Once and for Always, page 8
Violet sat up, ‘No, wait. I want…’ The door closed with a snap before she could finish.
The door opened again immediately and Jane came slowly into the room, just in time to hear Violet say, ‘His name is Lord Ridgeworth.’
Bea racked her brains, trying to remember if her landlord had ever been mentioned by name. One look at Jane’s face told her it had.
‘I have never met a Viscount, apart from Michael, of course.’ Bea remarked in what she hoped was an interested voice. ‘Is your viscount just as nice?’
Too late Bea remembered that Violet had not actually mentioned Ridgeworth’s rank. Fortunately, Violet was too wrapped up in herself to notice.
‘He is divine. A bit old but I can put up with that.’
‘We did not actually meet Lord Ridgeworth,’ Jane said cautiously. ‘It was just a chance encounter on Lady Weston’s doorstep.’
‘He did smile and me and hold my hand,’ Violet protested. ‘I wish I had not been so untidy.’
‘Go to bed, Violet. You have had too much sun your nose is quite pink.’
That was enough to make Violet leap up to look in the mirror. ‘Parker must find something to stop it turning into a tan.’ With that Violet dashed from the room.
Jane sank into an armchair and sighed. ‘I do not know which is more exhausting, Violet in a temper or off in a daydream.’ She looked at Bea and shook her head. ‘But you will understand why she was so smitten with Ridgeworth. He is incredibly handsome.’
‘I never met him. I only know he wanted us all out of the shops at short notice.’
‘He is most unlikely to call here. He was polite but nothing more.’ Jane changed the subject and asked, ‘Did you have a good day with Lily? She can be as tiring as Violet but she always leaves me smiling.’
Bea hesitated, unsure whether to mention seeing Mrs Blakesby. She decided against it. The day after tomorrow she would be on her way back to obscurity. ‘We went for a walk, played the piano and some indoor games.’ Bea smiled, ‘I had to be so careful in answer to all her questions. I am so sorry I cannot stay longer.’
‘No. I shall miss you too. I do not think there is much chance of you meeting someone you know but I understand your caution.’
As they climbed the stairs together, they paused to say goodnight to Mrs Hasting’s portrait. ‘I am sorry you did not get to meet your grandmother,’ Jane said softly as Bea lifted a hand to touch the smiling boy. ‘She loved John and missed him so much.’
Bea could not reply. There were so many regrets, so many evasions and unanswered questions. It was like a house of cards that could tumbling down at any moment.
Bea spent a restless night. Not actually dreaming but haunted by snippets of memory. The last few days had been full of new sights, experiences and information with no time between to digest what she had learned. The thought that had she would have years to ponder was not as comforting as she would have liked.
It was very early on Sunday morning when Bea finally decided she had tossed and turned enough and got out of bed. Opening the curtains, she could see the sun was shining and the quiet garden called her. Fresh air would blow away the scattered impressions of the night and fortify her for the day ahead.
A splash of cold water on her face would have to do for now. She was not used to being waited upon and did not want to disturb the servants. Her work dresses were easy to fasten and she put on some sturdy shoes. Her hair was still in its night-time braid, a bit straggly but she did not expect anyone to see her.
Bea crept down the stairs intending to access the garden through the morning room window but the door was slightly ajar and she could see a maid sweeping the carpet. Bea knew that if she was seen the maid would instantly offer tea or some other service and more than anything else, she wanted peace and quiet. In the few seconds that she waited for the maid to move out of sight, Bea remembered that the library windows also gave access to the terrace. As silently as she could, Bea scooted across the hall and into the library.
The light was muted here but there was enough to reveal Michael sprawled in an armchair fast asleep. He was still wearing his evening clothes with his cravat removed and the top button of his shirt undone. A half-finished cup of black coffee indicated that the night porter had made an effort to sober him up. Bea hoped the coffee had not been too hot as Michael had missed the saucer and placed the cup directly onto the table’s polished surface.
