Loving Lucy (18 page)

Gently he withdrew her arms a little and looked at her face. He drew a thumb under one eye. It came away wet. “Fool.” he said tenderly. “Didn’t you think I meant it?”

“I don’t know. I suppose it’s all been so confusing over the last few days. To be turned from such misery to such happiness - I think it might take me some time to get used to it.”

“I shall just have to keep on saying it until you do get used to it, then - I love you Lucy.”

“I love you too, Philip.” They lost a little time then.

Eventually he drew back. “But we must go. They’re expecting us.”

When Philip paid their shot at the inn Lucy thought the landlady eyed her with suspicion, but she couldn’t be sure. To be certain they couldn’t be traced from the King’s Arms Philip insisted they took one hackney to the nearby White Hart, dismissed it, and took another to their ultimate destination. Lucy was concerned when she saw they were travelling back in the direction of the
West End
, but relieved when they turned north. All the time she had her hand in Philip’s feeling his warmth. “They live in
Red Lion Square
,” he told her.

Not an address her mother would approve of, Lucy thought with relief. Perfectly respectable, but so far on the edge of the fashionable world it had long ago tipped over into the residence of City folk.

Red Lion Square
was near
Bloomsbury
, and still boasted its private park in the centre, for which only residents held the key. Lucy looked around at the quiet square, the sounds of the city echoing beyond it, only the occasional horse and carriage disturbing its peace. Of course, mid afternoon was a busy time in her part of the city, visiting hours and time for shopping before returning to dress for dinner. She noticed it was nearly four o’clock when she consulted her new pocket-watch.

She gripped Philip’s hand once more before she released it so he could help her down. As they alighted from the hackney, the door to the house was opened from the inside. The hall beyond looked dark after the bright spring sunshine. Lucy glanced at Philip to see his reassuring smile and then they went up the shallow step, across the small portico that stretched over the area below and into the house.

There was a butler, and a lady, evidently the lady of the house, for she was dressed richly in a fashionable afternoon gown. Philip introduced them. “Mrs. Carmichael - Miss Moore.” Lucy bobbed her head in a small curtsey. She made it a little deeper than her first instincts told her, and when she looked up, she saw Mrs. Carmichael was smiling.

Mrs. Carmichael was a short woman, with pale blue eyes and dark
Moore
hair drawn back into a knot at the back of her head. She wore a gown of dark red silk, very fine, and a slim gold chain adorned her neck. Lucy sighed with relief. So much for the vulgar Cit of her imagination. The gown was perhaps a little too fine for the afternoon indoors, but the lady was the wife of a mercer - surely she was allowed to display the source of her husband’s wealth? “Delighted to meet you, Miss Moore,” she said, her voice bearing not a trace of the
London
twang. “I’m glad you could come and stay with us.”

Lucy smiled at her. “I’m so grateful you could have me. When my Mama said she would go no further at
St. Albans
, I thought I would have to return with her, but she insisted I try to come. Lord Royston was so kind to arrange this.”

“Yes indeed,” said Mrs. Carmichael. It was easy to see that she was assessing Lucy as she stood in the neat black and white tiled hall, and Lucy wondered what exactly she was looking for. Respectability? She was glad of her plain gown and hat.

A servant, a butler by the look of him, came forward and took her cloak, hat and gloves. Mrs. Carmichael studied Lucy again, seemed satisfied with what she saw for her smile was a warm one. “Is your aunt ill often?”

“Oh yes.” said Lucy. “Not really ill, if you know what I mean, but my Mama didn’t want to take the chance. She took the maid, and Lord Royston kindly sent his own chaise for me. I’m so grateful for this.”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Carmichael. She shot a suspicious glance at his lordship, but his smile was bland and ordinary. “Do come upstairs and meet my daughters. My husband and son are out, but will be back for dinner.”

