Pride and Retribution (13 page)

‘I do, actually.’ Wilfred growled, ‘but I wish you had your flask.’

‘I’ve got one.’ Benjam
in said as he reached inside his coat and pulled out a silver flask. He unscrewed the top and handed it over to Wilfred, who sat up, upended it and guzzled half of it down.  He coughed harshly, wiping his sleeve over his mouth.

Lucy was concentrating on straightening her skirts, pulling her gloves back on and walking back to Polly. She stroked the mare’s neck, sorted the reins and Wilfred was astonished to see her put her foot in the stirrup and haul herself up into the saddle with ease. Standing on the one stirrup she twisted around, dropped her backside into the saddle, caught her knee over the hook and adjusted her skirt.
None of them had heard the approaching horses.

‘Oh! You poor dear!’ blurted Lady Phyllida Allen as her horse came to a stop under the branches of the tree. ‘Did you fall, My Lord?’ She asked solicitously as Eleanor de Lacey snuffled a laugh against her glove. ‘Are you hurt?’ Lady Phyllida slid quickly out of her saddle and rushed across to the Earl of Buxton, pulling a tiny square of embroidered silk from her pocket. ‘Oh! You’re sweating! Do you have a fever?’ she fussed as she dabbed the beads of panic from Wilfred’s face.

‘Give the Earl some breathing space, My Lady.’ Howard said softly. ‘He had a nasty turn up the tree.’

‘What were you doing up the tree?’ Lady Phyllida asked imperiously. ‘That’s a very dangerous thing to do.’ She said firmly as she looked up at the height of the Oak tree. ‘If you had fallen, you could have been killed!’ She spluttered.

‘Yes, Wilfred.’ Eleanor joined in from her saddle, not deigning to join her brother. ‘Why did you climb a tree when you don’t like heights?’ Eleanor lifted her gaze speculatively to Lucy, who ignored her.

‘I think that is a very personal question.’ Robert Hastings said softly, smiling at Lucy.

‘Have you any news of Jonny?’ Lucy asked her brother, to divert her attention away from the very distracting Lady Phyllida who was fawning all over the Earl. She needed to be distracted before she walked over there and scratched Phyllida Allen’s eyes out! Especially after she got her palms on Wilfred’s pectoral muscles.

‘Yes, he has a concussion and a cracked rib or two. Doctor Keyes has bound his chest and suggested some bed rest for him.’

‘I’m relieved.’ Lucy said and looked at the ground, before frowning at Lady Phyllida, who was still fussing over the Earl as he straightened his clothing.

Robert stepped down to assist Lady Phyllida back into the saddle and Lucy kicked her mare into a gallop
up the hill.

‘Don’t go too far, Lucy!’ Benjamin shouted. ‘It looks as if it’s going to snow!’

Chapter Seven

‘Ben!’ Robert shouted at his little brother. ‘Don’t let her out of your sight! Not with Markham on the estate!’

Lucy heard Robert shout, but chose to ignore it, although she didn’t ignore the import of the warning. She slowed her horse to a gentle trot and leaned over to release the right stirrup, she then lifted herself
up on her left foot and swung her right over the horse and manoeuvred her skirts until they were comfortable. After that, she kicked Polly into a full-fledged gallop, leaning her face beside the mare’s neck and urging her on. She glanced over her shoulder and was not surprised to see Benjamin riding like a demon to try and catch her.

She had to leave! It was a simple as that. She had to get away before her unruly tongue decided to give Lady Phyllida Allen, the daughter of an Earl, a verbal lashing for her importuning of Buxton. Lucy hadn’t liked the undercurrent in Lady Phyllida’
s voice, the sultry undercurrent of intimacy, as if Buxton was one of her beaus. Or worse, her intended. Not that it was any of her business who the Earl decided to court. She wondered why he was there.
Maybe he is looking for a wife!
She thought as a spear of jealousy jabbed through her midriff.
Well it won’t be me!

‘Lucy! Slow down!’ Benjamin called, so she ignored him. They thundered across the meadow, until they reached the hedgerow. Lucy carefully set Polly onto the right pace as she approached the Hornbeam hedge and was ecstatic when Polly sailed over the fir
st hedge, took two paces and glided over the second. Lucy was almost over her neck as she landed on the other side. The drop into the next meadow was almost ten feet from the top of the hedge, as the land tended to flood in rainy weather and the ground level had been dropped to stop the lane from being washed away, but Polly had known it was there and Lucy managed to keep her seat. She glanced over her shoulder as she heard a strident neighing from Benjamin’s horse, to see his head bobbing off down the lane to the gateway. She laughed as she realised that his horse had shied at the second hedge.

Gradually she slowed Polly back to a steady canter
, until she reached the next hedge, where she sought the gateway, trotted through and pulled Polly up outside the Church Yard. She slid from Polly’s back, pulled the reins over her head and deftly tied them to the Lynch gate. She patted the mare’s neck, whispered some sweet nothings in her ear and then went through the lynch gate into the cemetery. She strode over to the memorial for her father and stood to say a prayer.

