Curricle & Chaise (32 page)

Lydia was horrified.

‘But did my uncle not know of this?’

‘He was told about it but we felt that for my cousin’s sake we should make as little of the affair as possible. I managed to extract a promise of secrecy from your cousin as a condition of returning the pearl necklace that I saw around your neck – he had given it to the poor girl as a token, so he said, of his affection. I recognised it as the same one at once, as its colour was quite unusual. As far as I know no-one else knows anything of the incident, apart from your uncle – and yourself. It is not an incident of which any of us is proud. I tell you, in a way, to justify us both.’

‘Well he will never be able to use the necklace for such nefarious pursuits again,’ she assured him. ‘I regret that it ended up in a pawnbrokers’ shop near
Red Lion Yard
in order to pay my fare – which is probably no more than it deserves! But I thank you truly for what you have told me. I am not blind to the effort it has cost you. It will go no further, I promise you. I am only ashamed that it is my own cousin who has perpetrated all of this.’

‘You have nothing to be ashamed of, my dear. Please, do not say anything more about it.’

Lydia’s dark eyes met his blue ones and she was aware of nothing but him. For perhaps three seconds they sat in this way. Mr Churchman seemed to be penetrating her innermost thoughts. He would be none the wiser. Lydia could actually think of nothing. She only felt the moment. Just as she had in her last encounter with Sir John it was as if she had come out of herself and was watching the scene, calmly,
as it was
enacted before her eyes. It was a moment of pure joy. Then suddenly they realised that the music had stopped. Mr Churchman was up in an instant, applauding Lucy’s performance (of which they had heard absolutely nothing) and encouraging her to perform another song.

Lucy was merciless on the journey home.

‘You are quite a dark horse, Lydia Barrington,’ she complained, watching her as closely as the dark confines of the carriage would allow. ‘You are obviously much better acquainted with Mr Churchman than ever you let on. You cannot deny it. Don’t think that I was unaware of your cosy little tete a tete after supper. I’d wager that you cannot name me one piece that I executed so laboriously all night. No ... I thought not. And what was it you told me about the sort of gentlemen you like – landowner, thoughtful, seriou
s disposition? Do you know,
now I think of it
,
the description fits a certain gentleman of our acquaintance perfectly. And what’s all this about presents of fruit? I cannot imagine that any of it was aimed at
us
. Don’t you try to deny it now. I have found you out at last. I had suspected as much, and now I am certain.’

‘Oh shush, Lucy, please – you are making five out of adding two and two. Mr Churchman hasn’t given me any reason to believe that he thinks me anything out of the ordinary. I really don’t know him all that well – we only met a few times in Middlesex and we seemed to misunderstand each other as often as not...’

Lucy grinned knowingly.

‘Well, as for that, I have never known him to talk to any young lady in quite the way he talks to you and we have never seen so much of him as we have these past few days. I will expect an invitation to Grantham, you know, when you are married. I have never seen it and I am dying to know what it is like.’

Throughout the rest of the journey home and at intervals as she lay awake during the night Lydia relived every detail of her conversation, over and over again. She felt Henry’s closeness to her as they sat together at the window. She heard his words and saw the look that had gone with them. Time had stood still. She could never forget the moment. And then a cold sweat came over her. What if Lucy were correct? What if he really did hold her in regard? What if he were to ask her to marry him – and she, betrothed to Sir John? Was she not, even now, in precisely the position he had thought her in before? And was she not now, even more than before, deceiving both herself and him about the true nature of her situation? A deep despair descended on her. How she wished her letter to Sir John unwritten. He may have received it that very day. But no. It could not be. She now knew that, what ever happened, she could never marry Sir John. It was quite impossible. She would rather stay unmarried all her life, she would rather live from hand to mouth if necessary than try to pretend that she loved him. She must write to Elizabeth that instant and ask if she still held the letter, and ask her to keep it back. Never mind if it were too late and the letter delivered. She would just have to explain as gently as she could that she had changed her mind, and she could not marry him after all. She could only hope that he would understand. But what a mess she had got herself into. She was wretched indeed. It was with a great deal of trouble that she managed to worry herself to sleep at last.

The letter was a difficult one to write. On the one hand she did not want to frighten her aunt if she had already handed over her acceptance to Sir John. On the other hand, she felt so full of Mr Churchman that it was difficult for her to prevent herself from enthusing about her day at Foxwell to the detriment of everything else.

It was done at last, however, and Lydia slipped out to the post office in North Street while Lucy received a visit from Maria James, who was full of curiosity about their day at the castle. She also called in at Mrs Hemmingway’s on the way back and enquired about the progress of her gown. To her great joy the work was sufficiently advanced to warrant a fitting, and the fitting went so well that she was advised to return that very afternoon in order to collect the finished article.

Before they had departed Foxwell Mr Churchman had intimated his intention of attending the assembly at the ‘Old Ship’ hotel that night. The Taylors had already determined on attending. Lydia’s excitement at the prospect was such that although she joined Maria and Lucy in the saloon when she returned she could scarcely concentrate on a word they were saying.  She steadfastly ignored Lucy’s skittish smiles. Of course, her enthusiasm was merely the result of her new spangled gown, which she had determined on wearing that night for the very first time. It was certainly not dependent on Mr Churchman’s appearance there, whatever poor Lucy might surmise. No, certainly not. She should have felt no less happy had Mr Churchman never graced Brighton by his presence at all.

