Mistress Of Madderlea

‘There is no need to ring a peal over me, Sophie, I know I must be prim and proper when we go to London. Besides, Freddie will not be there and I shall not be tempted to stray.’

Sophie was not so sure. Temptations there would be, she was certain, not only for Charlotte but for her too—she must not allow herself to forget Madderlea and why she was there.

Three weeks later, they set off for London in the family coach, accompanied by Anne, who had been promoted from parlour maid to ladies’ maid, and escorted by Joseph, Mr Hundon’s groom, riding Sophie’s grey stallion. Joseph’s nineteen-year-old son, Luke, was riding Charlotte’s smaller horse. Joseph and the coachman were to return with the carriage immediately because William needed it, but Luke was to stay in London to look after their mounts. They would be relying on their hostess’s equipage to convey them around town.

‘Her name is Lady Fitzpatrick,’ William had told them on his return. ‘She is a distant cousin on my mother’s side. You have not met her because she moved to Ireland on her marriage and we did not correspond. She was widowed some years ago and returned to live in London. I went to ask her advice and she offered to sponsor you herself, which is very agreeable of her and saved me a great deal of time and trouble. She has a town house in Holles Street, not a top-of-the-trees area, but respectable enough.’

‘Some years ago,’ Charlotte echoed. ‘Does that mean she is old, Papa?’

‘No, I would not say old,’ he told them. ‘Mature and well able to deal with high-spirited girls.’

‘A dragon.’

‘Certainly not. In fact, she is a sympathetic sort and will stand well in loco parentis. I believe she might be a little short-sighted, for she uses a quizzing glass all the time, but that is of no account. I am sure you will like her; she impressed me very much with her sensibility and knowledge of what is right and proper.’

This description hardly filled the girls with rapture, but it could not have been easy for him, a country gentleman not used to the haute monde. They were going to London for the Season and that was all that mattered.

‘Now, Sophie, you will have a care, will you not?’ he had said the day before, when they were in the throes of last-minute packing. ‘There will be unscrupulous men about and I do not want you to be gulled. Be guided by Lady Fitzpatrick and, whatever you do, do not commit yourself to anyone until I have seen and approved him. You do understand?’

‘Of course, Uncle.’

‘And the same goes for you, my love,’ he told his daughter. ‘And though you will not be the object of fortune hunters, you are a lovely girl and perhaps susceptible to flattery…’

‘Oh, Papa, I am not such a ninny. Besides, I am going to enjoy myself, not look for a husband. The man I want is in Upper Corbury.’

He had laughed at that and said no more, though Aunt Madeleine, tearfully coming out to the carriage to wave goodbye to them, had reinforced everything he had said and more, extracting a promise from them that they would write every other day.

‘Oh, this is so exciting,’ Charlotte said, when they stopped for their first change of horses. Anne, who was a bad traveller, had curled herself up in the corner and gone to sleep. The girls allowed her to slumber on; it was easier to exchange confidences without eavesdroppers, however unintentional. ‘What time will we arrive, do you think?’

‘With luck, before it becomes dark,’ Sophie said.

‘I do hope Lady Fitzpatrick is not a dragon. I mean to enjoy myself, meeting all the eligibles. It will not hurt Freddie to think he has some competition.’

Sophie envied her cousin her untroubled mind. ‘You may look forward to it, Charlie, but I am not so sanguine.’

‘Why not? You are rich as Croesus. Think of all the splendid gowns you will be able to buy, the pelisses, riding habits, bonnets and silk shawls. A new dress and a new bonnet for every occasion. And you will have all the young men dangling after you. In your shoes, I would be in ecstasies.’

‘I wish you could be in my shoes, Cousin, dear, for I would willingly trade places.’

‘You surely do not mean that.’

‘I do. Then I could choose a husband without him knowing who I am.’

‘And afterwards? He would have to know in the end.’

‘Yes, but by then we should have discovered we suited and he would not mind.’

‘No, I do not suppose he would, considering he had landed an heiress and not the simple country girl he thought he had won. Oh, Sophie, if you go about with that Friday face, you will surely put them all off.’

Sophie laughed, her greeny-grey eyes danced with light and her face lit up with mischief. ‘I must not do that, must I?’