They went upstairs and into a comfortable, well used drawing room. Lucy, who was used to the frequent changes necessitated by high fashion in such a room, was amused to see the favourite items, sadly out of date, still taking their place there. The clock standing on the mantelpiece in front of the mirror would have been castigated by her mother as sadly out of the mode, containing as it did several pottery cherubs such as were all the rage a generation ago. The mahogany furniture was good, but not desperately fashionable and upholstered in a practical dark green. Lucy thought it looked comfortable.

Ranged about the room in chairs and sofas sat the daughters of the house. One by one they stood up to be introduced to Lucy, and she could assess them. Christina, the eldest girl looked to be in her mid twenties. She was possessed of kind brown eyes and a determined, slightly square chin. Her most prominent feature was her magnificent bosom, which the current fashion for high waisted gowns only served to emphasise. Her curly brown hair was cut fashionably short and arranged with a simple red ribbon. She shook hands firmly and Lucy responded to her sweet smile. “This must all be very confusing for you,” she said, in a surprisingly light voice. “I hope you’ll be content here.”

“I feel like a vagabond, arriving here without maid or footman.” Lucy confessed. “But my Mama was forced to take our maid home with her.”

“I’m sure we’ll be able to sort something out,” said Miss Christina. Looking at her Lucy was sure too. Miss Christina had the look of the practical.

Janet was the next girl in age, not much younger than her sister, by her looks. Her face was round, and her chin doubled, but she wore her plump figure well, and didn’t try to hide it. Faced with another magnificent bosom, Lucy began to feel quite inadequate, but was relieved to be confronted by one a little less ample in the next daughter.

When Lucy looked into Miss Frances Carmichael’s face, she saw the face of true beauty. An oval shaped face was becomingly framed by blonde hair, and blue eyes looked guilelessly in to hers. Taken aback, she gasped, “My word. You’re so beautiful.” and then, overcome with shame at making such an indelicate remark on first meeting she stammered; “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean - “

Miss Christina interrupted her. “No matter,” she said briskly, “
Frances
often takes people like that. She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Miss
Frances
didn’t hang her head, but she blushed, and smiled in a self deprecating way. “It’s nothing I can help,” she confessed.

“I would be proud,” Lucy said. She had come this far, and they didn’t seem to mind. “Have you ever tried to go into society?”

Mrs. Carmichael sniffed. “Us, get vouchers for Almack’s? We do move on the edge from time to time, thanks to his lordship here, but I think we’re too close to the shop floor for some people.”

“She’ll get the vouchers when she’s a duchess,” said Philip. He glanced at Lucy, amused at her stunned reaction to the dazzling sight his cousin presented. “I can’t understand why every man who sees you doesn’t fall in love with you,” she said.

“Many do,” said Miss
Frances
. “But they don’t really mean it. They only think they do. It’s very difficult to discover if they mean it or if they just want to look at me.”

“Just like being an heiress,” Lucy said. The similarity had never occurred to her before. An overabundance of anything could lead to misunderstandings.

“Are you an heiress?” asked Miss
Frances
, totally disingenuously.

Lucy laughed. “Goodness me no. If I was I would have hired a house in the
West End
and a fleet of servants, instead of imposing on your kind hospitality.” she smiled, relieved to see their sympathetic smiles back to her. “But I think I might enjoy it more here. It might be quite lonely to have no one but paid help about one.” It had happened to her as a child, so she knew only too well how that felt.

Miss
Frances
smiled and resumed her seat, to make way for the youngest of the
Carmichael
brood, Miss Millicent. This damsel was evidently not long out of the schoolroom, and shared her colouring with her next sister in age, but she was not as lovely. Her face was round, and her blue eyes nearer to
Moore
than the heavenly tinge in the eyes of her sister, but she was pretty, and if she learned not to simper, she would do well in her particular marriage market.

Mrs. Carmichael invited Lucy to take a seat, so she sat next to the youngest Miss Carmichael on a sofa. Philip made his bow and then sat on a chair where he could see Lucy without seeming to watch her. “I’m sorry you find us a little unprepared for you, Miss Moore,” said Mrs. Carmichael, “But as you will appreciate, you visit is with very short notice.”