‘I wish you wouldn’t take the Dower Lane in such a reckless way.’ Benjamin said quietly from behind her.

‘You’re just jealous because you can’t do it.’ Lucy said firmly, she turned with a ready smile, ‘or rather your horse can’t.’ She sighed deeply. ‘Robert’s can’t either. I think the space between the hedges is too narrow for your stallions, but Polly can handle it just fine.’

‘What’s the matter, Luce?’ Benjamin asked and stroked two gloved fingers down her cheek. She watched his breath plume in the still air as she debated whether to tell him the truth or not. If it was Robert, she would have admitted her discomfort at Phyllida Allen’s importuning, but she didn’t have quite the same relationship with Benjamin. There was a distinctly brother sister relationship between them and Benjamin, like Richard, had made too much fun of her in the past.
Robert represented a more fatherly figure, being the eldest.

‘Nothing is the matter.’ She spoke calmly. ‘I just took the opportunity to get away from the houseguests.’

‘Did you find Lady Phyllida’s importuning as tasteless as I did?’ he asked with his tongue in his cheek.

‘Yes
.’ she replied simply. ‘What time is it?’

Benjamin pulled his hunter from his waistcoat and looked at it. ‘Almost a quarter of twelve.’

‘I need to get back. I promised Mrs. Egerton that I would help her with the arrangements for the ball tonight.’ Lucy paced away to her horse and untied the reins. She climbed up onto her horse and waited for Benjamin to join her.

‘Then
I shall accompany you back.’ He stated and they set off, trotting along the lanes to Bassett Hall.

*****

The magnificent ballroom had taken an age to prepare and Evelyn had started the footmen to polishing the floor a fortnight before Christmas. Lucy decided it was all worthwhile as she looked down and saw her reflection in the parquet
finish. The walls had been washed, the chandeliers cleaned and filled with good quality candles that should last the night. All three chandeliers were down ready to light, which made it difficult to get around the ballroom, but the staff managed. Egerton was supervising the laying out of the seating for the small orchestra that had been hired from London, Mrs. Egerton was in the still-room putting the floral displays together and the maids were placing them exactly where Evelyn told them to. Lucy smiled as she looked at the flowers, most of which had been grown in the hot-house just for such a purpose.

‘Do you need any help, mother?’ She asked as she stopped beside Evelyn.

‘Yes.’ Evelyn blurted and lifted her arm to point at the footmen fixing a swag across the ballroom. ‘Help John and Stuart with the placing of that swag. It needs to be central or it will look stupid.’

‘Yes, Mother.’ Lucy said and went with a soft smile. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought her mother was in a panic about the ball that night, but Lucy could tell by the sparkle in her mother’s eyes that she was revelling in the challenge it represented. She was now the Earl’s mother, if not the Dowager and therefore the success or failure of the event as a whole would reflect not only on her, but on Robert as well. If anything went seriously awry, it would damage the name of Bassett on the
ton
, possibly for ever more, certainly for the next few years. It would certainly leave Lucy as a spinster on the shelf and probably ruin Robert’s chances with the icily beautiful Lady Caroline.  While she watched John and Stuart in death defying positions, as they hung the swathe of midnight blue silk over the French doors to the terrace, Lucy contemplated Lady Caroline. She hadn’t seen a great deal of her, as she spent a lot of time with her mother and had not ridden out that morning. Lucy hoped she wasn’t shy, especially of her brother and that she would show herself to great advantage that night at the ball. She prayed that Lady Caroline wasn’t just a simpering miss and actually had a brain, because she would struggle if her beloved favourite brother married some gormless chit that Lucy would end up hating! She had appreciated Lady Eleanor’s quick wit, when Lady Phyllida was accosting the Earl of Buxton’s person and wondered when she was due for her first season.

The silk was draped very effectively and correctly without Lucy having to say a word. She smiled as she left the ballroom and moved onto her personal maid Betsy, who was just vanishing into what would be the card room with an armful of Holly.

‘What are you about, Betsy?’ she asked gently so as not to startle her maid.

‘I’m in charge of the card room, Miss Lucy.’ Betsy replied with a bright smile. ‘It’s a good job we cut all the Holly yesterday.’ She continued and thrust her chin at the French door to the terrace. Lucy walked to the glass and looked out at the gently falling snowflakes. She watched the wintery scene for a few minutes as the terrace boundary was slowly obliterated by the snow.

‘It looks like it will settle, Betsy.’ She whirled about and smiled mischievously. ‘Snowball fight, tomorrow morning! Servants against the guests?’

‘Oh no! Miss Lucy.’ Betsy disagreed in panic. ‘I should be afeared for my life should I hit a Duke!’

