Regency Rumours/A Scandalous Mistress/Dishonour And Desire (24 page)

‘Dear Miss Chester,’ he drawled, imitating the world-weary accents of the nonpareil but negating it with his laughing eyes, ‘my prayers have been answered. I knew it … I
knew
it! You
flew
down to Bath because you could not
bear
to be without my company for a
moment
longer. Admit it, now. Make her admit it, dear Lady Chester.’

‘I did no such thing, Mr Elwick. Release my hands, if you please,’ said Caterina, blushing. ‘It’s far less romantic than that, and we’re both meant to be avoiding each other.’

‘Really?’ said Tam, looking affronted. ‘Lady Chester, is that so?’

‘I think,’ said Amelie, ‘that some consultation would have
been useful. In fact, Mr Elwick, we have come to meet up with Signor Rauzzini. It’s as simple as that.’

Tam pulled a face while the rest of the group looked on, clearly amused and fascinated by this unexpected drama. ‘But I may borrow her, may I not, Lady Chester? For a drive … a walk … a
dance
? Heavily chaperoned, of course? No labyrinths? With my hands tied behind my back?’ The young flirt was irresistible, and he knew it.

‘If Caterina wishes it,’ Amelie said, ‘but first I must speak with Lady Dorna and see what she has to say about it.’

They had not long to wait; as they trooped out of Meyler’s, the lady in question, as modish as ever in apricot and white, came fluttering through the great west door of the abbey held open for her by a very good-looking gentleman who, as soon as he perceived Amelie and the others, bowed and strode off smartly in the opposite direction. Unabashed by this obvious retreat, Dorna stretched out her arms towards them and, in the next moment, put an end to any of Amelie’s reservations about a welcome. Soon, they were walking arm in arm along the South Parade as if their meeting had been planned from the first and no hitch had ever existed to spoil their enjoyment. There was so much to do here, Dorna agreed, that not an evening would pass without a party, an assembly ball, a theatre visit or a fête at Sydney Gardens opposite their house.

With this lift to their modest expectations, it was hardly surprising that Amelie’s original plan to contact the maestro as soon as possible was delayed in favour of Caterina’s more immediate diversions with Tam and the new friends he had attracted. Reviewing her niece’s soaring spirits as she strolled through the crowds between Tam and Hannah, smiling at his teasing, free of Lord Rayne’s disapproval, Amelie decided on
a few days’ respite before the attention to more serious matters. Meanwhile, closely chaperoned, Caterina would come to no harm, and not a word of protest or disappointment was heard. Exactly why and when Caterina began her strange behaviour was not clear, for she had not been her usual self since Lord Rayne’s coolness towards her. That she had been hurt and bewildered by it was obvious to Amelie, who suffered for her, but was unable to advise her on how to deal with it. Such advice, had there been any, would have been as useful to Amelie herself in her dealings with the elder brother. Caterina had tried hard not to let her pain show while taking pleasure in Tam’s company which, in many ways a blessing, had come at a time when she needed an alternative admirer, even one as superficial as he.

In the following few days, neither Amelie nor Dorna laid on the chaperonage with a heavy hand, there being a group of six or seven young people on each of their excursions to the hills surrounding Bath, Dorna’s children with their nurses, Hannah and Amelie, sometimes horses, waggons, drivers and grooms too. At intervals, Caterina would return to her aunt as if to reassure her that all was well, seemingly carefree, sometimes poetically dreamy, at other times bursting with energy. If Amelie was surprised by these remarkable swings from disconsolate to highly charged, then to the dreamy young lady, then to some astonishingly moving singing practices, after which Caterina would fall asleep, there was nothing to which she could attribute it except, perhaps, the invigorating Somerset air.

Four days after their arrival, they took a box for the grand opening night of the new Theatre Royal in Beaufort
Square on October 12th, during which Caterina’s perception of what was happening on the stage so overwhelmed her that she wept uncontrollably and, halfway through, Amelie and Dorna had to take her into the foyer to comfort her. The performance of Shakespeare’s
Richard III
was not thought to be so very painful to one so young, they both agreed, until it was revealed that Caterina’s tears were not for sadness but for the event itself. The splendid crimson-and-gold décor, the ambience, the stunning scenery and costumes, the clever lighting, the superb acting and the dazzling magic of the occasion were all too much for her. Poetically, she described to them the colours, shapes and patterns she had seen, the sound of music and voices heard as if through resonating mirrors, a kaleidoscope of senses and illusions, which they were unable to recognise in that exaggerated form.

