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A Debutante In Disguise
A Debutante In Disguise
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A Debutante In Disguise

Just at that moment, a disturbance occurred beside one of the long tables and both Letty and Flo turned abruptly.

‘Good gracious.’ Flo lifted her skirts so that she could move with greater efficiency. ‘I think someone has collapsed or fallen.’

Letty hurried after her sister-in-law. Quite near to the tent, a cluster of women encircled a young female reclining on the grass. The woman wore black, but looked to be young with fashionable blonde curls peaking from under a dark bonnet.

‘Do not crowd her,’ Letty directed.

‘Really, I can get up,’ the young woman said, struggling to stand.

‘A fallacy. You are as white as a sheet and look ready to swoon again.’ Letty pushed through the bystanders, kneeling beside the young woman, instinctively reaching for her wrist to feel for a pulse. ‘Give yourself a moment. You are likely still dizzy and—’

Before she could complete this sentence, a second wave of interest coursed through the group of onlookers. A tall man approached, striding from the house, his gait uneven. From her kneeling position, the newcomer’s height was extenuated, his broad shoulders all but blocking the sun so that his size appeared superhuman, like Zeus or Neptune.

‘Elsie? What happened?’ His voice was harsh. ‘Are you in pain?’

‘No, I just went dizzy with the heat. Really, I am quite fine now.’ The young woman again tried to rise. Two splotches of colour appeared on her otherwise pale cheeks. Her skin looked damp with perspiration. Letty saw miniature beads of moisture along her upper lip and forehead. Moreover, her face had a fullness or puffiness which Letty did not like.

‘I disagree,’ she said, releasing her wrist. ‘Your hands and face are bloated. I cannot accurately measure your pulse in present circumstances, but it seems too fast which could indicate a more serious condition.’

‘Young lady—’ The man addressed Letty sharply as he knelt also beside the prone woman. ‘Who are you? And why are you attempting to scare my sister witless?’

Letty glanced at him. His face was still shadowed from the sun, but there was something arresting about him and she found herself momentarily bereft of breath.

‘I do not intend to alarm her,’ she said, her mouth peculiarly dry. ‘Merely to ensure that she seeks medical treatment.’

‘She is already under medical care.’

‘It doesn’t seem to have been entirely effective. I would advise further consultation.’

‘Thank you for that. Obviously, I will ensure her physician is called immediately.’

‘Please, Tony,’ the young woman said. ‘Can we move from here? Everyone is looking.’

‘Let them. And don’t flatter yourself. They are likely more interested in me than you.’

It was true, Letty realised. The group of onlookers had grown and stared openly with an avidity at the gentleman which seemed oddly devoid of good manners—particularly among a group who could forgive murder more readily than a lapse of etiquette.

Letty nodded. ‘Indeed, I would strongly advise moving out of the heat.’

‘It is still quite cool indoors,’ Flo said, now also bending. ‘I can help.’

‘Rest assured I can support my sister,’ the gentleman said, putting out one hand to help the young woman.

This single-handed gesture seemed oddly awkward, Letty thought, as she stood, also supporting the young woman.

‘Perhaps—however, you appeared injured when you walked here. You are only offering one hand and, depending on the nature of your injury, the strain might do further harm.’

‘You need not concern yourself. I am quite capable of managing my own physical condition,’ he said tersely.

‘Now, rise slowly and you will be less likely to feel vertiginous,’ Letty said, ignoring the irascible gentleman as they helped his sister rise.

Together, they moved towards the familiar stone bulk of her family’s home, crossing the lawn, an odd, unwieldly threesome, while Flo walked ahead. They left the crowd behind and the quiet deepened as the chatter of voices fell away and Letty could better hear the young woman’s laboured breathing.

With her arm about the woman’s waist, Letty could feel the bulge of pregnancy—about five or six months along—although these new fashions made her belly less noticeable. Occasionally, she peeked at the gentleman, but he kept his face averted and largely in profile, silhouetted against the bright summer sky.

Although tall and broad, he had a thinness also, likely due to whatever hardship he had endured. There was a familiarity about him. She saw it in his profile and the timbre of his voice. She could not place him, but she had likely met him during her eighteen months in London and her peculiar double life, that odd mix of days and night within London’s brightest ballroom and the morgue.