She did not care to analyse her feelings too deeply as she returned to Mrs Hemmingway’s later that afternoon. Yes, the gown was finished. Yes, it should be tried, for sure. The material felt exquisite as she allowed herself to be eased into the slender garment. She wriggled it into shape before turning to examine its effect in the full length mirror in the back of the shop. She had to take a second look at the elegant figure she saw before her. She could scarcely believe it to be herself. The style suited her slim figure
exactly
and the gown fitted to perfection. Even Mrs Hemmingway seemed impressed and secretly decided that
this piece of handiwork
had just guaranteed the future success of her business. Lydia was ecstatic as she returned once more to Madeira Place, the precious garment clasped firmly but carefully under her arm.

It was time to retire to her chamber to prepare for the ball. She and Lucy kept their doors open so that they could run in and out of each other’s rooms to check on progress and
constantly
interfere with the long suffering maid’s attempts to dress them both. Lydia refused to acknowledge any particular reason for this childish behaviour. She was excited about her new gown, that was all. Certainly she had every right to be. It was not every day that she was empowered to indulge herself with new things. And she had never felt as grand as this.

Lucy’s maid was a mistress of her art. She washed Lydia’s hair in borax to soften it and then rubbed in some scented pomade. Then she set about the delicate task of arranging it. In keeping with the simplicity of the gown she deftly teased and turned the dark curls into a simple knot a la greque and adorned them with some fresh flowers of gold. Only after everything else was ready did she allow her excited client to be eased gently into her gown.

Lydia’s happiness was complete when, towards the end of her preparations, Mrs Taylor’s own maid appeared at her door with the gift of a swansdown tippet. It came with a very nice note of grateful thanks for her care of Lucy in Netley, and expressing the wish that she would accept the gift as a reminder of her stay with them in Brighton. What with the excitement, her new clothes and the anticipation, Lydia looked radiant as she entered the saloon just before it was time to leave. She looked so fine that even Mr Taylor (a man of few words, as might be imagined in a house full of women) said how becoming she looked whilst Lucy, when she finally appeared, was in positive raptures over her.

‘My dear Lydia,’ she enthused, getting her to parade up and down like a schoolgirl in her first grown-up dress. ‘You look just like a princess – just the thing. You will leave him breathless, and no mistake. How well that gown suits you. I thought it would, as soon as I saw the material. And your hair - and that lovely tippet – it matches the gown precisely.’

Lydia wisely chose to ignore Lucy’s sly insinuations.

‘I have your mama to thank for that. It certainly is beautiful.’

‘It is no more than you deserve, my dear,’ said Mrs Taylor, firmly. ‘I really don’t know what we could have done if you had not taken Lucy in like that. And here she is, right as rain, and disliking Brighton so much yet not one grumble or word of complaint since you both arrived. I am quite amazed at the difference in her, really I am.’

It was only a short ride to the ‘Old Ship’. Mr Taylor made straight for the card room where he found a group of his acquaintance setting up a rubber, but the three ladies remained in the ballroom while a dance came to a close. Lucy’s hand was immediately claimed by a young gentleman of her acquaintance and Lydia was soon introduced to, and led onto the floor by, a companion of his. Lydia had not expected to find Mr Churchman at the ball much before supper but to her surprise she detected him amongst a large party entering the room well before her first dance was over. Suddenly her partner became tedious. It was impossible for her to concentrate on what he was saying. It felt as though the dance would never end.

End it did, however, and Lydia was pleased to make her excuses and return to where Mrs Taylor was gossiping with a friend. She refused the offer of a second dance, allowing herself to feel somewhat heated from the exertions of the first, and permitted herself a quick peep around the room to see if Mr Churchman was in view. Unfortunately a large group of people decided to choose just that moment to stake a claim to the portion of floor immediately in front of her. Lydia could see nothing, and no-one could see her. By the time she had managed to manoeuvre into a better vantage point she had the mortification of spotting Mr Churchman leading Miss Taylor onto the dance floor and, almost as bad, resigning herself to the position of wallflower instead.

At the end of the dance Lucy returned and sat next to Lydia by the wall.

‘I am quite worn out,’ she declared, breathing heavily and fanning herself. ‘I shall be
very
glad to sit out the next dance – shall you?’

‘I have had that doubtful pleasure already,’ Lydia replied. ‘I confess that I have little taste for the position of wallflower, however tired I might feel.’

Miss Taylor acknowledged the
truth in this
.

‘But you have not lacked for partners,’ continued Lydia, with a smile. ‘I see that Mr Churchman was most anxious to take your hand. You were talking for ever, too, from what I could see. It is only a wonder that you had breath enough to dance at all.’

‘As for that,’ grumbled Lucy, good naturedly, ‘you had as lief have been dancing with him as I. Why, Mr Churchman could talk of nothing but you – it was all
‘
how you had enjoyed yourself at Foxwell, how well Miss Bateman had liked you
’
(nothing about liking
me
, note!),
‘
how genuinely you had appeared to admire the country, how ‘absolutely charming’ you are looking tonight
’
. I knew he would! I had half a mind to excuse myself and allow him to ask you to dance instead. He was totally oblivious to anything I had to say.’

Lydia was mollified, but her composure was to receive a further battering when the gentleman in question came into view from the other end of the room. He had been to get Lucy a lemonade and caught Lydia’s eye as he gave it to her. Lydia caught her breath. Now he was next to her, smiling, regarding her with that particularly intense look that she found totally irresistible.

‘I have come
to claim the dances you refused me
at Christmas,’ he said, in a tone which brooked no denial. He need not have worried. Lydia was in no fit state to deny him anything at all. ‘Unless you have further objections to make I should be delighted if you would do me the honour of completing the next two with me.’

‘I thank you, Mr Churchman. I like to pay my debts. I should be delighted to fulfil my obligations tonight.’

Lydia took his proffered arm and took care not to catch Lucy’s eye as that young lady mischievously breathed the words ‘I told you so’ as they passed her by. She felt radiant in her new dress. He took her hand in a way that made her shiver.