Author: Beverley Oakley
Category: Nonfiction
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“Ah Fanny, what a lovely shade of rose! I have not seen that ensemble before.” Quamby, as always, was quick to notice any new addition to his sister-in-law’s wardrobe, and Fanny smiled in acknowledgement.
Antoinette, as ever, was more absorbed in her own activities. Ignoring her husband’s compliment, she chattered on, continuing the discussion that Fanny and Fenton had interrupted as she said, “Despite all that has occurred between Mr Dalgleish and Mr McAlister, I knew my instincts were on the money when I invited Mr McAlister to be our guest.” She looked smug as she watched Fanny move to a seat opposite. “I know he’s not…well received...but people do love a bit of scandal so they can feel better about their own unblemished lives. And he is very handsome.”
Soon, the guests would arrive en masse for the Grand Christmas Ball and they would all go down to the saloon to greet them.
“Sadly, my dear sister was thinking only of the dangers he presented to her reputation and how that might damage her opportunity for being received at Court,” Antoinette went on, fanning herself and clearly unconscious of the heavy mood between Fanny and Fenton.
Antoinette continued speaking while Fanny rose, too restless to remain listening to her sister’s inanities. She stood in front of the fireplace and tried to puzzle out what should be done as a result of the events of the afternoon.
Having returned late from their walk, she’d seen Lady Conroy to her bedchamber with as much discretion as possible, ordered a sleeping draught for the young woman, and ensured her maid was on hand should she wake distressed.
“Will you be quiet if you have nothing helpful to say!” Fanny snapped at last, swinging round from the fire to fix Antoinette with a baleful stare. “So what if Mr McAlister and Mr Dalgleish are both sporting black eyes. That’s the least of anyone’s problems. Today, Lady Conroy tried to kill herself. Fenton rescued her from the castle battlements just in time and Mr Dalgleish, whom we now know is the villain of the piece—though we’re not sure how he knew what he did—is pressing his suit upon Lizzy. ”
She watched shock steal across Quamby and Antoinette’s faces.
“Yes, the fact that Dalgleish and McAlister have come to fisticuffs is scandalous!” Fanny spoke the obvious. “But that’s the least of it.”
“Indeed! The pair of them are a shameful sight to behold. Why, the villain!”
Fanny was not sure if Antoinette was referring to Mr McAlister or Dalgleish, but she put up her hand to stop her continuing. “Please Antoinette! It’s not helpful to be smug or point fingers or apportion blame.” She huffed out a frustrated breath. “We now just have to decide what we can do for Lady Conroy—”
“And Lizzy,” Antoinette interrupted.
“Of course! Lady Conroy is out of her mind with distress over Lizzy.” Fanny put her fingertips to her eyes. “If what she hints at has substance, and Mr Dalgleish is blackmailing her mother to pressure Lizzy to marry Mr Dalgleish, then Lizzy can’t possibly marry him.”
“And if she doesn’t, Dalgleish will reveal what he knows about Lady Conroy,” interjected Fenton. “Although, if Lizzy does in fact want to marry Dalgleish, it’s simple.”
“But Lady Conroy hinted that Lizzy doesn’t,” said Fanny. “And if that’s the case, we need to find a way to ensure that Lady Conroy’s secret is not revealed by Dalgleish to the detriment of the poor woman’s marriage.”
“Which is hardly happy to begin with.” Fenton sighed. “But how do we manage that?”
“Oh dear—secrets! I know a lot about those.” Antoinette shook her head, and for a moment, the tiniest hint of remorse crossed her face but was gone before Fanny could be sure it was even there. She was about to offer the response her sister’s remark warranted when a knock sounded on the door and the parlourmaid put her head round. “Please ma’am,” she said, looking at Fanny, “but I jest ʼad a message from the ʼostelry who said yer’d wanted to be told of any young gennulmen stayin’ at the ʼouse arrangin’ fer a chaise-and-four.”
Fanny returned a dignified look in response to the others’ raised eyebrows. “Do you imagine I am not alert to what an enterprising fortune hunter might have up his sleeve?” she asked. “And now it would appear I’m right. Someone is eloping.”
A hastily hired chaise-and-four was most definitely a sign of someone in the vicinity planning a long journey—and a four-day trip to the Scottish border was a likely option.