‘The front Salon will be hot,’ Letty said, as they stepped out of the warmth into the familiar front hall. ‘We should go into the library. It will be cooler.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Flo agreed. ‘And is there anything you need? Smelling salts? Brandy? Well, there is brandy in the library already. But if there is anything else?’

‘Solitude and quiet would be nice,’ the man said.

‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Flo replied, her hands making the fluttering motions she always made when nervous. ‘I will let Letty—Miss Barton—take you to the library.’

‘You didn’t need to be rude,’ Letty said to the rather formidable gentleman, as soon as Flo had left.

‘It proves effective in clearing a room.’

‘So does the discussion of pustules—that doesn’t mean one has to do it.’

The man gave a sharp, spontaneous bark of laughter, which struck her as familiar. ‘You speak from personal experience?’

‘Yes. Well, it was actually an abscess.’ It had been during her adolescence and her mother had spoken rather harshly to her on the issue of suitability. She had learned some restraint since then.

He looked her, his expression intent, and she had the feeling he had not properly noticed her previously. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Might we focus on my sister and not my manners? Elsie, why don’t you sit here on the sofa?’

‘Thank you,’ the young woman agreed as they helped her sit. ‘I am Lady Beauchamp, by the way, and this delightful creature is my brother, Lord Anthony. And thank you, Miss Barton. Truly I appreciate your kindness.’

‘It is nothing. Hopefully, you will feel better after a rest. Oh, and I would advise keeping your feet elevated,’ Letty said, placing a brocade cushion under Lady Beauchamp’s feet and helping her to lift them. ‘Are you in any pain?’

‘No. I was just dizzy.’

Letty stepped back, trying to better study the woman’s face and wishing she could wear her glasses, but she dared not. Whenever possible she only wore them as Dr Hatfield.

‘Your lips are dry,’ Letty said.

‘Yes, my doctor advises that I do not drink too much.’

‘What?’ Letty straightened. ‘You mean wine or spirits?’

‘No, anything.’

‘Then we will get you lemonade or water immediately.’

‘Miss?’ Lord Anthony said, his tone again sharp and any hint of humour eradicated. ‘It would seem you are contravening the doctor’s advice.’

‘I am contravening a load of nonsense,’ Letty retorted.

‘You base that opinion on your extensive medical knowledge?’ His tone was unpleasant and yet again oddly familiar. Letty glanced at him, but he had turned away.

‘Some. I used to talk to the midwives,’ she said, truthfully enough.

She narrowed her gaze, looking carefully at Lady Beauchamp. Even without glasses, Letty could see that Lady Beauchamp was definitely increasing and her face had a fullness that did not look right. There was a puffiness about the wrists. Indeed, the skin just above her gloves appeared taut as though stretched too tight.

‘Lady Beauchamp, are your ankles similarly swollen?’

‘What? Why, yes, my slippers no longer fit. Indeed, I had to order new ones and now they are also dreadfully uncomfortable.’

‘Headaches?’

‘A few.’

‘Double vi—?’

Before Letty could finish the question, Lord Anthony turned, cocking his head towards the far end of the room. ‘If I might speak to you for a moment, Miss Barton.’

Letty nodded and followed him. When he turned, she noted that one side of his face had been recently injured, a mark like a burn snaked down his cheek while the skin was stretched taut, an odd mix of red and white until the scar disappeared under the collar.

‘I was injured at Waterloo,’ he said.

‘A burn, I would surmise.’ She studied the tautened skin with a clinical regard. ‘About third-degree, according to Heister and Richter.’

‘Are you insensitive or just plain rude?’

‘Interested. I have not seen that many burns and I have an interest in their care.’

For a moment, he said nothing. He fixed her with a steely grey-blue gaze, his expression unreadable.

‘You are unusual. What did you say your name was?’ he asked at length.

‘Lettuce Barton.’

Chapter Two

The words, the voice, melodious but firm, brought everything back. Tony remembered that last Season before he went to war. He remembered the dances, music, laughter, warm, perfumed rooms glittering with mirrors and chandeliers. He remembered card games, horse races, fox hunts and his facility for wit and humour—for saying the right thing.

Now, he said nothing or said nothing right. He was in a foreign landscape, uncomfortable within his own skin. He avoided his friends, hiding within the fog of alcoholic stupor.