Bea was about to back away when Michael gave a grunt and shifted into a more comfortable position but he did not open his eyes. As quietly as she could, Bea crossed the room and ducked behind the curtains. Behind her Michael snored and Bea hoped it would cover the sound of her sliding up the window sash. Hitching up her skirt she stepped over the low sill and onto the gravel path.
She decided not to close the window in case she could not open it again from the outside.
Bea stepped off the gravel and onto the narrow strip of grass that edged the flower beds and took a deep breath. From her time out here with Lily Bea knew there was a seat just around the corner of the house where she would get the full benefit of the sun and headed that way.
Bea did not know how long she sat there but a tummy rumble reminded her she had not eaten much dinner the night before and it wanted breakfast. She had just reached the window when she heard voices from inside the room. It sounded like Violet and Michael having an argument. She did not want to eavesdrop but if she moved, they might hear the scrunch of gravel and come to see who was lurking in the garden. The curtains muffled the words but Bea heard enough to know they were talking about Lord Ridgeworth. Violet gave a long, mournful groan and there were sounds of movement. Michael’s voice was louder and very annoyed. ‘Yes, I am sure! One of the younger boys at school was his heir and had to get leave to attend the wedding. And you should not be walking around the house in your nightgown!’ More footsteps and the sharp click of the door closing.
Bea did not know if they had both left the room but she could not stay out here all morning. She stepped over the sill and peeped through a gap in the curtains. Michael’s chair was empty but Violet was huddled on the sofa crying. Bea closed the window with enough noise to alert Violet and pushed through the curtains. She gave what she hoped sounded like a surprised exclamation. ‘Oh! Sorry, I did not know you were there. I have been walking in the garden.’
Violet looked up briefly before covering her face with her hands. Bea risked a step forward. ‘I thought you would still be in bed. Is there something wrong?’ It was a silly question given that the girl was crying and she did not appear to have been out of bed for very long. Her hair was a tangled golden cloud and she was wearing a loose, ruffled nightgown.
What to do now? As she had not been instantly rebuffed, Bea moved a little closer. ‘That was a silly question when you are crying,’ she said softly.
‘You would cry if your heart was bro-ken.’ The last word was split by a hiccup.
Bea almost laughed at Violet being a tragedy queen. ‘Nothing can be that bad,’ she said bracingly. ‘Would you like to talk about it?’
Distress made Violet forget her animosity in favour of having a sympathetic audience. ‘I was relying on Michael to arrange for me to meet Lord Ridgeworth properly.’
‘Did he refuse?’
‘It is worse than that. He is already married!’ Violet wailed and buried her face in a cushion. Bea reached out and touched the girl’s hand. It was not pushed away so she gently drew Violet up until she could see her face.
‘Did you really want to marry an old man?
Violet sniffed and Bea reached into her pocket for a handkerchief and handed it to her cousin. ‘It is only the start of the Season. You have plenty of time to find someone better.’
‘I don’t have time,’ Violet insisted. ‘I need to be married before anyone hears about the baby.’
Bea’s eyes instinctively dropped to the girl’s abdomen.
Violet went rigid. ‘It is not mine!’ She slumped again. ‘It’s Rose’s. Oh, how could she!’
Several things clicked together in Bea’s mind. The general unease when Rose was mentioned. Lily’s artless comment about not being a bridesmaid. Above all was the thought that Jane had been incredibly brave, or foolish, to invite another potential scandal into her home. The only thing that came out of Bea’s mouth was a long-drawn-out and understanding, ‘Oh.’ Several seconds passed before she added, ‘I am so sorry.’
‘Not as sorry as I am,’ Violet snapped. ‘We will be talked about and I will be left on the shelf.’
Bea was getting tired of Violet’s self-centred melodrama. But she could not just walk away without trying to help. ‘I am sure you won’t. You are so pretty the right man will not blame you for your sister’s, um, hasty marriage.’
‘You don’t understand! I fell in love as soon as I saw him. There can never be anyone else.’
