Loving Lucy (30 page)

“No I won’t.”

“We shall see,” said her ladyship in a smoother tone, taking control of her temper once more, “If Sir Geoffrey cannot persuade you.”

Lucy dreaded meeting her erstwhile tormentor again, but continued to feel strong. She hoped the
Carmichaels
might come and see her, and despite their non appearance the next day, she still hoped they would come. She couldn’t decide what she would do - go back with them or stay here, but she rather thought she would prefer to go back to
Red Lion Square
and be married from there. It was ridiculous but she felt like a prisoner here. In her own house, with her family about her, she was kept close. But Lucy had decided on her course. She would try to make her mother see reason, and be resolute in her refusal to marry Sir Geoffrey Sanders. No one could force her to marry against her will. It was illegal now. If they insisted she would leave, even if it meant sneaking out of the house in the early hours. No – she would leave in her own coach, and take her belongings with her. She would show them.

Sir Geoffrey called just after noon. Lucy was up and dressed in a deliberately sober dark green gown, made high to the neck with a little ruffle of lace to lighten the effect a trifle. The gown was decorated with braid darker in colour than the body of the gown, so it was a very sober Lucy who went downstairs to the morning room. She stopped outside, where her mother waited. “I will see him,” she told her. “But not alone.”

“You will see him any way he wants you to,” she stated.

Lucy shook her head. “I will observe all the proprieties with him.”

Lady Royston opened her mouth to speak but before she did so, Aunt Honoria drifted forward. “I will accompany Lucy,” she said. That showed great bravery on her part, to defy her dominant sister in such a way.

Lucy smiled at her gratefully. “Then I’ll see him.”

“If I say you’ll se him then you will,” said Lady Royston, trying to rescue her authority in the situation.

Leaving trails of fluttering scarves and drapery in her wake Aunt Honoria led the way into the morning room. Lady Royston had probably chosen it because of the increased intimacy of the smaller room, Lucy thought. She took a deep breath and prepared herself.

The sight of Sir Geoffrey sent a surge of remembrance through her, and when he touched her hand in greeting, touching his lips to the back, she was hard put to it not to snatch it away. She had to admit, to herself at least, that she was afraid of him.

“Lucy, I’m glad to see you well,” he said. He tried to retain her hand in his, lead her to the sofa, but she withdrew it and sat in a chair. He was forced to make do with Aunt Honoria’s company on the sofa. “I would have preferred to see you in private,” he said gently, but Lucy shook her head.

“It isn’t proper,” she told him. He couldn’t argue with that, and it was easier than admitting she was afraid of him.

Tea things had been laid out on a little table by the fire, so Lucy got up and busied herself with the business of making and serving tea. Conversation was desultory, since she didn’t attempt to demonstrate her society-manners.

The tea dispensed, Lucy sat down again. Sir Geoffrey picked up the silver spoon and clinked it round in the cup, before rapping it on the side and replacing it in the saucer. He put the cup down on the table standing between his sofa and the chair Lucy had chosen for herself.

“Lucy, I wanted first to apologise for my conduct to you when we met last,” he said.

Lucy’s heart seemed to miss a beat.

“It was necessary, to get you back to your home. I don’t think either of us would have wished for a scene.”

With a cold shock Lucy realised he meant yesterday in the park. That was nothing compared with what he’d done to her before. “It seems to be of a piece with the rest of your behaviour,” she said coldly.

“Now that’s not fair.” he protested. Lucy stared at him in disbelief. “The only time I laid hands on you in anger you richly deserved your punishment, and if I hadn’t undertaken it, your mother would have.”

She stared into his eyes, so soft, so deeply affectionate, and couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Glancing at her aunt, she saw the older lady’s look of blank astonishment.

“What you did passed the bounds of chastisement,” she said. “I cannot believe you consider such a thing right.”

“Sometimes women have to be chastised,” he said. His tone was that of a patient parent explaining to a recalcitrant child. “They don’t always know what is good for them.”