Whereas before he’d enjoyed friendships and a good story or joke, now he was the story, always under curious scrutiny. Or an observer and everything about him was but a play, a bad play which evoked little interest.

She’d worn a bright-green dress, he remembered. She had been reading about smallpox or cowpox and she’d had remarkable green eyes.

For a moment, the memory was so vivid, it shook him. It was as though he could almost see the girl in her bright ruffles, with those mesmerising eyes.

The clarity of this memory was oddly shocking because, since his injury, his memory had been peculiarly warped. His recollection of his life before Waterloo had felt distant, separate from him as though details from another person’s experience.

But those insignificant moments with the peculiar Miss Barton seemed more real than anything else in this peculiar existence which had been so distinctly dissected; the before and after.

‘Right,’ Miss Barton said crisply. ‘Unless you wished to talk to me further, I will provide Lady Beauchamp with some water.’

‘What?’ He was jerked back to reality and felt again an oddity, a stranger in a world which should be familiar. ‘No, you will not. Lady Beauchamp’s medic advised against water, you should not advise otherwise, certainly not based on a few conversations with a midwife.’

‘Midwives,’ she corrected. ‘And I have never read that a woman’s fluid intake should be limited when with child and I have read extensively on the subject.’

‘No doubt.’ Again, the image of the odd girl in her odd dress flickered before his inner eye. ‘However, I am certain our physician has also read a considerable amount. Indeed, I do not feel that we need impose upon your time any more. I am certain a servant can get anything we might need.’

‘Actually, likely I do need to get you anything you need, because my sister-in-law has every servant out on the lawn and you scared her off by your unpleasant demeanour. Anyway, I am happy for the excuse. I am not particularly fond of chatting.’

‘I remember.’

She glanced at him, a frown puckering her forehead, and he realised that she had not yet placed him. Not surprising—he had been a man of fair looks and now—

With a tiny shrug as though tracking down his reference was not worth the effort, Miss Barton walked back to Elsie. She moved briskly, her unfashionable grey skirts swishing. He wondered that neither the elder nor the younger Mrs Barton had not yet improved her style. Although the gown oddly suited her, the soft grey making her hair and green eyes the more vibrant.

‘You are with child,’ Miss Barton said to Elsie, in that direct way of hers, which would have been shocking in any other unmarried female, but seemed in no way unusual for this woman.

‘Yes, six or seven months.’

‘Your wrists are swollen. Your ankles, too. And your fingers, although that is hard to discern as you are wearing gloves. From your comment about your slippers I would surmise that your feet are also distended. In addition, your face appears unnaturally puffy.’

Elsie laughed. ‘You certainly have a way with words.’

‘As I recall, Miss Barton is under the misapprehension that she has medical knowledge.’ Tony spoke sharply, although this was in part because he realised the woman was right. Elsie looked puffy and the bracelet she always wore was tight, as though cutting into the skin. Why hadn’t he noticed?

‘I am not under any misapprehension. I do not suffer from misapprehensions in general. Now I must get you water.’ Miss Barton took a glass tumbler from the tray which held water and other refreshments.

Her positivity grated. She seemed so sure of herself. This irritated—perhaps because he had once been sure of himself and now was sure of nothing. He remembered his amused curiosity as he had chuckled inwardly at the quaint girl with her strange ideas. He had told Elsie about her, although she’d scarcely attended. That was also the night that she and George had fallen in love. They had known each other for ever, but on that night, friend had morphed into suitor.

And two months later, Father had walked her up the aisle. Elsie had looked happy and beautiful. Edgar had been typically pompous in his regimental uniform and George had looked as though he would burst for joy.

Then the church bells had rung jubilantly as the wedding party stepped out into a bright, cloudless day.

The splash of water into the tumbler caught his attention, piercing through the memories clogging his brain.

‘Miss Barton!’ He spoke hardly. ‘Lady Beauchamp’s doctor says she should not have water.’

‘Then her doctor is a fool.’

‘He is a trained physician,’ he retorted.

‘One does not preclude the other.’

‘You are little more than a school girl and you suggest you know more than a qualified doctor?’

‘Based on my experience—’

‘Your experience? What experience?’