When Fanny had elicited the time the conveyance had been ordered, and the instructions given to the postilions as to where the coach should be waiting, the looks on Fenton and Quamby’s faces were satisfyingly admiring.
“So Antoinette, though both our fortune hunters have hardly distinguished themselves, it would appear your Mr McAlister is acting true to form—just as we all feared.” Fanny ran her palms down her rose-pink lutestring skirts and regarded her audience. “Tonight, he will shame or ruin some innocent young lady who doesn’t know better while bringing this establishment into disrepute. They’re headed for Gretna Green, mark my words.”
“It is not certain it’s Mr McAlister though, is it?” said Antoinette. “No name was given, and no description fits.”
“Who else could it be?” asked Fanny.
“After what you’ve just told us about Mr Dalgleish,” said Antoinette, “it would hardly be such a terrible thing if Mr McAlister did whisk Lizzy away.”
Fanny thought a moment, adding cautiously, “Lady Conroy did say that Lizzy was in love with Mr McAlister though Lizzy came here with the expectation of a marriage proposal from Mr Dalgleish. She has, however, been seen equally in the company of both young men, though it appears she is not in charity with Mr Dalgleish right now. And they did both fight over her, it would appear.”
“As long as Miss Harcourt is safe,” Quamby muttered, leaning back in his chair. “You are keeping a close eye on her, aren’t you?” He speared Fanny with a quelling look and Fanny put up her hands and glanced at Antoinette, though Antoinette was hardly up to the task of safeguarding the morals and reputation of any young lady who might be contemplating elopement.
“Miss Harcourt is very safe; I’m sure,” Fanny reassured him, feeling far from reassured, herself. “As we know, she and Mr McAlister had a falling out during last night’s ball.”
“Which means they are the pair who are leaving us tonight!” Antoinette declared, having obviously thought the matter through for a full second and a half. “It was pure play-acting. I could see it for what it was, and it convinced me something was in the wind. And now I see I’m right!”
“Then why did you say nothing until now, dearest?” There was acid in Quamby’s tone. “Lord Leighton is my friend—or rather, his sponsor is, as well as being Miss Harcourt’s uncle. She has been his ward since she was a child, and she is betrothed to Lord Leighton. I am honour-bound to see to her welfare while she is under our roof. I invited her here at Lord Leighton’s behest so that she would be safe until he arrived back from the Continent. And now you tell me she’s going to elope with someone else? With Mr McAlister? After what happened to her sister?”
Fanny understood Quamby’s agitation. “But what if Miss Harcourt doesn’t want to marry Lord Leighton?” she asked.
“I hardly think that marrying a bounder like McAlister is the solution!” Lord Quamby countered. “He has not a feather to fly with and a tarred reputation, and hers will be in tatters in consequence.”
Fenton entered the fray, challenging Quamby when he asked, “So, as long as Theo McAlister doesn’t run off with Miss Harcourt, you’ll consider this house party a success?” With eyebrows still raised, he fixed Fanny with his next question. “And as long as McAlister doesn’t run off with Lizzy, you’ll be happy? But what of Lady Conroy’s allegations?”
“Really, Fenton!” Fanny was truly annoyed. “Lizzy mustn’t marry Harry Dalgleish after what we’ve heard this afternoon. But I hardly think Mr McAlister is suitable either. She’s young. She’ll find someone else.”
“However, in all likeli
hood, and out of all our guests here tonight,” Fenton went on, “one of these gentlemen is planning to whisk one of these ladies off to Gretna Green—”
Antoinette clapped her hands. “It’s so romantic! Quamby, I wish you’d been so romantic as to whisk me off—”
“Please. Stop!” Fanny cried, putting her hands to her ears for a moment as she glared at her sister. “It’s not romantic at all. It’s terrible! It’s shameful!”
“Well, only if it happens under our roof,” Fenton added with faint cynicism. He sighed. “Though I do concede we need to ensure that it doesn’t happen.”
“Who could it be?” Fanny asked, puzzling it out before answering her own question. “Mr Dalgleish? He has Mrs Hodge’s endorsement, but if Lizzy doesn’t want to marry him, he may be prepared to go to any lengths.”
“But McAlister is more desperate even,” Antoinette piped up excitedly. “He’s handsome and bold and brave and madly in love!”