“Yes. Of course. That is, if it causes you any inconvenience at all, I’ll go at once.” Lucy offered.

“Not at all, Miss Moore, it’s a pleasure to have you staying with us. Perhaps my girls may amuse themselves showing you something of use, instead of all the frippery places they tend to frequent. Would you like to see the
Tower
of
London
, Miss Moore?”

Lucy hastened to assure her that she would love to see the Tower, and any other places of interest that might occur to them. Anything that kept her away from the haunts of the fashionable world would be welcome. She began to doubt that they could pull this off. It seemed so easy when they were planning it, in the little world they had created for themselves in the King’s Arms but here, in the greater world outside, Lucy began to see the faults in the plan. She was bound to come into contact with someone who knew her. She glanced at Philip but he didn’t seem to be looking at her, gazing at Mrs. Carmichael as she outlined her plans for Lucy’s visit. “Indeed,” she was saying, “I think I may accompany you myself. It’s been so long since I’ve seen the Tower, or the Academy, I think I might like to see them again.”

“I find I have some time in hand myself,” Philip said. “May I come with you sometimes?”

The youngest Miss Moore simpered, but Mrs. Carmichael said; “And your friend Lord Wenlock?”

“Oh Edward loves nothing better.” said Philip disingenuously. Mrs. Carmichael nodded and smiled in a knowing way.

A maid came in with a tray of tea-things. This ritual was the same as at home, with the maid setting up a table for Mrs. Carmichael, and leaving her with the makings of the tea, in pretty, beautifully decorated boxes. The tea service was a fine silver one, and the china from one of the best makers. Lucy guessed at
Worcester
, but without turning them upside down to se the mark, she couldn’t be sure. She wondered if they were ‘everyday’ cups or ‘company’ cups. They were decorated in bold vertical blue stripes, with light gilding to the handles and rims.

Mrs. Carmichael attended to the tea making practically and without fuss, showing none of the affectations usual in polite society. The girls seemed to be on their best behaviour, probably due to Philip’s magnificence. While he didn’t affect the more fashionable excesses of society, his coats and waistcoats were always beautifully cut and of the finest cloth, and his personal linen without a blemish. He seemed to prefer the example set by poor Mr. Brummel, until so recently the arbiter of fashion, that a gentleman shouldn’t be noticed for his clothes.

Lucy was content to stay silent, and listen to the
Carmichael
’s plans for her. She was pleased to note that apart from shopping, when she would have to be wary, she would not impinge much on her previous haunts. She promised to buy herself a poke bonnet to hide in. She found the constant chatter refreshing and strangely restful. She was asked a question once or twice, but none of them intrusive, and she could lean back for the most part, sip her tea, eat a few slices of bread and butter (very welcome), and listen.

The
Carmichaels
’ world seemed every bit as busy as Lucy’s usual milieu. “We could go to
Vauxhall
Gardens
,” said Miss Millicent. “It’s open soon for the Season.”

“So it is.” exclaimed her mother. Lucy had only once been there, and then her visit had been brief. Vauxhall was considered passé and not the place for a young lady. Many assignations took place there, but perhaps there was more safety in numbers. Certainly, she wouldn’t meet many people who knew her there. “Please,” she said, “Don’t do too much for me. You mustn’t feel you have to do anything special.”

“Oh Miss Moore we’re positively dissipated here, we have so many pleasures.” cried Miss Millicent.

“Indeed there’s so much to see and do in
London
it seems a shame not to take advantage of it,” agreed her elder sister Miss Christina. “It would be a pleasure to take you about, and show you what such a great city has to offer.”

“Thank you,” Lucy said, although she would have much rather waited out her month without too many excursions. “But surely we mustn’t keep Lord Royston away from his friends.” She cast him a sly look.

His smile was bland. “I can’t think of anything I’d like to do more,” he said.