Colour flushed into her cheeks and she opened her lips before snapping them shut. ‘I—’

‘I don’t care,’ Elsie said suddenly and loudly from the couch. ‘I am so thirsty. It is all I can think about. Surely a sip will not do me harm.’

‘It will not. We have water here.’ Miss Barton handed her the tumbler. ‘And keep your feet elevated. You said you have been having headaches. What about vertigo?’

‘Yes, some. I told Dr Jeffers. He did not seem much concerned. Do you—do you think the baby is fine?’ Elsie asked.

Tony heard her fear and felt his worry balloon.

Miss Barton nodded, but Tony saw concern flicker across her mobile features and felt another twist of fear, cutting through his usual numbness.

‘I will summon Jeffers here,’ he said.

‘No, no, please, do not,’ Elsie begged. ‘I feel so tired and I would so much prefer to go home.’

Tony paused. To his irritation, he found himself glancing towards the authoritative young woman in her unfashionable garb and ruddy hair.

She nodded. ‘Likely Lady Beauchamp would feel more comfortable at home.’

‘See!’ Elsie said.

‘The fact that a young miss approves is hardly a deciding factor.’

‘But the ride is quite short—little more than an hour. Most of it is in the shade of the woods and, if we keep the windows down, there will be a breeze and I am feeling much improved.’

Elsie sipped her water, sighing, her relief so palpable that Tony wondered whether perhaps this irritating young woman was not in the right and not the self-important Dr Jeffers.

‘You are looking better,’ he acknowledged. ‘I will summon the carriage and request that a servant be sent to Jeffers so that he can meet us at Beauchamp.’ He went to ring the bell, but was stopped by Miss Barton’s sudden interruption.

‘I realised where we met before,’ she said, her usually serious face lit with delight. ‘It has been bothering me—you know, like a blister when one is walking. It was at my debut and we talked in Lord Entwhistle’s library. You have changed.’

‘A bullet hole and burns will do that.’

He said these things, he knew, to intimidate, to push people away.

‘Yes, although the scarring is limited.’ She eyed him critically.

Oddly, he felt a peculiar relief. Usually people would look his way as though oddly drawn to his wounds and then, their curiosity satisfied, glance away, their distaste and disgust evident.

Turning from her, he tugged on the bell pull, his movement awkward.

‘You are still injured?’ she said.

‘It is nothing.’

‘It impacts your movement which is not nothing.’

‘Regardless, it is certainly not your concern,’ he said, tightly. ‘Now, if you will permit me to focus on my sister, I will transport her home where she might receive the attention of her qualified physician. Provided you approve, of course.’

‘Indeed, that seems an admirable plan,’ Letty said.

* * *

Letty slept well. Perhaps she was just too exhausted to do otherwise. No child arrived and she did not wake until late the next morning. Indeed, the sun was high in the sky and brightly shining through the lace curtains when Sarah roused her.

‘What is it?’ she asked drowsily, rubbing her head and squinting against the sun’s glare.

‘It is past noon and Mrs Barton, your mother, is here,’ Sarah explained.

‘Huh.’ Letty pulled herself up to a seated position, still squinting. ‘No wonder you are looking perturbed. Bring me some tea and I will get dressed. Best make it strong.’

‘Be quick. She hates waiting and does not approve of sleeping in of a morning.’

‘Very strong,’ Letty muttered.

* * *

Some thirty minutes later, Letty entered the morning room. Her mother sat, as always, ramrod straight, having chosen the most uncomfortable chair available. In reality, her mother was not old. Letty had patients still bearing children at her age. Moreover, she didn’t even look old, her hair had only a few strands of grey.

However, Mrs Barton’s worried aspect always gave the impression not only of age, but of her never being young.

‘Lettuce, I am glad you graced us with your presence,’ Mrs Barton said, pushing her lips together with that characteristic click of the tongue.

‘I aim to please.’ Letty crossed the room, placing a dutiful kiss on her mother’s smooth cheek, before seating herself in a more comfortable chair opposite.

‘Although I do not know what time you think this is to be rising?’

‘One in the afternoon,’ Letty affirmed, glancing at the mantel clock.

‘Are you ill?’

‘I do not think so.’

‘Only severe illness is sufficient reason to lie abed until this hour.’

‘I will try to remedy the situation. Would a cold or chill suffice?’

