasing another scheme, making another plan, but Mama never minded that.’

  She stopped, thinking back to her happy, loving childhood. There had been laughter and presents when Papa came home with coins in his pocket, but there had been tears, too, when there was no money to pay the rent, although Mama had been careful not to let her see them. She had crept downstairs one night when she could not sleep and peeped into the drawing room to find Mama weeping in Papa’s arms. Even now she could remember his words.

  ‘Don’t cry, Flo, this is only a temporary set-back. We shall win through, my love. We always do, you know. And nothing matters, if we truly love one another.’

  She gave herself a little shake.

  ‘No, Morry, only the very deepest love would persuade me to marry and that is so rare that I shall not even think about it!’

  Miss Morrison gave a loud sigh. ‘Sometimes I think there could be nothing better than to have a man to look after one. To take all the cares from one’s shoulders.’

  Inexplicably, the image of Sir Darius intruded. Lucia quickly pushed it away.

  She said, ‘That is all very well, but one would be a fool to wait for such a man to come along! Instead we shall continue to work at making Orchard Gowns a success, for all of us.’

  *

  The riding party had been rearranged for the following Wednesday and early on the Tuesday morning, Grace came in person to deliver the new riding habit. It was a deep cherry red wool, the mannish jacket ornamented with military style frogging and finished off by a matching curly-brimmed hat designed to be worn at a jaunty angle on top of Lucia’s dusky curls. She invited Grace and Morry to come up to her room while she tried it on, and as she twirled before the long mirror, they both cried out that it was just perfect. Only Lucia regarded her image with a tinge of doubt.

  ‘You do not think it is a little bold?

  ‘It is, of course,’ agreed Miss Morrison, ‘but the idea is to attract attention to the designs and it will surely do that.’

  ‘Strong colours suit you,’ Grace told her. ‘And you are a clipping rider, Lucia. There could be no better advertisement for my work.’

  ‘It is certainly not an ensemble for the faint hearted.’

  Lucy turned again to the mirror. There was no denying the riding habit was an excellent cut, accentuating the curves of her dainty figure and tiny waist before the full skirts flared out over her hips and fell away in soft folds. She laughed suddenly.

  ‘I shall have to keep my head up and pretend I have not a care in the world! Pray, help me to change and we shall hang this up in readiness for tomorrow.’

  It was eleven o’clock before Lucia was back in her morning gown and Grace gave a little start when the chimes of the clock in the hall below drifted into the room.

  ‘Heavens, is it so very late? I must go, Mrs Arbuttle is bringing her daughter for another fitting this afternoon.’

  ‘You go down with her, Lucia,’ said Morry, picking up the riding habit from the bed. ‘I will hang this up and tidy everything away here.’

  ‘You are doing very well,’ said Lucy, as she ran lightly down the stairs with her cousin. ‘I never expected you to be quite so busy this soon. Why, we are not yet in May.’

  ‘I know, it is very gratifying.’ They had reached the first landing, and Grace picked up her cloak from the bench and threw it about her shoulders. ‘I never expected business to be so rewarding.’

  ‘You are enjoying yourself?’ Grace’s shining face gave Lucia her answer and she gave her a quick hug. ‘Oh Cousin, I am so happy for you!’

  They were going down the final staircase when they heard the knocker and a solemn voice asking for Lady Quidenham.

  ‘Oh lord,’ muttered Lucy. ‘It is Mr Chawton.’

  Lucia schooled her face into a smile as the gentleman, seeing a movement on the stairs, spotted her.

  ‘Ah, Miss Luckington!’ He stopped. ‘You are g
oing out, perhaps?’

  ‘No, no. Do come up, sir. Lady Quidenham is in the morning room, I will take you to her.’

  She said goodbye to Grace and waited at the bottom of the stairs for Mr Chawton, who was handing his hat and cane to the waiting footman. He set off across the hall but stopped when Grace, hurrying in the other direction, dropped one of her gloves.

  ‘Allow me, ma’am.’

  He scooped it up, smiling and handed it to Grace, who thanked him prettily in her soft, shy way. He nodded, then walked on towards Lucia.

  ‘I hope I have not driven away your young friend, Miss Luckington?’

  ‘Miss Bower is a modiste, sir,’ she told him, seizing the opportunity to increase Grace’s renown. ‘She has premises in Orchard Street.’