“But is his love returned?” Fanny asked. “And is it Lizzy? Perhaps it’s plain, dumpy Miss Harcourt?”
“She’s hardly plain and dumpy,” Fenton countered, “though she doesn’t have Lizzy’s vibrancy, I’ll admit.”
“But she has lots of money.” Fanny felt miserable just thinking of it. “And she’s nearly twenty-one. I believe those are the terms of her inheritance? Like Lizzy, she’ll come into her fortune, independently, if she’s not married by then.”
“So why would she want to elope with penniless Mr McAlister if she only needs to wait a few months until the money is hers to do with what she likes?” asked Fenton.
Quamby interjected with more than usual vehemence. “He’s doing no less than he did with the girl’s sister. He plans to kidnap her by force! By God, we must stop him!”
Antoinette rose. “This is all very exciting though quite vexing since we don’t know who it is, but I’m sure you gentlemen will put a stop to anything havey-cavey occurring tonight and we can all discuss it over breakfast. In the meantime, someone should go down to greet the guests.”
“Yes, I think we should all go.” Fanny nodded reluctantly, though she also wondered how genuine her sister’s insouciant air really was. It was out of character for Antoinette not to throw herself into the thick of anything that smacked of drama or romance. She took her husband’s arm and went to the door. “And one of us must ensure that coach-and-four doesn’t depart this evening bearing Mr McAlister or Mr Dalgleish and some unfortunate heiress from our midst.”
“For then you’ll never get your court invitation, will you, dearest?” Antoinette asked with a wicked gleam in her eye.
Fanny shook her head. “No, I won’t. But even if you don’t believe it, I actually am more motivated by genuine concern for our fortune hunter’s unfortunate companion than I am for an invitation to Court.”
Chapter 25
“Please miss, will yer stand up so I can put yer dress on.”
Lizzy barely registered Mabel’s frustration, but she stood up obediently; her eyes all the while focused on the darkness through the chink in the curtains. That was what her future held—darkness.
But what could she expect? She had been led like a foolish greenhorn to a place where she’d be with a gentleman, alone. And that’s what happened to impulsive, impetuous, rash young ladies like herself. They got their comeuppance, and they got what they deserved. Mrs Hodge had been drumming it into her head all evening.
“Miss, are yer all right?”
She heard the anxiety in Mabel’s voice and managed to nod vaguely.
“You mustn’t pay any mind ter wot anybody says—truly, miss. ‘Tis wot’s in yer ʼeart wot’s important.” Mabel put her hands on Lizzy’s waist so she could turn her in order to do up the buttons on the back of her dress.
This was the grandest ballgown Lizzy had ever owned, but the pleasure she’d initially felt in the pale-pink lutestring gown with its heavily embroidered lower skirt and sleeves and the fine lace trimming at the hem, had evaporated.
In her heart, she’d regarded it as the gown that signified her greatest triumph and the pinnacle of all things pleasurable in her life.
Now she knew that forevermore it would be associated with the night she hitched her life to compromise.
Mabel had continued chatting. “If it’s Mr McAlister that yer ʼeart longs fer, I told yer, Miss ʼArcourt ʼas said nothin’ ʼbout ’im. Only that they’ve known each other a long time. So, my bet is that Mr McAlister will come up trumps. He ain’t marryin’ Miss ʼArcourt cos’ she’s marryin’ Lord Leighton who’s on ʼis way to Quamby House and will be ʼere afore the ball is ended. I over’eard Lady Quamby say it to ʼer ʼusband in the corridor.” Mabel slid a jewelled comb into Lizzy’s curls and rearranged a feather, adding, “So if Mr McAlister ain’t marryin’ Miss ʼArcourt after all, then who else would ʼe marry but yer, miss?”
Mabel’s tone was encouraging; her movements deft and practised as she buttoned up the final button of Lizzy’s dress, attended to a wayward curl, and repositioned the silver filet, stepping back to admire the ensemble.
Pulling on her oyster-silk gloves whose sheen complemented the lovely pearl-encrusted headpiece Lizzy’s own mother had worn for her wedding, Lizzy studied her reflection in the looking glass.
“Do I look good enough for the announcement of my betrothal?” she asked.
