Lucy still thought she looked pretty, and casually wondered why she was dressing up like this in the daytime. She remembered her Presentation, and the expensive, ostentatious gown she had worn then. She had only worn it once.
Sitting down again she felt more secure. Her fine satin slippers were laced, and then she was ready. Curtis gave her a fan, reticule and clasped pearls about her neck. Lucy looked at the vision in the long mirror and smiled. It smiled back, slight dimples showing at one side of her mouth. Philip would be proud when he saw her.
There was something wrong, but she couldn’t remember what it was now, so she came to the happy conclusion that it couldn’t have been important and went downstairs to the drawing room.
Her mother and Aunt Honoria waited for her there, both arrayed in their best. Lady Royston looked her up and down. “You look lovely,” she said. “Are you feeling better for your night’s sleep?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“All ready?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“The carriage will be here in about twenty minutes. I’m glad you decided to see reason, child. I’m sure you’ll be very happy.”
Aunt Honoria looked at Lucy in a puzzled way. Lucy beamed at her and her aunt seemed to recoil under the blazing smile. “My headache has gone now,” she explained carefully.
Miss Simonson frowned and shook her head, opening her mouth to speak, but then the doorbell rang.
Lucy’s heart leapt. Why she wasn’t quite sure now, but she knew it must be good. Voices could be heard in the hall, and then steps hurrying up to the drawing room.
The door opened and there, unannounced, was Sir Geoffrey Sanders.
He looked magnificent. His carefully tailored dark blue coat shadowed the strong lines of his shoulders, tapering off into a slim waist and hips. His height emphasised his good looks, as did the dark hair carelessly tumbled in a style elaborate in its simplicity. He turned warm, brown eyes to her. “Lucy, you look wonderful,” he said.
Mildly surprised to see him, Lucy offered her hand for him to kiss. “Thank you.”
“What are you doing here?” demanded Lady Royston. “Surely you should be at the church.”
Sir Geoffrey grimaced. “I didn’t want to be left waiting,” he explained. “I wanted to be sure there was something worth waiting for. And I see that there was.” His smile warmed Lucy and she smiled back muzzily.
“You cannot travel with us,” Lady Royston said. “The bride and groom cannot go to their wedding in the same carriage.”
“Mine waits outside,” he informed them, not taking his gaze from Lucy. He looked her over hungrily, like a man sizing up a good meal. “How are you now, my dear? Fully recovered?”
“A slight headache,” she said quietly. “But it’s gone.”
“I can hardly wait,” he said, and took her hand to his lips again.
Lucy watched the intimate gesture with puzzlement. “Why are you coming to my wedding?”
Sir Geoffrey laughed out loud. Then he stopped, frowned and looked at her more closely. “Is she quite well?”
“Completely,” Lady Royston said smoothly. “I gave her a sleeping draught last night to help her rest, and put a little more in her chocolate this morning. She’s docile enough, and by the time the drops wear off she’ll be a married woman.”
Curtis took a sharp breath. “What drops, my lady?”
Arrogantly, Lady Royston turned her gaze to the maid, but deigned to reply. “Laudanum. I always have some by me.”
Curtis clapped one hand to her mouth, horrified. “Lady Lucy complained of a headache this morning and I gave her a dose.”
Lady Royston’s look of complacent superiority vanished, to be replaced by contemplative concentration. “How much?”
“Just a normal dose.”
“So did I.”
Sir Geoffrey bent to stare at Lucy. “She’s gone,” he said calmly. “You can hardly see the blue in her eyes. But she’s awake, she’ll recover. I’ll just have to keep her awake until the dose wears off.”
Lady Royston looked a trifle anxious, an unusual state for her to be in. It compounded her anxiety of the last few weeks, and gave way to irritability. “Oh my goodness, I must have taken as much myself from time to time. A wonderful medicine, quite harmless, I’m sure.”
Lucy smiled warmly at Sir Geoffrey. “Shall we go now?”