“Then, Geoffrey, I fear we must part. I cannot agree with such an attitude, and I cannot live in contentment with anyone who holds it.” Lucy carried a reticule; out of it she took the sapphire ring which had rested on her dressing table until this morning. “I think you should take this back,” she said.

His face darkened. Frowning, he picked up the ring. “You will wear it,” he said. “I will put it on your finger next Tuesday.”

“Tuesday?” Lucy looked, bewildered at Geoffrey and then at her aunt’s pale face. Miss Simonson shook her head slightly, to indicate she was as confused as Lucy. They looked back at Sir Geoffrey for an explanation.

He smiled, showing even, white teeth. “Lady Royston and I have arranged that the marriage be brought forward. You can look forward to becoming Lady Sanders on Tuesday my dear, when I shall return this ring to you.”

“No.” All Lucy’s bravery slipped away from her. This was Saturday; could Philip be back in time? She doubted it. He could easily do the journey on his own in a day, but the Bishop was an old gentleman, and wouldn’t appreciate being hurried. “I will not marry you.”

“You’ve already consented to the marriage and signed the contract,” he informed her. “If it wasn’t for my warm regard for you I would leave now and take steps to sue you for breach of contract. Who would have you then?”

He looked at her challengingly, but she refrained from telling him. Better she keep some surprises to herself. She could hardly believe she had ever had warm feelings for this man, despite his good looks. Was he mad? She shook her head. “I won’t marry you,” she repeated. “And to sue me for breach of contract would expose you as the worst kind of scoundrel.”

“But a much richer one,” he said, showing his teeth again. “And it would ruin you in the eyes of the world.” His face turned serious again. “But, Lucy, I was sincere in my feelings for you. I do love you, and I do wish you to be my wife. I know you can become more conformable in time, and - “ he glanced at Aunt Honoria but decided to continue - “I would like some more of the sweets I’ve already tasted.”

Shocked, Lucy leapt to her feet and headed for the door, but he was too quick for her. He blocked her exit, standing in front of her. Aunt Honoria stood up behind him, unable to aid her niece.

Sir Geoffrey seized her and kissed her. She kept her mouth resolutely shut, but she could feel his tongue pushing at her lips, trying to get in. Like a slug, she thought, and felt sick when she thought it. She stood, her face screwed up, denying him access, but he didn’t seem in the least put out. “Smiling, he drew back, but didn’t release her. “ This,” he stated, “Is going to be fun.”

Swiftly, he turned and left the room.

Lucy found her handkerchief and carefully wiped her face clean of him, then looked at Miss Simonson, her distress clearly evident. That kind but ineffectual lady at once came forward and took her in her arms. “Tuesday.” Lucy whispered. She drew a deep breath of that comforting smell of lavender, which always lingered about her aunt. “I won’t, Aunt Honoria, I won’t.”

“My dear, you may have to,” said Miss Simonson. She drew back and looked at Lucy. “I saw what he did to you, you know.”

“Yes,” said Lucy. Suddenly she realised what Miss Simonson meant and smiled. “I’m not having his child,” she said simply.

Aunt Honoria drew her close again. “Oh my dear, I was so afraid he had.” she exclaimed. “Then what will you do?”

“Wait,” said Lucy. “I won’t marry him. If need be I’ll declare it at the altar.”

“But what if he sues?”

“Let him.” she said in tones of deep disgust. “It would be worth it to be rid of him.”

“You cannot know what you’re saying.” came the shocked response. “You would be ruined.”

Lucy shook her head. “Don’t worry, Aunt. I won’t.” But she knew the extent of the possible scandal if she jilted Sir Geoffrey and then married Philip almost immediately after. She would be spurned everywhere, talked and written about.

“Has there been much scandal so far?” she asked. “Has my mother scotched it all?”

“Not all,” said Miss Simonson sadly. “Some people are still suspicious about your sudden disappearance.”

