Authors: Helen Dickson
‘About a week. But the captain—’
‘Arrange for me to be on it,’ she interrupted sharply, determined she would leave with the ship even if she had to stow away. ‘It’s the least you can do. Carmelita must be disappointed with the way things have turned out. She will have no objections to my leaving the island.’
* * *
Shona was right. Carmelita was beside herself with fury that Captain Fitzgerald had outwitted them. But she was not to be deterred. She had every intention of seeing Shona off the island for good.
* * *
When Shona was ready to board the ship, Antony’s unwavering gaze bore into her. ‘You are determined to stand by your decision to go after him?’
‘Yes, Antony, I am.’
He stood unflinching. Every trace of emotion drained from his face. When he spoke his voice was as cold and devoid of feeling as a wind blowing through an empty house. ‘Very well, then. Follow him if you must.’
Shona forced herself to stand straight, having to force down the hard lump that had appeared in her throat. ‘Antony, I didn’t want it this way. Won’t you please—’
‘The decision is your own, Shona. Freely made. There is nothing more to be said.’
And there wasn’t. Shona’s mind was made up.
London
Shona renewed her passion for London the moment she left the ship. They had arrived at the height of the Season. As the hired carriage drove away from the docks and headed towards Mayfair and Aunt Augusta’s town house, the atmosphere of gaiety was entrancing. On reaching the Strand the streets were so overcrowded that their carriage was forced to slow almost to a halt. Shona stared out of the window. Shopkeepers shouted the excellence of their goods. Pedlars and street vendors praised their wares, vying with each other to attract customers. Not only the noise, but smells invaded the carriage—mouth-watering aromas of freshly baked bread, pies and cakes.
‘Do you intend to stay in London, Thomas?’
‘Only for a short time. I must return to my parish in Berkshire. But don’t worry. My mother will be happy for you to stay with her for the time being—until things are sorted out between you and Captain Fitzgerald. As you are aware, Shona, both my parents led rather unconventional lifestyles. My brothers and I accepted the fact that they were living their lives as they wanted, even though they were frowned on by society in general. You will soon grow accustomed to Mother’s ways.’
Shona was silent for a moment as she considered this statement. Antony had not been so generous and had condemned their aunt for her wayward behaviour after the death of her husband, which was why, considering her unfit company for a respectably reared young woman, he had been unwilling for his sister to come to England and for Aunt Augusta to act as her chaperon.
* * *
They entered the fine house in Upper Brook Street to find Thomas’s mother reclining on a
chaise longue.
Her abundant deep red hair streaked with grey was confined loosely by a red satin ribbon that matched her velvet robe richly embroidered in gold thread. It was open to the waist to reveal a frilled and ruffled gown. There were the inevitable lines of age on her face and her cheeks owed some of their glow to the rouge pot, but there was no denying that Augusta Franklyn was still a handsome woman.
On seeing her son, she rose to her feet in one sinuous movement to glide across the carpet with her arms outstretched and her garments flowing around her in a diaphanous cloud.
‘My darling boy! Here you are at last— And Shona! What a lovely surprise.’
Before Shona could react, after Augusta embraced her son she clasped Shona in a fond embrace and a cloud of expensive perfume heavy with musk.
‘Aunt Augusta,’ she murmured, at a loss for anything better to say. She liked her aunt and always felt comfortable with her. She could understand how her garish clothes and forceful personality might be forgiven when she gave so generously of the warmth of her personality.
Augusta held her at arm’s length, gazing at her fondly. ‘Why, look at you! How you’ve grown. You’re no longer the skinny schoolgirl who used to come and visit me during your holidays. I can see you are going to turn heads here in London. It was mean of your brother not to let you come to me before, foolishly accusing me of being a bad influence on one so young. It would seem he’s had a change of heart and we are going to have such fun.’
‘Don’t be too hasty, Mother,’ Thomas remarked, making himself comfortable in a large armchair. ‘Our darling Shona is now a married woman. For reasons which are...complicated—we will explain later—she is here to become reunited with her husband.’