‘Certainly you must not, if you wish to catch that paragon you told me of.’

They talked on as the coach rattled through the countryside, which gradually became more and more inhabited as one village followed another in quick succession. Then they were travelling on cobbles and there were buildings each side of the street, houses and inns and shops, and the streets were crowded with vehicles and people, in spite of the lateness of the hour. They leaned forward eagerly to look about them when they realised they had arrived in the metropolis. Sophie had seen some of it briefly on her way from Europe to Madderlea, but to Charlotte it was new and wonderful.

Fifteen minutes later they turned into Holles Street and the carriage drew to a stop. The girls, peering out, saw a tall narrow house with evenly spaced windows and steps up to the front door, which was thrown open when Joseph lifted the knocker and let it fall with a resounding clang. A footman and a young lad ran down the steps to the carriage and began unloading their luggage, while the girls extricated themselves and made their way, in some trepidation, up the steps and into the front hall, followed by Anne, still half asleep.

‘Ladies, ladies, welcome. Come in. Come in. Is that your maid? Tell her to follow the footman, he will show her your rooms. She can unpack while you take some refreshment. I do hope the journey has not tired you excessively.’

The rush of words ended as suddenly as they had begun and the girls found themselves staring at a dumpy little woman in a mauve satin gown and a black lace cap, who was peering at them through a quizzing glass. Her eyes, small and dark, were almost lost in a face that was as round and rosy as an apple.

‘Good evening, Lady Fitzpatrick.’ Sophie was the first to speak. ‘We—’

‘No, don’t tell me, let me guess,’ their hostess said, lifting her glass closer to her eyes and subjecting them to individual scrutiny. They were dressed similarly in plain travelling dresses and short capes, though Sophie’s was a dark russet, which heightened the red-gold of her hair, and Charlotte’s was rose-pink. Sophie’s bonnet was dark green straw, trimmed with matching velvet ribbon, and Charlotte’s was a chip bonnet, ruched in pale blue silk.

Her close inspection completed, her ladyship pointed her lorgnette at Charlotte, who was standing silently trying not to laugh. ‘You are Miss Roswell. I can tell breeding a mile off.’ She turned to Sophie. ‘And you are the country cousin.’

Charlotte was too busy trying to smother her giggles to contradict her. Sophie dug her sharply in the ribs with her elbow and smiled at their hostess. ‘Why, how clever of you, my lady. I did not think it so obvious.’

‘Sophie!’ breathed Charlotte in alarm, but Sophie ignored her and smiled at Lady Fitzpatrick.

‘I can see that no one could gull you, my lady. Not that we should try, of course. I am, indeed, Miss Hundon.’

Her ladyship leaned towards her, cupping a hand round her ear. ‘You must learn to speak clearly, child, it is no good mumbling. I am sure Miss Roswell does not mumble.’

Sophie realised that, besides having poor eyesight, Lady Fitzpatrick was also hard of hearing. Had Uncle William known that?

‘Charlotte, for goodness’ sake, don’t stand there giggling,’ she murmured. ‘Say something.’

‘What can I say? Oh dear, Sophie, what have you done? You have landed us in a bumblebath and no mistake.’

‘Bath,’ said Lady Fitzpatrick. ‘Of course, you may have a bath. I will order the water to be taken up to your rooms. But first, some refreshment.’ She led the way into the drawing room, where a parlour maid had just arrived with a tea tray which she put on a low table beside a sofa. ‘Now, Sophie, you sit here beside me and Charlotte can sit in the armchair opposite.’

Charlotte obeyed and then gasped when her ladyship looked askance at her. ‘I meant you to sit beside me, my dear, but it is of no real consequence.’

Sophie relinquished her seat and motioned Charlotte to take it. ‘My lady, you have misunderstood,’ she said, speaking very precisely. ‘I am Sophie. This is Charlotte.’

‘Oh, I see. You know, Mr Hundon spoke very quickly and I did not always catch exactly what he said. So Miss Roswell is Charlotte and Miss Hundon is Sophie, not the other way about. No wonder you were amused.’

‘But…’ Charlotte spluttered and then dissolved into the giggles she had been trying so hard to suppress and Sophie found herself laughing. It was the first time for two years that she had really done more than smile a little, and it felt wonderful.