Lucy sighed. “I’m afraid there will be some fuss,” she said. “But if only I could bring my mother round, there needn’t be much.”

***

Lucy went to her room and refused to come out for the rest of the day. She assuaged her boredom by reading a novel Aunt Honoria had got from Hookham’s, and took her dinner on a tray in her room.

She waited, but no one came. The doorbell rang a few times, but no one came in, no one insisted on seeing her. She shed a few private tears and went to bed, feeling friendless and alone.

The next day was Easter Sunday. Lucy accompanied her mother and aunt to
St. George’s
’ Chapel at
Windsor
, with the ubiquitous Greene travelling with them as footman.

Not only was the Regent present, but the old King too. Lucy thought he looked very thin. Two grim faced men sat on either side of him; his warders. He had periods of lucidity, but nowadays he was mostly mad. Lucy thought he looked sane enough, except for his beard, the only time she could remember seeing one on a man. She wouldn’t like to get too close to him, though. You could never tell who was mad and who wasn’t, just by looking.

The carriage journey was a pleasant change to the four walls she had been forced to endure for the last couple of days. Lucy wasn’t used to being mewed up all day.

She spoke to no one but nodded to a few acquaintances. She wouldn’t look at her mother, forcing Lady Royston to say, on the journey home; “Really Lucy, you must make an effort. We cannot be seen to be at odds, especially in public.”

Lucy turned a bland countenance to her parent. “Do you think they noticed?”

“I should think those who were watching noticed enough to keep them in gossip for the next fortnight.” returned her mother tartly.

“Good, I want them to notice,” Lucy returned, and looked out of the window instead.

If the landau had moved a little slower she would have been tempted to leap out, but it would do no good. They could easily catch her again, and she wouldn’t show them such desperation. All the time she remembered what Mr. Chumleigh had said to her and repeated in her mind, “They can’t force me, they can’t force me.”

After a light luncheon and a couple of hours in her room they went to the other
St. George’s
Chapel, on
Hanover Square
, one of the favourite churches of the fashionable world. Lucy didn’t relent, but refused to look at or talk to her mother while they were there. The high pews prevented too much spying, but plenty of people saw them. Some seemed to want to talk, but Lucy was whisked past them.

She took herself back upstairs, only coming down for dinner, and going up again afterwards. Then she had an idea.

Sitting at the small table by the window, he wrote two letters by the soft light of a day coming to a close. One was to Lord Wenlock, and the other to Mrs. Carmichael. They were nearly identical, and very short.

“Dear Mrs. Carmichael.

I have enjoyed being with you more than I can say the past few weeks. I was taken from you by force. I don’t know if your silence means Janet has told you something, or if you have decided to let me go back to my mother, but they want to marry me to Sir Geoffrey Sanders on Tuesday, and I don’t wish for the match. Please come and fetch me, I don’t want to stay here.”

She sat at the window for some time after, biting her pen. She was fairly sure Janet had something to do with this. The girl had shown no desire to help her, there was no attempt to run back to the house for help, or to shout. And she had said something - what was it? - about it being right for Lucy to go home. Had someone got to her, or had she been motivated by her jealousy when she discovered Philip meant to marry Lucy? Lucy very much wanted to find out.

When the maid came to light the fire she stopped her before she left. “Will you take these for me?” she asked.

“My lady?”

“Both addresses are in
London
, so perhaps one of the footmen could take them round.” She tried to stay casual, as though these were just thank you letters or something else equally inconsequential. The maid curtseyed, said, “Yes my lady,” and took the notes, together with the sovereign Lucy took out of her nearly empty purse for her.

When she came up to bed both notes lay on her pillow. They had been opened.

***

Realising she had to discover a few things for herself, the next day Lucy deigned to join in with family life, such as it was. She went downstairs to breakfast and spoke civilly to her mother, if not with any fondness. “Come, that’s better.” her mother encouraged her. “I thought you were irredeemably lost.”