Then a lot of things seemed to happen quickly, one after the other, just like a play. The doorbell rang, and despite a lot of shouting from below, footsteps could again be heard on the staircase. But there seemed to be a lot of people this time, a herd of heavy footsteps galumphing up the stairs. Her mother would not be pleased, Lucy thought. Not refined at all.
The door to the salon burst open and an astonishing number of people suddenly rushed in. Lucy stepped back, afraid at the sudden incursion. People she knew, oh yes - the Carmichaels, and Lord Edward Wenlock. Come for her wedding? But where was Philip? Oh yes, she would see him in church.
Mrs. Carmichael looked very, very angry, and Christina, following in her wake, just as fierce. They had brought Janet too, and Mr. Chumleigh - Lucy knew she had signed what she needed, so why was he here? It was all too difficult to understand. She found a chair behind her and sank into it gratefully, feeling the need of its support.
“I would appreciate it if you would leave at once.” Lady Royston said in freezing tones.
“I’m sure you would,” came the disobliging reply from Mrs. Carmichael.
Turning from her ladyship, Mrs. Carmichael looked at Lucy, arrayed in all her finery, her beringed hands clasped in her lap. “Do you want this?” she demanded.
Lucy looked up at her and smiled. “More than anything.” she breathed.
Mrs. Carmichael looked uncertainly at her daughter, and then back to Lucy. “I thought you dreaded it above all things? I thought - “ She frowned. “ I know what he did. If I hadn’t seen it myself I don’t think I would have come.”
Christina went over to where Lucy sat while her mother concentrated on Lady Royston. “Have you seen it?” Mrs. Carmichael demanded. This was the confrontation Lucy had sometimes imagined, tucked in her cosy bed in
Red Lion Square
, but she was in no condition to enjoy it.
Lady Royston was temporarily taken aback by the invasion. “Really, I - “
“You haven’t, have you? That man - “ she indicated Sir Geoffrey with one sweep of her practically gloved arm. “ Could have killed her. How could you let this happen? What kind of mother are you?”
“Mama - “ Janet came forward and touched her mother on the shoulder, but Mrs. Carmichael shrugged her off with a brief - “And as for you -.” She cast a darkling look at her daughter and then back at Lady Royston. That lady stood totally still, her back completely rigid, the epitome of aristocratic outrage.
“This is too much.” she burst out. “If you will not leave I will have you ejected at once. With as much violence as needful.” she raised her voice to a level rarely heard. “Greene.”
The huge man came forward, but Lord Wenlock raised his hand, and he stopped uncertainly. “Wait. We have more than indignation for you.” He turned to Mr. Chumleigh.
That gentleman reached inside his pocket and drew out a thick piece of paper, with an undoubtedly legal look about it.
Before he could speak, Christina turned an anxious gaze on her mother. “Mama. Lucy’s been drugged. Her eyes are enormous, and her breath smells too sweet.”
“She only had chocolate this morning, it may be from that,” said Curtis, but no one took any notice. Lord Wenlock was across the room in two strides, and he bent to Lucy. He lifted her chin, gazed at her and then sniffed. Standing up, he demanded, “How much did you give her?”
“It seems she had two doses of laudanum instead of one this morning,” Curtis said.
The silence was deafening, eventually broken by his lordship. “You could have killed her. You must have given her a massive dose to put her into this state.”
“It was inadvertent,” Lady Royston was forced to admit. “I had already given her a dose when Curtis administered another for a headache.”
“Did either of them know you have given her some?”
“Why should they? I’m her mother; I do what is best for my daughter.”
Mrs. Carmichael’s sharply indrawn breath of indignation made more impact than if she had screamed. But all she said, softly, was, “I doubt that. Take her out to the carriage, she’s coming home with us.”
“No.” Sir Geoffrey came forward. Lord Wenlock looked him up and down as if he was a beetle, despite Sir Geoffrey being half a head taller. “She will not be marrying anyone today, sir,” he said very quietly. “She is not well enough to marry anyone.”
“She will marry Sir Geoffrey in half an hour,” said Lady Royston. It was as though no one had spoken.