  ‘Indeed?’ He glanced back over his shoulder and watched Grace slip out of the door before following Lucy up to the morning room.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It was a clear and sunny May morning, with no more than a light breeze. Excellent riding weather, thought Lucia as Betty helped her into her riding habit. She fastened the jacket and smoothed her hands down over the soft wool. Excitement rippled through her, tinged with anxiety. She loved riding but had not been on a horse for a long time, and could only hope that she had not lost her skill.

  It had been agreed that Miss Claversham’s groom would bring the grey mare to Portman Square and then escort Lucia to join the others at Grafton Street, from where they would ride on to the village of Kensington and stop for refreshments at the tea gardens.

  When she stepped out of the house, Lucia was surprised to discover that her escort was not Verity’s groom, but her brother.

  ‘Sir Darius! Is something amiss, is our outing cancelled?’

  ‘No, no, nothing like that.’ He jumped easily down from the glossy bay hunter and handed the reins to the groom riding behind him. ‘I am afraid the rest of the party is a little delayed. I said I would come on and meet you.’

  ‘Of course. Why else would you have brought the grey?’ She moved over towards the mare and put out one hand to rub the velvety nose. ‘So, this is Juno. She is beautiful.’

  ‘Fast, too, despite her size.’

  She laughed. ‘I have often wished I was taller, like the willowy models in the fashion plates, but now I am glad I am not.’

  She flushed, hoping he would not think she was fishing for a compliment. He said nothing, however, but checked the mare’s saddle before turning to Lucia.

  ‘She will stand while I throw you up.’ He noted her hesitation and added, ‘Lewis, my groom can do it if you prefer.’

  ‘But he is looking after your own horse,’ she replied, ever practical. She added, with false sweetness, ‘I am sure you are perfectly capable.’

  The look he threw at her made Lucy giggle, but it relieved the tension of the moment. She allowed him to help her to mount and watched in silence while he adjusted girth and stirrup.

  ‘There, you’ll do.’ He patted the mare’s neck. ‘She is very fresh. Do you think you can handle her?’

  ‘I believe so.’ She shook out her skirts more decorously and gathered up the reins. ‘I am not a novice, Sir Darius.’

  ‘But you are not used to busy streets,’ he countered. He remounted and brought the great horse round beside her. ‘Keep close to me. Brutus is an old hand at dealing with London traffic.’

  They set off and for the first few minutes Lucy concentrated on gaining mastery of her spirited mount and negotiating the numerous carts, waggons and carriages that thronged the streets. Having assured her companion she could ride she was determined not to allow the mare to get the better of her.

  When they reached Oxford Street and Sir Darius turned to the right, she glanced up at him.

  ‘Are we not meeting everyone at Grafton Street?’

  ‘No. We will cut through the park and wait for them at the Hyde Park Turnpike.’

  The park was quiet at that time in the morning and Lucia was able to relax a little. After a short canter she felt even better.

  ‘Well, that relieves my mind of one worry,’ remarked Sir Darius, as they returned to a walk. ‘At least you can ride.’

  She felt a sting of indignation but he was grinning down at her and instead of retorting sharply, she laughed back at him.

  ‘Fie upon you for doubting it!’

  ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Luckington. I confess I am impressed. A strange horse and saddle, but you look perfectly at home.’

  ‘Thank you. I hope we can find some open ground where we might enjoy a gallop.’

  ‘There is a stretch of heath beyond Knights Bridge. It is slightly out of our way, but we can gallop there.’

  They rode on in perfect harmony and when they reached the turnpike they had only a few moments to wait before the others joined them. Verity and Mr Garwood were leading the way with Miss Garwood and another gentleman following. As they drew nearer Lucia recognised Lord Applecross.

  ‘I had no notion you were joining us, Tommy!’

  His lordship was in no wise put out by Sir Darius’s less than welcoming tone.

  ‘I remembered hearing you were riding today and begged Garwood to let me join the party.’ He grinned as he touched his hat to Lucia in greeting. ‘Three men, three ladies. Evens things up nicely, what?’