Lady Fitzpatrick, mistaking the cause of their laughter, allowed herself a rueful smile. ‘I have it right now, do I not?’

‘Yes, indeed,’ Sophie said, accepting a cup of tea and sipping it. She knew Charlotte was staring askance at her, but refused to look her in the eye.

‘Sophie, whatever are we going to do?’ Charlotte, unable to sleep, had padded along to Sophie’s room in her nightdress. ‘We cannot possibly keep up the pretence.’

‘Why not? Lady Fitzpatrick’s mistake is fortuitous and it would be a shame to disillusion her. You said you would like to be in my shoes, so now you may.’

‘But, Sophie, Anne and Luke know which of us is which…’

‘Oh, I told Anne when she queried why you had been given the best room. I promised her five guineas and assured her she would not be in trouble over it.

‘Five guineas! Why, that is a small fortune to her!’

‘It would not serve to be miserly. As for Luke, he thought it was a great lark, when I offered him the same inducement.’

‘Sophie, I cannot do it, really I can’t. I shall die of mortification when we have to go out and about and meet people.’

Sophie thrust her conscience firmly into the background. Fate had taken a hand in the matter and made Lady Fitzpatrick make that mistake. It could not and should not be ignored. ‘No one knows us in town and you will manage wonderfully. Wouldn’t you like to play the heiress for a few weeks? It will flush out the fortune hunters and we can have a little fun at their expense. And, who knows, I might even meet that paragon.’

‘And when you do?’

‘Why, we will confess the truth and the toadeaters will come home by weeping cross and serve them right.’ She paused. ‘Charlotte, say you will do it. At the first sign our ruse is not working, I shall make a clean breast of it, I promise, and I shall say it was all my doing.’ She could see the idea growing on her cousin and pressed home her advantage. ‘Go on, tell me you are not tempted by the thought of playing the lady and having all the eligibles at your feet. You will, you know, because you are very fetching. You will return to Freddie with such a tale to tell, he will be filled with admiration and no harm done.’

Charlotte laughed and gave in.

Lady Fitzpatrick’s carriage was old, creaky and scuffed and the unmatched horses leaner than they should have been. It took them safely about town to do their shopping but the image it created was certainly not the one Sophie had in mind. Even though she intended to stay in the background, she wanted Charlotte to shine, for how else were they to flush out the fortune hunters as she had so succinctly put it to Charlotte the night before?

Mentally she put a new equipage on their shopping list, though that would have to wait for another day; buying gowns for morning, afternoon, carriage rides and balls, not to mention riding habits, bonnets, pelisses, footwear, fans and underwear took the whole of their first day.

Sophie’s choice of garments, while not exactly dowdy, was certainly not in the first stare of fashion. She chose plain styles and muted colours and let Charlotte be the peacock, encouraged by Lady Fitzpatrick.

‘Charlotte, my dear,’ her ladyship said, as the young lady eagerly pounced on a pale-green crepe open gown over a satin slip, while Sophie chose brown sarcenet, ‘I do not wish to scold…do you not think you could be a little more generous towards your cousin? She is to be brought out, too, you know.’

‘But Sophie is…’ Charlotte, who had been going to say Sophie held the purse strings and could buy whatever she wanted, stopped in confusion.

‘I am quite content, ma’am,’ Sophie said, all innocence. ‘Any man who offered for me must take me as I am. It would be wrong of me to pretend I am of greater consequence than I am.’

‘Sophie, Lady Fitzpatrick is right,’ Charlotte said. ‘It will look mean of me, if you do not choose at least one or two fashionable gowns for special occasions.’ Blue eyes twinkling, she added, ‘Please do not consider the cost, you know I can easily afford it.’

Sophie choked on a laugh; Charlotte was doing better than she had hoped. ‘Very well, but I shall not be extravagant.’

They returned home with the carriage piled high with their purchases and more to be delivered the following day, all to be paid for on Miss Roswell’s account, which would, of course, go to her uncle. The only thing they lacked was that first important invitation.

It arrived the following day. It was for a soirée being given by Lady Gosport, an old friend of Lady Fitzpatrick’s.

‘It will only be a small gathering, but it will set the ball rolling,’ her ladyship said.

The girls looked at each other. The time had come to test their masquerade and they were half-eager, half-fearful.