Augusta expressed both her surprise and delight, insisting on knowing the identity of the gentleman. On being told she shook her head. The name was not unknown to her, but she was not acquainted with the family. ‘But don’t worry,’ she enthused, drawing Shona down beside her on to the
chaise longue,
‘I shall find out. And you, Thomas? I do hope you’re not going to go tearing off to Berkshire without spending time with me. I was so upset when you sailed off to Virginia like that. I missed you so much.’
‘Really, Mother, I don’t recall you being too upset at the time.’
‘Darling, don’t be horrid. Of course I was upset. A mother’s heart is a delicate thing and easily bruised, if not broken, when her children leave home. With your older brother and his wife in the country at Ferndene and Alex and his family in Northumberland, as the youngest I hated the thought of you being so far away. I suffered in silence.’
‘My dearest mama, you never do anything in silence,’ Thomas said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. ‘I have no doubt you buried your sorrows in a continuous round of fashionable soirées with your innumerable friends. You are much in demand wherever you go.’
Augusta laughed happily and gave her son a coquettish smile, reminiscent of a schoolgirl, Shona thought. ‘I confess they did help—as always. But you are a naughty boy for teasing your mama. Your brothers were always such serious boys, but you, like your dear father, have a wonderful capacity for fun and always make me laugh. It’s such a pity you were denied your ambition to go on the stage, but your father refused to countenance such an ignoble profession for any of his sons. You’ve had plenty of time to consider what we discussed before you left for Virginia. What have you decided? Will you leave the church?’
Having no inclination that Thomas was even considering taking such a huge step, Shona stared at him in amazement. ‘Thomas, you can’t,’ she gasped. ‘Please don’t. I can’t bear to think you will go to such extremes.’
‘I have to,’ Thomas said calmly. ‘My heart isn’t in it. I’ve been thinking about leaving for some time, which was one of the reasons why I went to Virginia. I discussed my intentions with Mother before I left England. She is in agreement.’
Shona looked at her aunt, who nodded and smiled. ‘Thomas is right. If that is what he wants, then he has my full support. He never wanted to enter the church in the first place, but as the youngest son and with his head on more frivolous pursuits at the time, his father believed it would be good for him. I was not in agreement, but even though I voiced my objections most forcefully, they went unheeded.’
‘But—Thomas! What will you do?’ Shona asked.
‘When I’ve settled everything here, I intend to return to Virginia. I loved it there and I have friends—and employment with a shipping company if I want it.’
‘You will have to consider it carefully, Thomas. Now ring for Standish and order him to bring some champagne. We must celebrate our reunion in style.’
‘Anything you say, Mother, although I think Shona might prefer tea,’ Thomas said, getting up to reach for the bell pull and winking at Shona.
‘And you, my dear,’ August said, gently tapping Shona’s arm, ‘must tell me all about this husband of yours. I insist. Is he handsome?’
‘Yes, he is.’ Shona laughed. ‘Very.’
‘Well, that’s a start, I suppose.’
Augusta was intrigued to hear the facts of Shona’s marriage to Zachariah Fitzgerald and was determined to play an important part in bringing them together. ‘There is a grand charity event at the Earl and Countess of Whitchester’s town house in Piccadilly in two weeks. It will be accompanied by a masquerade ball with an elaborate fireworks display to honour the occasion. It promises to be a jolly affair, where ladies will bid to spend some time in the company of unattached gentlemen. Everyone who is anyone will be there. If your husband is in London, my dear, I think you can guarantee he will be among the guests.
‘But you must have a care. Everyone will be watching you to see what you are made of. I’m sure some of them will be happy for a new charming young lady to arrive on the scene, but you must remember that there are some who will be only too happy to see you fail in society. Your age, your wealth, the fact that you are practically a foreigner will make you conspicuous, not to mention your rank—you must remember you are Lady Harcourt, a title passed on to your husband from his mother’s side. Just take care you get yourself noticed for the right reasons.’
Shona grimaced at the thought, but she understood her aunt’s point.
‘But that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun.’ Augusta chuckled and Shona listened in rapt amazement as she related some of her madcap antics at masque balls in the early years of her marriage.