It struck a chord and Bea threw caution to the winds. ‘I fell in love with an older man when I was even younger than you are.’
‘And then married someone terrible!’ Violet threw back.
It hadn’t been like that but Bea grasped a way of retreating. ‘Then don’t make the same mistake I did. Why don’t you go and talk to your mother?’
‘She has gone to church.’
‘Then how about some breakfast. Nothing looks quite so bad after tea and toast.’
Violet wiped her eyes. ‘Why are you being so nice to me?’ It was not quite an admission of her own behaviour but it was a step in the right direction.
‘You are family,’ Bea said casually. ‘I never had one before. Now go and put on one of your lovely dresses, do your hair and smile. I will be green with envy.’
It was not funny but they both laughed. Bea stood up and pulled Violet to her feet. ‘I’ll peep round the door to see if anyone is about.’ Suiting action to words, Bea opened the door a crack and then waved Violet through as though it was part of a game. Violet dashed for the stairs.
Bea followed more slowly. She hoped Violet was not really in love. It was clearly a hopeless situation. Violet thrived on attention and Bea hoped she would not throw herself at the first man who soothed her pride.
‘What will everyone think,’ Dora muttered as soon as Bea walked into the room. ‘I will get another snide comment from madame Parker and a disappointed look from Mrs Duncan. It reflects on me if you walk around improperly dressed and with your hair down.’
Dora’s attitude annoyed Bea. Her old friend was not shy of giving her opinion on important matters but her new position as lady’s maid was turning her into a petty tyrant. ‘Don’t worry. Tomorrow we will leave and you can go back to being…’ Bea stopped and frowned. Dora had been a friend and mentor but still basically a housekeeper. ‘Dora, you don’t have to come with me. Mrs Hastings will help you find another position if you really want to be a lady’s maid.’
Dora stared at her, open mouthed. ‘Not come with you? Of course, I’m coming with you.’ She suddenly grinned. ‘What would you do without me.’
What indeed! Bea thought as she allowed Dora to fuss over her.
Daisy brought up the breakfast and Bea asked if Mrs Hastings had returned from church.
‘No, miss. She usually stays on to teach the Sunday school. Miss Lily has gone with her.’
That left Bea with little to do. Her trunks were nearly packed. Only the best of her gowns was left out for dinner time and her night clothes and toiletries. Reading had always been her choice when there were no chores to do but now that she had ample free time she could not settle with a book. Apart from the wrench of leaving Jane and Lily she would be glad to get away. Settling into her new home would keep her busy for a long time.
A long time sounded bleak and monotonous.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself! You have health and strength and financial security. You have Dora and Freddie!
Bea stood abruptly. It was bad enough being lectured by Dora. She did not need her conscience chiming in. With a determined nod to her reflection in the mirror, Bea marched down the stairs. Another walk around the garden would get her through to lunch time. And she would ask to be shown a door instead of climbing through windows!
Jane joined her in the garden a little later, still wearing her hat and looking worried. ‘Bea! Lily told me you were unwell yesterday. Was she too much for you?’
‘No, no. We enjoyed a walk. I hope you did not mind me taking her out.’
‘Not at all. Going out with Miss Morrison is all the exercise she gets lately.’ Jane laughed. ‘Not that I am comparing you to a governess.’
Bea chuckled. ‘That was what I looked like yesterday. I wore my blacks and became overheated. It real was quite hot in the sun.’
‘I found it quite trying,’ Jane replied. ‘The warmth also brought out the wasps who wanted to share our picnic!’
Sharing meals reminded them both that it was time for lunch. ‘I expect Violet is still in bed. She certainly had too much sun yesterday! I just hope she gets over this silly infatuation soon.’
Violet was over it already. She breezed into the morning room in a delightful creation of blue muslin and twirled around. ‘What do you think of my gown?’