Mabel, who’d continued her running commentary on the likelihood of Mr McAlister proposing to Lizzy before the night was over, was effectively silenced. Her mouth dropped open as she said in tones of awed admiration, “Why did yer never say? So, Mr McAlister ʼas asked yer, afta all! And yer’ve bin in such a daze yer couldn’t tell me?” She put her hands to her pink cheeks. “Well, I’m ever so ʼappy fer yer. I fink ʼe’s the charmingest an’ ʼandsomest of all the gennulmen ’ere.”
“I’m marrying Mr Dalgleish.” Lizzy said briskly, not waiting for a response as she drew on her pale-pink and green silk shawl and made for the door.
“Mr Dalgleish!” Mabel stopped her with a hand on her arm. “But—”
“But why?” Lizzy asked for her. “Because I have no alternative, Mabel. Mrs Hodge has laid it out in the plainest terms. I met him—alone—in the folly. And indeed it was such folly on my part that I must pay the price. My reputation is ruined. Two men are sporting black eyes on account of my foolishness. I’m lucky Mr Dalgleish is still prepared to have me.”
Mabel frowned. “But…‘ow can yer be ʼappy if yer marryin’ Mr Dalgleish?”
“I’m sure I will be.” Lizzy swallowed, trying to make sense of the afternoon’s exploits. “Mr Dalgleish and Mrs Hodge say I misread everything, and Mr Dalgleish has been charming ever since.”
“But...miss, yer didn’t like wot ʼappened in the folly wiv Mr Dalgleish. Yer were ever so upset straight after and now yer jests told me why. So, why are yer marryin’ ʼim?”
Lizzy shook her head to try and clear her vision. “It’s like Susan says. Marriage is not about love. I realise that now, though I was too young and foolish to do so before. It is about wise alliances, and clearly, allying myself with Mr Dalgleish is the wisest course for me right now if I’m to receive my inheritance and so set myself up as mistress of a comfortable home.” She tried to continue in the strong, proud voice that had almost not wavered in the telling of her announcement.
“But...but miss, yer love Mr McAlister.” Mabel sounded distressed. “Wot if he did ask yer ter marry ʼim?”
“It’s too late, Mabel. And he won’t; he’s made that clear enough.” She put her hand on the doorknob. “Besides, even if he did, my inheritance won’t be released until I’m twenty-five years old without Mrs Hodge’s approval. Six years from now. How do you suppose we’d survive on…nothing?”
Closing the door behind her so she’d not be waylaid by any more of Mabel’s questions, Lizzy stepped into the passage. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on Mr Dalgleish’s charming smile which had nearly won her over in the early days of their
courtship.
But then the image of his charm was swept away by the horrid urgency of his actions when he’d pushed her against the wall of the folly; when he wanted something more of Lizzy, and she hadn’t liked it. Her brain was filled with the memory of the unwelcome fumblings and heavy breathing. She stared up at the ceiling until a harsh, familiar voice jerked her out of her reverie, and she opened her eyes to see Mrs Hodge with her hands on her hips and an impatient look on her face.
“There you are, Lizzy! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Come with me, now. We can’t keep Mr Dalgleish waiting.
Theo paced up and down the passage near the saloon, head bowed, as he tried to focus on what was required for their flight to the border tonight. He thought he was prepared. There was nothing he had overlooked. Nothing he was missing.
Except Lizzy, of course. And she was never going to have been his. He’d known that from the very beginning, despite the inconvenient rush of feeling he experienced every time she crossed his orbit.
Which she was doing right now, he suddenly saw from his vantage point. Yes, Lizzy was crossing a small vestibule in the wake of Mrs Hodge, who’d just entered the saloon and whose attention was fortunately diverted by Mrs Dalgleish who called her over to the alcove where she was nursing her friend’s Pekingese.
“Lizzy, are you all right?” He drew her away a little, into a small curtained vestibule.
Lizzy looked up at him, the uncertain smile on her face replaced by dismay. “Oh Theo, look what Mr Dalgleish has done to you!”
“It’s nothing, really.” Theo touched his bruised eye and tried not to wince. “I’m sure I did worse to Dalgleish. By God, but I wanted to do a great deal more damage to the brute.”
Lizzy looked at her feet, seeming to shrink into herself. “I…barely know what really happened. I am so sorry, Theo,” she finished in a small voice.