* * *
The night of the masquerade ball found Zack travelling alone in his long, jet-black town coach drawn by four fierce black horses, tossing their heads and snorting at the speed as they plunged through narrow streets. Lamp posts cast glowing orbs of light over the gilt trim of the coach.
Inside the coach Zack took a long drag of his cheroot and slowly blew the smoke out of the open window. Since his arrival back in London, it felt like a different world, his own place in it unclear since his meeting with Caroline. He was in a sombre mood. Subtle doubts tugged at him tonight.
Things weren’t working out as planned. In his absence Caroline’s husband, Lord Donnington, had died without issue. Having condemned his wife for her indiscretion and the shame of bearing a bastard daughter, he had left his entire estate to a distant much younger cousin, Lord Robert Byrne. Zack wanted Caroline to know that he was willing to take responsibility for his daughter and for her. But it would appear that Caroline—who Zack had discovered was more mercenary than he’d realised when it came to ambition—and Lord Byrne had begun an affair. In the hope of resuming her position as mistress of her late husband’s country mansion, Caroline was hankering after a proposal of marriage. In the event that no such proposal was forthcoming, she had not ruled out Zack as a prospective husband.
Zack could still feel the anger and every second of his helpless fury when she had told him on his return that when her husband had refused to look at the result of his wife’s indiscretion in his house, she’d had no choice but to place their daughter in the care of a foster mother. There the child remained, for it would seem that Robert Byrne was of the same opinion as her husband had been.
Zack was outraged at being placed in an impossible situation—that because of his commitment to their daughter, Caroline was assured of his dependability.
Profoundly disappointed and incensed by her attitude and the fact that Caroline was treating the situation in a casual manner, he was not looking forward to the evening ahead. Caroline had been invited to the ball—fortunately without her lover—and if he hoped to win his daughter, he would have to resort to the humiliating position of dancing attendance on a woman who was playing him for a fool.
He brushed off his dark musing as his coach slowed, reaching its destination. Stepping down, he flicked away his spent cheroot and smoothed his coat and strode up the steps into the brilliance of the mansion’s interior.
* * *
Shona was excited as she prepared for the masquerade ball. Aunt Augusta had made discreet enquires and it was confirmed that Zack had been invited and had accepted the invitation. She stood in a dazzling pool of candlelight, surrounded by maids, a constant buzz of talk around her. She was being dressed for the ball and they were lacing up her stays. Her hair had been elegantly
coiffured
for the occasion, a white gardenia caught up with ribbons of silver tulle among the crown of glossy gold ringlets piled high on her head. A gown of ivory silk was laid out, its skirt frosted with intricate silver lace. Shona raised her hands so the maids could slip on her petticoats. By the time she was ready for the gown itself, she was beginning to weary of the preparations.
Her hands were clad in long white gloves. The silk gown rustled softly as she made a slow turn in front of the cheval mirror. She lingered a moment before the glass, enjoying her own radiant reflection enhanced by the soft candlelight. Her green eyes were sparkling and there was a moist sheen on her lips. The silver lace sparkled. Morag was looking out for any imperfections—a loose thread, an unfastened hook. Shona smiled at herself in the glass. Never, she thought, as a maid draped an ermine-lined cloak over her shoulders, had she looked so fine.
* * *
A little before ten when Shona and her aunt arrived at Whitchester House the party had already begun. The house was lit up from the basement to the handsome roof. The courtyard and the street had been filled for some time with the rattle of carriages and the jingle of harness, accompanied by the shouts of coachmen and lackeys, almost drowning the strains of violins coming from the house.
Stepping down from the carriage, Shona turned and looked at her aunt and caught her breath in a gasp of pure admiration. Her lissom figure struck a dramatic pose against the fine house. With her elaborately arranged hair and vast array of sparkling jewels, she positively dazzled, which, combined with her flamboyance, all added to her striking personality and suggested that she was a woman with many aspects to her character.
She smiled. ‘You look wonderful, Aunt Augusta. You certainly know how to make an entrance.’
Accepting the compliment with a short laugh and taking her niece’s arm, she led her up the wide flight of stone steps. ‘We both do, my dear. Come. I’m so looking forward to tonight.’