‘Has she been taking anything?’ Dorna whispered.

Amelie frowned. ‘No,’ she said, ‘she’s as healthy as a young ox. You saw how she almost
danced
her way here this evening.’

Coming from the opposite end of town, Dorna had not. She shook her head. ‘Odd,’ she said. ‘Has she been like this before?’

‘Not that I know of. She’s very artistic, you know. Very sensitive. Music affects her, as it does me.’

‘Mm … m,’ said Dorna. ‘That’s probably what it is, then.’ The hour was late when the two sedan chairs deposited them on the doorstep, but Caterina was still of a mind to write to her family to tell them of the amazing sights she had witnessed that evening, writing well into the night until the candle gave out. Before sealing it, she remembered to add a postscript asking her father to send an extra allowance of money, as things in Bath were so very costly.

***

Across the breakfast table next morning, Amelie waved a letter. ‘From Signor Rauzzini,’ she said, happily. ‘He’s responded very quickly, my dear. I think he must be eager to hear you again. He invites us to visit him tomorrow afternoon. Would you like that?’

‘Yes, that would be nice. Where does he live?’

‘A little village called Widcombe on the outskirts of town. Only a walk away. Are you all right?’

‘I have a slight headache.’

‘I’m not surprised, with all that weeping. Did you sleep?’

‘I think … a little.’

‘Thinking about things?’

Caterina nodded, once. ‘I thought he might have come by now.’ Placing a hand on her breast, she stared down at the bright white reflections on her plate. ‘It hurts,’ she whispered, wincing. ‘Why doesn’t he come?’

‘Yes, dearest. I know it does.’

‘Do you hurt, too?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you quarrel?’

‘Not seriously. I don’t really know.’

‘Not to know is worse, isn’t it?’

‘No, my dear. As long as you don’t know, there are grounds for hope. It’s knowing that’s unbearable.’

‘I suppose we should go to church, but I’m not sure that I can.’

‘We could try the abbey. There’s a good organist, and a choir, and there’s plenty to see. We need not stay for the sermon, unless you wish it. Then we can walk on to Sydney Place, then to the gardens. There’s a pleasant ride all the way round. We can take the phaeton.’

‘Would you rather walk, Aunt Amelie?’

‘No, dear. I’d rather drive today. Wear something pretty. There’s nothing like dressing up to dispel headaches and heartaches.’ Not for one moment did she believe it, but had Caterina not needed a boost of some kind, she herself would have gone back to bed with a book and a cup of hot chocolate in port wine instead of meeting Dorna’s party in Sydney Gardens. Last night, Caterina had been intoxicated by her experience at the theatre. Today, she was back to despair again. ‘Have something to eat,’ she whispered, placing the honey pot from Rundell’s in front of her. ‘Do you remember that
dreadful
tea urn we chose that day?’

A new day and still no sign that would have put an end to at least one of her concerns, the one that preyed on her mind night and day. She had told Caterina that knowing was unbearable, but it also forced one to drag out of hiding every possible ploy to deal with the problem. She had lately considered begging him to marry her, but had quickly put that idea back where it belonged. That would be too shabby, even for a womaniser like him. The answer was to wait. Anything might happen while one waited.

The house that Dorna had leased for the season was in many respects like Amelie’s, stone-terraced and stylish, but without the lofty position of Lansdown, or its exclusivity. As they had done at Mortlake, the occupants tumbled out of the front door on to the pavement where Dorna exchanged places with Caterina in the phaeton, intending to keep pace with the walkers. There was more to this strategy than Amelie’s courtesy, however, for she intended to use the opportunity to ask Dorna about the formidable Marchioness who, according to her eldest son, was highly intolerant of adult misbehaviour.
More than once, Amelie had received mixed messages about this, and now she felt she knew Dorna well enough to ask her outright.

So, while gentle Hannah walked with the nurses and children in whom she delighted, Caterina walked with Tam in sight of the phaeton, leaving the path now and then to push the swings, to examine the grottoes or to linger on the Chinese bridges over the canal. The children threw bread to the ducks under a waterfall, and here Amelie rested the two beautiful dapple-greys for Dorna to watch the fun. ‘You promised to tell me about your Tudor ancestor, Adorna Pickering,’ she said. ‘The scandal. Remember?’