Lucy smiled and helped with the fan display for the mantle and then helped Mr. Egerton and the footmen set up the tables for cards. There were four tables, each one square and only large enough to seat one person a side. The chairs had been brought down from the attic before Christmas and given a thorough cleaning and airing. The gilded legs looked a little worn, but the seat covers had washed up beautifully and the deep blue and gold covers looked like new. Of course, the colour was matched to both this particular room and the ballroom and the fifty five chairs had taken the footmen and maids considerable work, but they were astonishing. Lucy had even overseen the washing of the covers, after the footmen had removed them from the chairs and it had been quite satisfying helping them to be nailed back into position with the bronzed upholstery studs, over the new stuffing.

The rest of the afternoon vanished and soon it was time to dress for dinner. Be
tsy helped Lucy have a bath, keeping her hair dry and get into her best underwear before donning the superbly tailored dark teal, silk evening gown. It was a rather plain gown when compared to some of the gowns the debutante’s wore. But Lucy had liked the simple lines, the unfussy nature of it and the sombre colour. The plain, square neckline was positively high, as it almost covered the whole of Lucy’s breasts, leaving just a hint of rounded tops and a small shadow of the cleavage it beheld. There was no decoration on the bodice at all, just an Ivory ribbon fashioned into a bow at the very centre, just under her bosom. The gown was made of Moiré silk and it shimmered like the surface of a pool when Lucy walked. The hem line was also unadorned and fell straight to the floor. Just Lucy’s matching slippers poked out of the front. The back of the gown was fashionably pleated at the centre of the bodice which was laced, rather than buttoned. The laces were made of the same silk as the gown and zigzagged up between Lucy’s shoulder blades. Around her neck she wore a simple strand of pearls and on her arms were a simple pair of ivory satin gloves that nearly reached the little puff sleeves, but fell short enough to reveal an inch of perfect ivory skin.

She sat at the dressing table as Betsy brushed her hair. ‘It’ll be lovely, tonight, Miss Lucy.’ Betsy said as she pulled all of Lucy’s hair into a ponytail on the crown of her head and tied it tightly with an ivory ribbon. From there, she inserted pins and pearl encrusted combs to keep Lucy’s hair up all night.

Timothy was there waiting to escort her down to dinner and again he smiled at her attire in approval. ‘Nice gown.’ He murmured as he held out his arm for her to take.

‘Oh! You do look nice, Lucy.’ Evelyn said as they reached her door and they walked down stairs. Timothy preened like the proverbial peacock as he sauntered down the stairs between his beautiful mother and sister.

This time, the men were already in the drawing room waiting for the ladies to appear. As Egerton sounded the dinner gong, Evangeline de Lacey cornered
the Duke of Markham and kept him talking so long that he had no choice but to invite her to accompany him into dinner. Lucy ended up seated between Jasper Allen and Joseph Stapleton and the conversation was lively to say the least.

‘Will there
be local gentry attending this ball tonight?’ Jasper asked softly.

‘
There will, indeed. When Bassett Hall throws a ball, everyone of any note is always invited.’

‘Who will be coming?’ Joseph asked abruptly. Lucy hadn’t had much contact with the unusual Earl of Greystone, so she was always excessively polite to him. He was called strange and unusual, but nobody seemed to know why.

‘The Vicar and his wife, Reverend and Mrs. White from the parish church. Sir Terrence Digby and Lady Digby, the local Magistrate and his wife. He’s a Baronet.’ Lucy sighed. ‘And there will be Lord Ascot and his family. He has a rather large family and almost all of his five daughters are already out.’ She laughed delightedly at Jasper’s almost gleeful look.

‘Goody. More debs to vet!’ Jasper said jovially. ‘I adore looking over the debutantes at any ball. It’s rather like going to Tattersall’s to admire the horseflesh on display.’

‘Are you both under pressure to marry, then?’ Lucy asked innocently.

‘No.’ Jasper replied jovially still.

‘Yes.’ Snapped Joseph Stapleton, making Lucy look at him enquiringly. ‘My mother is insisting I find a wife this next season. Not that I want one, but she is insisting.’ He turned his relatively blank expression on her and asked. ‘Would you do me the honour?’

Lucy burst out laughing. ‘My apologies, My Lord.’ She spluttered. ‘I don’t mean to belittle the honour of your proposal, but I find myself unable to accept your hand at this time.’ She saw him shuffle his bottom on the chair and at that point she realised he’d been in earnest. ‘That was a real proposal?’ she gasped out as Joseph solemnly nodded his head. ‘I’m sorry. I genuinely thought it was a joke.’ She was quiet as she studied him. Joseph Stapleton could never be called handsome, but his face was arresting. His golden eyes were set wide apart in a relatively square face
, with a very large Roman nose and full lips surrounding a large mouth that looked a little like a fish when he had his mouth open. He was tall, at least a head taller than Lucy, but he was almost skin and bone, as if he hardly ate anything, although Lucy was sat watching him devour his dinner with relish.  She sighed, of course it was impossible that she could or would accept such a wishy washy proposal, especially from the Earl of Greystone. ‘I thank you sir, for the honour of your proposal but I cannot accept.’ She said quietly and smiled gently for him. He graciously nodded his head and turned to speak to Eugenia Ponsonby, who was sitting at his other side.