A frown puckered her mother’s forehead. ‘Your sense of humour is too much like your father’s. And you disappeared yesterday almost as soon as you had arrived.’

‘Disappeared—gracious, I feel like a magician at a village fair. I went into the library and then home.’

‘You were invited to a garden party, not to skulk in the library.’

‘Indeed, skulking sounds positively criminal. You always make my life feel so much more exciting than its reality.’

Her mother’s forehead furrowed into a deeper crease. ‘Criminal is not “exciting”. And you always talk in riddles. Your father was much the same. We are lucky that your brother had the good sense to marry a young lady related to a duke.’

‘I believe the relation is distant and Father’s money, as opposed to Ramsey’s sense, might have had more to do with it,’ Letty murmured.

‘Your comment is ill bred and ungrateful. Your brother’s marriage to dear Florence provides you entrance into a level of society I never enjoyed. But do you not take advantage of this? No. You spent close to two years with her in London and did not acquire a single suitor. In fact, you hardly seemed to socialise at all—or only under duress. Now you live here on your own in a ludicrously eccentric manner while squandering your inheritance which is the only thing likely to entice a suitable husband.’

‘My delightful personality and good looks will not?’ Letty quipped. ‘Anyway, my lifestyle is much too frugal for much squandering.’

‘You have purchased a house and must run that establishment.’

‘Two, actually. I rent one to the doctor next door.’

‘Who is also odd, from what I hear. No one even sees the man. Anyway, back to the garden party. Dear Florence purposefully invited Mr Chester. Indeed, she arranged the party all specially for you, you know.’

‘I didn’t. It certainly looked lovely. I appreciated everything. Particularly the elephant. And the giraffe.’ Letty sat in the chair opposite, lolling in excess as though to compensate for her mother’s stiffness.

‘Elephant? I do hope you are not losing your reason. It is not done, you know.’

‘I was referring to the box tree sculpted like an elephant. In fact, the box trees all resembled wild animals. Combined with the stone lion, it felt like a veritable African adventure.’

Her mother’s frown deepened. ‘I am uncertain if African adventures are entirely appropriate.’

‘Really, that quite ruins my plans for next week. By the way, did you want tea or any other refreshment?’

‘Can Sarah make tea?’

‘She can boil water.’

‘Fine, but I won’t be diverted. Florence wanted you to meet Mr Chester. We both did. It was excessively irritating that you did not.’

‘Chester?’ Letty frowned. She remembered a middle-aged gentleman of that name.

‘He has a sizeable income and is related to an earl.’

‘Doesn’t he also have a bald head, a bad temper—and a wife?’

‘She’s dead. A month since,’ Mrs Barton announced with unseemly enthusiasm.

‘Gracious, I can’t drag the poor man down the aisle when she is hardly cold in her grave.’

‘You wouldn’t drag him down the aisle immediately. You would reach an understanding. The wedding would come after a seemly interlude. And really, you cannot be too picky. You are not in the first blush of youth and no great beauty.’

‘Certainly, I am guaranteed not to become vain,’ Letty muttered.

‘Moreover, you have chosen this eccentric lifestyle,’ her mother continued, ignoring the comment. ‘I mean you do not have a proper cook, butler or scullery maid. And sharing Sarah with that young doctor, I don’t think that’s the thing at all.’

‘I hardly think my virtue will be compromised because my maid also dusts for a gentleman.’

Her mother made another tutting sound. ‘You can scoff all you want. But Florence and Ramsey will have their own family soon. I know your father left you comfortably placed, but your funds are not unlimited. And Ramsey cannot be expected to support you in this nonsense.’

Letty rubbed the cloth of her skirt between her fingers, then stilled her hand. She’d heard this all a thousand times and refused to believe her mother’s doomsday prediction. After all, she was almost self-sufficient.

Although she did tend to be paid in rather a lot of root vegetables which, she supposed, might lead to a healthy lifestyle, but hardly one of affluence.

Yes, it was a tenuous, fragile success and one based on smoke and mirrors. The purchase of the two houses and the doctor’s buggy had taken a considerable sum and her training in London was not without cost. Moreover, it would only take ‘Dr Hatfield’ to make some mistake, or some sharp-eyed individual to see beyond the wig, spectacles, her flattened chest and man’s attire.