Chapter Two

The two men had enjoyed a morning gallop across the heath. The horses had gone well and now they were walking them back towards town. Both were tall and sat their mounts with the ease of cavalry officers used to long hours in the saddle; both wore impeccably tailored riding coats of Bath cloth, light brown buckskins and highly polished riding boots. Richard, Viscount Braybrooke, the older at twenty-nine, and slightly the bigger of the two, had been silent ever since they had turned to go back.

‘What ails you, Dick?’ Martin asked. ‘You’ve been in the dismals ever since you went home. You found no trouble there, I hope?’

‘Trouble?’ Richard roused himself from his contemplation of his horse’s ears to answer his friend. ‘No, not trouble exactly.’

‘Then what is wrong? Grandfather not in plump currant?’

‘He says he isn’t, but that’s only to make me toe the line.’

‘What line is that?’

‘Marriage.’

Martin shrugged. ‘Well, it comes to us all in the end.’

‘It’s all very well for you, you haven’t got a dukedom hanging on your choice. It would not be so bad if I had been born to inherit, but Emily was the only child my uncle had and the estate is entailed. My own father, who was the second son, died when I was still in leading strings and my uncle died of a fever while we were in Spain, so I came back to find myself the heir.’

‘You knew it might happen one day.’

‘Of course I did, but I thought I would have plenty of time to look about for a wife. The old man is holding my cousin Emily over my head like the sword of Damocles.’

Martin grinned. ‘Quite a feat for an elderly gentleman. I believe she is quite a large girl.’

Richard smiled in spite of himself. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘She is not to your taste?’

‘She was a child when I went away to war and it is as a child that I think of her, my little cousin to be petted and indulged, not as a wife.’

‘She is of marriageable age now, though.’

‘Seventeen, but her mother has spoiled her abominably and she is still immature, without a sensible thought in her head. I should be miserable leg-shackled to her and so would she.’

‘Has His Grace given you no choice?’

‘Oh, I have a choice. Find a wife of whom he will approve before the end of the Season, or it will have to be Emily.’

‘Why the haste? You have only just returned to civilian life, a year or so enjoying the fruits of peace would not come amiss.’

‘So I told him. I also pointed out that Emily should be allowed more time to grow up and make her own choice, but he says he has no time to waste, even if I think I have. He is an old man and likely to wind up his accounts at any time. He wants to see the next heir before he goes.’

They had arrived at the mews where the horses were stabled and, leaving them in the charge of grooms, set out to walk to Bedford Row where the Duke of Rathbone had a town house.

‘Do you know, I begin to feel sorry for Emily.’

‘So do I. Choosing a wife is not something to do in five minutes at a Society ball. It needs careful consideration. After all, you have to live with your choice for the rest of your life.’

‘Some don’t,’ Martin said, as a footman opened the door of the mansion and they passed into a marble-tiled vestibule. A magnificent oak staircase rose from the middle of it and branched out at a half-landing to go right and left and up to a gallery which overlooked the hall. ‘They marry someone suitable to continue the line and then discreetly take a mistress. Look at the Prince Regent…’

‘I would rather not look at him, if you don’t mind,’ Richard said, before turning to the servant who had admitted them and ordering breakfast for them both before leading the way to the library, a large room lined with bookshelves and containing a reading table and a couple of deep leather armchairs either side of the fireplace. ‘I may be old-fashioned, but I would rather find a wife I could care for and who cared for me. Emily has no feeling for me at all but, with my uncle’s death, my aunt was deprived of her chance to be a duchess and so she is determined on her daughter fulfilling the role. She will hound me to death as soon as she hears of my grandfather’s edict.’

Richard sprawled morosely in one of the chairs and Martin, always at ease in his friend’s company, sat opposite him. ‘Then there is no alternative, my friend—you must mix with Society as one of the eligibles and hope for the best.’

‘The best,’ Richard echoed. ‘Oh, that I could find such a one.’

‘A great deal depends on your expectations, Dick. Tell me, what attributes will you be looking for in a wife?’

Richard gave a short bark of a laugh, as if considering such a thing had never crossed his mind, though he had been thinking of little else since the interview with his grandfather. ‘Let me see. It goes without saying she must come from a good family, or Grandfather will never sanction her. Beautiful? Not necessarily, but she must have a pleasing face, a certain style and presence, so that I can be proud to have her on my arm in public. She must be able to converse intelligently; I should hate anyone vacuous or missish.’