Wrapped in layers of frothy pink and tinkling like a bell, Dorna laughed. ‘If you have the heart to take on my brother for a husband, then you’ll not mind hearing about Adorna, who apparently appeared half-naked in a masque before Queen Elizabeth and was netted by Sir Nicholas Rayne and dragged half-across the floor in front of the whole assembly, before he carried her off.’

‘Really? Now that’s what I call scandalous behaviour.’

‘And at Kenilworth, on a royal progress, she acted before the queen in place of her brother Seton, and then fled with Sir Nicholas chasing after her. And by the time they reached Richmond, she was pregnant. Her father was livid, but they married just the same. It caused quite a stir at the time.’ There was no element of censure or shame in Dorna’s account. Quite the opposite; she sounded rather envious, if anything, of the excitement her namesake had generated. ‘I think,’ she said, ‘that most of our ancestors have had stories attached to them, one way or another. What about yours, Amelie? Are they all squeaky-clean?’

‘Oh, I doubt it,’ Amelie smiled, treading carefully. ‘But you said that your mother was no stranger to scandal. Did you mean the ancestors, or personally?’

Plucking at the double layer of frills around her neckline, Dorna gave a gleeful chuckle at the prospect of talking about it. ‘She’s a larger-than-life character, if ever there was one,’ she said. ‘We all adore her. My father adored her when she was the Duke of Asenthorpe’s mistress, and so did plenty of others, I believe. You may think it’s bad enough that Nick and Seton have taken mistresses, but Mother was almost as bad before Father snared her. We tease her that it’s the Royal Stud connection she fancied more than my father, but then she settled down and had us, and pretends to be as respectable as anyone else. She’ll be as pleased as Punch that Nick has found someone like you to marry. She and my father have been telling him for ages that it was time he started a family. Oh, I’m not saying,’ she said, placing gloved fingertips on Amelie’s arm, ‘that Nick would
ever
take anyone to wife just to please them. He wouldn’t. But we’ve all seen how he looks at you, Amelie. He’s in love, this time.’

Amelie had her own cynical views on that subject. ‘He must have been in love before, surely?’

‘I don’t think so … no … I’m sure he hasn’t.’ She turned to Amelie as she recalled something else she had to say. ‘By the way, you know Hannah fancies herself to be in love with Nick, don’t you …? Yes … well, don’t let it concern you. She’s in love with the idea of getting married and having a large family as much as anything. Look at her. She’ll make a wonderful mother and wife to somebody, but she’s not Nick’s type. You’re his type, not Hannah.’

‘What
is
his type, exactly?’

‘I’d say class, beauty and intelligence, mostly. But particularly class, and you have oodles of that. Father would never allow him to marry beneath him. Family lines and all that. Having mistresses lower down the scale to practise on is one thing, but marriage is different, isn’t it? Even our mother comes of a good family, or Father would not have made her his wife. That’s how it goes.’

‘What about Admiral Lord Nelson’s poor wife, deserted for a woman of low repute, though? The Viscountess is a near neighbour of yours.’

‘That she is, poor dear. Put aside for a common little nobody. I feel so sorry for her, and she’s
so
well bred and accomplished. Did you know that her husband fathered twins on that Hamilton woman, and that one of them was put into the Foundling Hospital in London because she felt she could not cope with both of them? Yes, it’s true, Amelie.’

Amelie struggled to keep her expression within her control, neither too pitying nor yet too alarmed. This was a clear reminder, if she needed one, that those high up the social ladder were as dependent upon Foundling Hospitals and such places as those lower down. Even a man as besotted as Lord Nelson had not found a way to keep both his offspring with their mother during such a very public relationship. ‘How do you know this?’ she said, glad to be sitting down.

‘Gossip filters down,’ whispered Dorna, ‘especially from Mother. She’s in touch with the Foundling Hospital, but she’s a shocking gossip.’

‘So why do you suppose your brother painted such a forbidding picture of her to me? He made it sound as if she was easily offended.’

‘I cannot imagine, dear thing,’ Dorna said, waving to Tam
and Caterina. ‘Teasing, I expect. Even I don’t know when Nick is teasing. Look at those two. Where have they been?’