  Lucia thought she was the only one to hear Sir Darius growl as the party rearranged itself and set off again. She found herself riding beside Verity on her glossy chestnut gelding while Sir Darius rode ahead with Gerald Garwood. He was no longer scowling, but the cheerful look had disappeared and she wondered if perhaps he had a tendre for Mary Garwood, who was still riding beside Lord Applecross and chatting happily with him. Yet when the party rearranged itself again and Lord Applecross brought his showy black horse alongside Lucia, Sir Darius chose to remain beside Mr Garwood. Neither Verity nor Mary seemed to mind the arrangement and were busy talking as they made their way towards the village of Kensington.

  Everything was new to Lucia and she tried to take in as much as she could, noting the long wall of the park on their right, separated from the road by numerous old buildings in various states of repair. Eventually she was obliged to apologise to Lord Applecross for not listening to him.

  ‘I beg your pardon for not attending,’ she confided with a smile. ‘I have never been this way before, you see.’

  Her companion was not in the least offended, and obliged her by pointing out objects of interest, such as the brewery with a cannon on its roof and the Horse Guards’ barracks, almost opposite. The buildings became more sparse, replaced by long open stretches of cultivation, nurseries and market gardens. There was very little traffic and no need for them to ride in pairs, and it was Sir Darius who drew Lucia’s attention to a fine mansion set back on the south side of the road.

  ‘Gore House,’ he told her. ‘The home of the abolitionist Mr Wilberforce. And that lane ahead will take us to the open ground I mentioned, Miss Luckington, where we may enjoy a gallop.’

  His announcement drew an immediate and enthusiastic response from Verity. She patted the glossy neck of her own mount, saying, ‘I have often wondered if Firefly is a match for Juno. What do you say, Lucia, shall we race them?’

  ‘Over rough heathland?’ cried Mary, alarmed, ‘You will surely come to grief.’

  ‘It is not all rough land,’ her brother assured her. ‘The track up to the woods is smooth enough.’

  ‘A race, by Gad!’ Lord Applecross gave a whoop. ‘I’m up for it. Not that it will be much of a contest against Claversham’s Brutus.’

  ‘It will be no contest at all,’ put in Sir Darius, bending a frown upon his sister. ‘Try their paces, by all means, but if I find you racing neck and neck with Miss Luckington, Verity, you will not ride again this season.’

  Miss Claversham pouted, and looked as if she might challenge him.

  Lucia said quickly, ‘Your brother is right, Verity. Let us enjoy a gallop but save an out-and-out contest for another day.’ She
added, when she thought Verity might argue, ‘It is my first time upon your beautiful grey. It would hardly be a fair contest.’

  ‘No, you are right,’ Verity conceded at last. ‘A gallop then, and we shall compare these horses when you come to Claversham.’ She set off towards the track, throwing one last, saucy look at her brother as she went. ‘And it is useless to tell me Mama will never allow that, Darius. I shall look to you to persuade her!’

  Lucia noted the sudden tightening of Sir Darius’s mouth and she shook her head at him, saying quietly, ‘Lady Claversham cannot look favourably upon me if she thinks I am going to cut you out of my great-aunt’s will. I have no expectation of being included in any house party.’

  She kicked her horse on, desperate to get away from him, to forget the gossip and suspicions that she knew surrounded her.

  Despite her size, the mare was nimble and very fast. When Lucia put her to the gallop she flew over the rough ground and was soon catching up with Verity. She held back, not wishing to tempt Verity to a race, and was happy to enjoy the exhilaration of the gallop, seeing the ground rush past, feeling the cool spring air on her cheeks. Her spirits lifted. She felt good and she wished Grace might see what a dramatic image she made, with the skirts billowing around her, blood red against the silver white coat of the mare.

  There were still a hundred yards or so of grassy track ahead, before it disappeared into a small copse and Lucy could not resist. She gave the little mare her head and they shot past Verity, whose larger, heavier mount was tiring.

  Verity’s laughing cry of ‘Unfair, Lucia!’ followed her, but she did not draw rein. She could hear the thunder of other hoofs behind her and a slight turn of her head showed her Sir Darius’s bay coming up fast. They plunged into the shadow of the copse, where the grassy lane changed to a leaf-strewn cart-track winding through the trees. She knew she must pull up soon, but before she could act the bay was alongside and Sir Darius stretched across to catch her rein. She gave a cry of outrage but was obliged to concentrate on maintaining her seat as the mare bucked in protest at the new hand on her bridle.