‘An educated wife…that might be asking for trouble.’

‘A little education does no harm, but I wouldn’t want a blue stocking; they are always trying to score points. She must want and like children because the whole object of the exercise is to beget an heir and I do not hold with women who have babies and then hand them over to nurses and governesses to rear.’

‘That’s quite a list.’

‘I haven’t done yet. I would expect her to be considerate towards those beneath her and tenderhearted when they are in trouble, but not soft, not easily gulled. She must enjoy country pursuits because I shall wish to spend much of my time in Hertfordshire on the estate. Not a hoyden, though. Don’t like hoydens above half.’

Martin was smiling at this catalogue of virtues. ‘What about a dowry?’

‘Most important of all she must not be a fortune or a title hunter. In fact, it would be a decided advantage if she had her own fortune.’

‘Why? You are a pretty plump in the pocket already.’

‘I know, but if she has her own fortune, she will not be marrying me for mine, will she? I want someone accustomed to wealth so that she will fall easily into my way of living and not be overawed by it. Besides, I will not be truly wealthy until I inherit and, for all his protestations to the contrary, my grandfather is fit as a flea.

‘It would be better if my wife could afford all the extravagant fripperies she needs without my having to go to him for an increase in my allowance. If she is already independent, she would not fetter me with extravagant demands. She would be prepared to let me go my own way in return for being able to lead her own life, within certain decorous limits, of course.’

‘Do you know, I am sure I heard you say you were not interested in taking a mistress.’

‘I should like to keep the option open.’ He spoke so pompously that Martin burst into laughter. ‘You may laugh,’ Richard told him. ‘You aren’t constrained by other people’s expectations.’

‘It is your own expectations which are the more demanding, old fellow. Such a paragon of virtue does not exist.’

‘More’s the pity.’

A footman came to tell them that breakfast was ready and they got up to go to the small dining room, where a repast of ham, eggs, pickled herrings, boiled tongue and fresh bread was laid out for them.

‘Then you do agree that you must be seen in Society?’ Martin queried, watching Richard fill his plate. His problem seemed to have had no effect on his appetite.

‘I have no choice.’

‘Well, do not sound so reluctant, you will never attract your paragon like that. You must be agreeable and well turned out and…’

‘I know, my friend, I do not need a lecture on how to conduct myself.’

‘Then we’ll start this evening. Mama has arranged a little gathering at home and I promised to attend. It is very early in the Season, but she assures me there are to be several young ladies up for their first Season and a one or two of the competition too, I’ll be bound.’

‘Then I had better do something about my wardrobe. Everything I had before I went into the army is far too tight.’

‘That’s hardly surprising,’ Martin said laconically. ‘You were little more than a boy when you left and a man when you returned.’ He looked critically at his friend’s large frame. ‘Not a small one, either. Do you wish me to accompany you?’

‘No, of course not, I am perfectly able to choose clothes. I’ll meet you at Jackson’s at four. There will just be time for a short bout before dinner at five.’

Martin laughed. ‘Do you expect to have to fight for your lady’s hand?’

Richard smiled. ‘No, but it is always a good thing to maintain one’s ability to defend oneself.’

‘Oh, come, Dick, you have no enemies, a more affable man I have yet to meet.’

‘It would be a fortunate man who managed to go through life without acquiring a few enemies,’ Richard said.

‘Name me one.’

Richard needed time to consider. He was indeed fortunate that he was popular and well-liked by his peers and the men he had commanded, except for those who had flouted the tight discipline he maintained as an officer. ‘There was Sergeant Dawkins,’ he said, remembering the man he had had courtmar-tialled for looting, something Wellington had expressly forbidden.

The offence had been exacerbated by the fact that the goods the man had stolen had come from a Portuguese family who were allies. His defence, which had not been upheld, was that the family had been consorting with the enemy. The sergeant had been flogged and dishonourably discharged. Left to find his own way home from Lisbon, he had threatened Richard with revenge.

‘That threat was made two years ago and in the heat of the moment,’ Martin said. ‘You surely do not think he meant it?’