‘I am green with envy,’ Bea said with a straight face. Then spoilt the effect by joining Violet’s laughter. Jane and Lily looked at them as though they were both mad. But it was a happy madness and Jane managed to forestall her younger daughter’s questions. They spent the afternoon quietly in the garden with Violet careful to keep her parasol shading her face. Bea drifted off to sleep for a while and woke up to find herself alone. But not for long.
Lily returned first, followed by maids carrying a jug of lemonade as well as the usual tea things. ‘Mama thought you might like lemonade instead of tea. I would have lemonade even on a cold day.’
Jane joined them in time to hear Lily’s last words. ‘I had to be quite firm to get it. You would think cook had paid for the precious lemons!’ Jane poured her tea and defiantly added two slices of lemon and a lump of sugar. ‘The one thing I thank the old Viscount for is his hot-houses. They keep us supplied with fruit for most of the year.’
When Lily wandered off to the end of the garden to scatter crumbs for the birds, Bea apologised for falling asleep. ‘You must think me very rude.’
‘Not at all. I have just been talking to Violet and have to thank you. She really did not deserve your kindness after the way she has been acting.’
Bea brushed it aside. ‘Is she feeling better now?’
‘Yes, thank goodness. And I had a word with Michael when I got back from church.’ Jane grinned ‘He is, or was, suffering from his excesses! He has promised to join us for dinner.’
‘Your last dinner,’ Lily said mournfully. She had lost interest in trying to get the birds to eat from her hands. ‘Do you really have to leave so soon?’
The talk turned to Bea’s journey the next day. Michael had advised her to go by train and even offered his escort. Jane had understood Bea’s fear of meeting someone she knew and insisted Bea use the family coach instead. With an early start the journey could be made in one day.
With that in mind dinner was served earlier than usual. It had highs and lows. Everyone was in harmony and absorbed Bea into the happy family they had always been. But all were to some degree depressed at Bea’s leaving.
Saying goodbye next morning was difficult for everyone. Even members of staff came out to wave goodbye. Bea had earned their respect and affection with her natural good manners. Dora had been wary of getting too involved with the staff and they were slightly in awe of her. Freddie on the other hand had thrown himself into the role of footman and had been allowed to keep the black trousers and striped waistcoat in the Lessing colours Mr Samson had found for him.
Hugs and kisses, handshakes and waves were finally over and Bea sat back in her seat as the carriage moved away.
‘Here we go again,’ Dora remarked wriggling into the deeply cushioned seat. ‘More comfortable than that hired carriage.’ Within minutes she sank into a contented doze.
Left with only her thoughts for company, Bea tried to raise some enthusiasm for the future. She remembered her Papa saying that life was not always easy. The joys were to be cherished and the woes borne with courage. Recent days had shown Bea how right he was but, in the end, he could not live without his beloved wife.
Bea owed it too herself not to give in to depression. She would build a new life and she would be happy.
Chapter 9
Cambridge. December 1866.
Simon Armitage, Viscount Ridgeworth gazed through the rain spotted window of his carriage as it rolled slowly through the streets of Cambridge. The familiar scenery raised memories that softened his lips but did little else to brighten his sombre expression.
He was an astonishingly handsome man in his prime. His golden hair, blue eyes and perfect features drew admiring glances wherever he went. They had been an asset in his student days. With his wealthy companions he had sampled all the delights the city had to offer. They had played, raced and enjoyed liaisons with willing females. Doing sufficient study to avoid outright failure had been a chore he regretted in later life.
He had not visited the city for many years. At first, he had been enjoying the life of a man about town. But undiluted pleasure had become boring by the time he reached thirty. His parents were urging him to marry, to settle down and raise a family but he was not ready to give up all the pleasures of a man about town.
Things changed when his father’s health began to fail. At first, he just seemed lethargic and forgetful but he gradually got worse and Simon had to start taking an interest in his future responsibilities. He found he was woefully unprepared and returned to Cambridge, not as a regular student, to try to catch up on the lessons he had missed. Private tuition and lack of entertainment soon redressed the balance just in time to take over the estates before they fell into trouble.