It was Mr. Chumleigh’s turn. Smiling his unctuous, professional smile, which usually meant nothing but this time meant a great deal, he cleared his throat, and in the ensuing quiet announced; “I have here a copy of a paper presently lodged at my office. You are free to come and view the original whenever you wish. It’s Lady Lucy’s signed and witnessed statement that she does not wish to marry Sir Geoffrey Sanders, now or at any other time. She revokes the contract she signed and states that if she should marry him, it would be by compulsion.” He paused to let his words take effect. “A marriage conducted when one of the participants is under duress is no marriage at all.”
He had succeeded in distracting Sir Geoffrey from Lord Wenlock, and the knock-down fight that was threatening to overturn the usually tomb quiet drawing room. Mr. Chumleigh very much feared the outcome wouldn’t be good for Lord Wenlock, and thought it more prudent to rely on other measures.
Sir Geoffrey stepped forward and took the paper from Chumleigh. He read it through and then, before Chumleigh’s face, tore it in two. “It means nothing next to the marriage contract.” He was furious now, his hands balled into fists, his soft brown eyes blazing with temper.
“I have the original in the office,” Mr. Chumleigh repeated. His calm was a distinct contrast to the man who stood before him. “I think there are enough of us here to witness that Lady Lucy is temporarily not in her right mind, and must not be made to go through with this ceremony.”
“She’ll feel better by and by,” Sir Geoffrey said easily.
“I doubt that.” said Mrs. Carmichael. It was her turn to face up to him. “You are nothing less than a bully, sir, and certainly nothing more.” She turned her attention back to Lady Royston. “As for you - a more unnatural mother it has never been my ill fortune to come across.” She could be said to be bridling by now. “To compel your only child to make a match with a man who might kill her before he’s done. I have no patience with you, ma’am.” she stood still, and the only sound in the room for a few moments was her laboured breathing as she attempted to recover her serenity. “Lucy is a good girl and she deserves better than you. I intend to see she gets it.” Without looking round, she said; “Take her out to the carriage, girls. I’ll come out directly.”
Christina and Janet helped Lucy to her feet. She smiled at them, obviously oblivious to the scene going on around her. “Is he here yet?”
“Not yet,” Christina said, but she didn’t elaborate. Lucy went with them willingly enough, getting into the hackney which waited outside. They set off for
Red Lion Square
.
Inside the room Lady Royston turned and looked out of the window that overlooked the garden. She wasn’t used to defeat, and might even yet be planning how to turn the situation round. Her faithful companion went to stand close to her but didn’t say anything, waiting until she should be required.
Seeing her defeat, Mrs. Carmichael felt nothing but sorrow. To see a mother lose her child in this way couldn’t evoke any other emotion in her. Her indignation at the vile treatment meted out to Lucy in this house centred instead on her betrothed, who had committed the vilest of vile deeds. She looked at him, and then turned away. “Come away now,” she said to Mr. Chumleigh, swallowing the words she had meant to say.
Lucy woke up suddenly, bathed in sweat. Startled blue eyes snapped open and stared uncomprehendingly around. She had been standing at the altar next to Geoffrey, and he held her hand, but he had a riding crop in the other. The dream had been so vivid she had smelled his perfume, felt the warm grip of his large hand in hers. The feeling of being trapped was overwhelming and as she sat up in bed she shouted, “No.”
“Lucy?” that voice again, the one which had woken her up from her nightmare before. Looking wildly about her she eventually recognised the little flower strewn room, Potter, and - someone else. “Philip? What are you doing here?”
He smiled reassuringly. “They let me sit with you. Christina has but this moment gone downstairs for her dinner.” He came over to her, touched her hand where it lay on the bed. She looked down, returned the clasp a little feebly. “Forgive me - I don’t quite know what’s happened, where I am.”
He took the chair Potter drew up for him and kept hold of her hand. “You’re safe, in
Red Lion Square
. Your mother must know where you are now, but you’re not to worry about that. She won’t take you away again.”
“How did I get here?”
“The
Carmichaels
came and fetched you.” He looked at her for a moment. “Would you like something? Are you hungry, thirsty?”