Loving Lucy (7 page)

“You’re a good girl.” her mother said a little more warmly, and Lucy sighed in relief. Only Aunt Honoria looked after Lord Royston, speculation in her soft grey eyes.

***

The next day Geoffrey came to take Lucy for a drive in the park. He arrived in a smart curricle driven by two match bays. High steppers designed for show, an extravagant demonstration of wealth and fashion, since they were no use for actual travel. He admired her smart green pelisse and high crowned hat with striped ribbons and dyed green feathers. “A lovely picture,” he told her.

In high spirits, she let him hand her up to the curricle, glancing back at the tiger in the seat behind, sitting grimly with arms folded high on his chest. Geoffrey smiled, went round to take his seat next to her, and looped the reins.

The drive to the park was accomplished quickly and once at the gates, Sir Geoffrey dismissed his tiger. “Give us half an hour. We’ll pick you up here on our way out.” The man was left to kick his heels by the gate.

“Why Geoffrey, that isn’t very handsome of you.” She smiled archly at him.

He glanced at her before turning his attention back to his frisky steeds. “Why not? It gives him half an hour to himself and allows us to talk properly. I couldn’t have him sitting there listening to us for half an hour. To be truthful, I intend to dispense with him as soon as I can discover someone else to replace him. He’s been gossiping, letting out far more than he has any right to.”

“Oh?” She looked up at him, puzzled.

He glanced at her face and laughed. “Oh nothing incriminating, I assure you. Only more than I would like, that’s all.”

She nodded in understanding and gazed around her.

This was the fashionable hour to be seen in the Park, either to stroll in one’s best walking dress or to ride, on horseback or in a light carriage. Sir Geoffrey’s curricle was a smart vehicle, and Lucy was delighted to be seen in it, but he didn’t aspire to the high-perch phaetons sported by the most dashing and daring drivers. Lucy watched one pass them, the driver too busy to acknowledge them by more than a touch to his high crowned hat. He gripped the reins with more than necessary fervour, as though they might save him if he was pitched head-first between his horses below. She giggled. “Sir Geoffrey looked at her in surprise. “ Really, he looks most ridiculous,” she said. “It’s all very well for the whips and the bucks to affect such a rig, but poor Sir Anthony hasn’t the least idea how to go on.”

Sir Geoffrey frowned. “But he is trying very hard to master it, and I think it a little unkind of you to laugh.”

She looked at him; surprised he didn’t see the comical nature of the young man’s predicament. In fact, she had decided to share the joke with Sir Anthony when she saw him next, perhaps tease him a little. She knew he would see the funny side; he never stood on ceremony with her.

She said none of this, however, but “Is there something wrong?”

“No,” he said reluctantly, and then, “Yes.”

“Do tell me.”

He glanced at her face, now etched with anxiety, the lips in a firm, straight line, and a small frown between the delicate, black brows. “Royston took you aside the other night.”

“Oh Lord.” Her comment was comical, but he took it seriously.

“Yes; ‘oh Lord’ indeed.” He glanced at her again, his face stern. “It was not well done of you, Lucy. I’m only relieved no one else saw you.”

“Philip is my cousin.”

“Distantly. I expect my wife to have a little more propriety than you have shown.”

Lucy was appalled. He might be within his rights to demand her obedience to his wishes, but she wished he would trust her more. After all, she had known Philip all her life and whatever else he might be, he was not a philanderer. Not, she remembered with a guilty flush, that he didn’t have reason not to trust her. It was this guilty remembrance that led her to accept his subsequent scold meekly. She flushed, and stared down at her hands clasped in her lap.

“You will never see Royston or any other man alone again,” he told her, his concentration seemingly on the track before them. “I want my wife to be above reproach. You will need my permission before you leave the house, and I expect to know where you are at all times.” He turned at her wordless expostulation, eyebrows arched in surprise.

“It is a little severe, isn’t it?” she asked mildly, lifting her eyes to his face.

He frowned and turned his attention back to his horses. “Not at all, my dear. I want to protect you, ensure you’re above suspicion. So many women these days look on marriage as an excuse for license. I am persuaded you would not want that?”

“N-no, of course not.”

He flashed a smile at her, devastingly charming. “I was convinced of it. And I wish to protect you.” His voice softened. “I never want that incident outside my lodgings to happen again. I could not endure it.”

“It could happen to anyone,” she murmured, eyes once again on her gloved hands.

“No, my dear. That attack was aimed at you, I’m sure of it.”

“What?”

“Take care,” he reminded her. She immediately controlled her expression, aware that in this most public place undue emotion was an immediate cause for remark. “I think you may have been attacked on purpose.”

Lucy’s head spun. “Who would do such a thing?”

“Royston,” he said calmly.

“No. Philip would never do that.”

The remark had been unwise. His lip curled. “Philip is it? You will kindly remember that he is no friend to us and refer to him by his title. I have every conviction that he would do it. You are an innocent, my dearest Lucy, and it seems I will have to save you from yourself. You know your Mama entertains the deepest suspicions of the man. That should be enough to persuade you to obey my wishes.”

Lucy began to feel cowed, an emotion she was not used to and disliked intensely. Perhaps she had made a mistake. The thought shot through her mind, but she instantly dismissed it.

“We must be careful. Promise me you won’t go out on your own again.”

“I promise.” She hardly knew what she was saying.

He smiled and glanced at her face. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He paused while he negotiated a corner. “It isn’t something I’d like my wife to do; walk around the town on her own. And you must not visit him. With or without your mother, you must keep away.”

“Of course.”

“I have a man - a very useful man in a tight corner. I’ll send him to you. Whenever you go out, use him as your footman. He’ll be of more use than that youth I saw with you the other day. His name’s Greene - he’ll keep close and make sure you come to no harm.”

“Yes,” she agreed. She stared ahead of her dumbly.

“We need only be careful for the next six weeks. Then you may have Greene to look after you for good - and me.”

When she got home, she told her mother and her aunt what Sir Geoffrey had told her. “He’s sending a man to me - someone called Greene, who will be my personal footman.” She noticed a thoughtful look in her aunt’s eye and frowned at her quizzically. “Aunt?”

“I was only thinking,” said her aunt. “That we only have his say-so. Were there any other witnesses?”

“None have come forward,” Lady Royston replied, “But that’s beside the point, Honoria. We know Lord Royston must be getting anxious, seeing Lucy’s fortune go away from him forever. An easy address doesn’t account for anything.” Irritably, she flicked her heavy shawl about her shoulders, and her companion hastened to help, disposing the folds snugly, but becomingly.

Aunt Honoria disposed of, Lady Royston turned back to her daughter. “It is a blessing that he knows of such a person. And he is quite right - you must not be as free as you usually are. You cannot leave this house without several attendants, and I would prefer it if you took a carriage instead of walking. We must think first of your safety, my dear, and only then of your freedom.” She paused and then another thought occurred to her. “But we must not let him know we suspect him. It may be hard, but we must continue as we always have. Dance with him if you have to, talk to him, don’t let him see our concern. He might increase his efforts to harm you if he thought that we knew.”

“Yes, Mama,” said her daughter dutifully. She clasped her hands in her lap and thought miserably of the next few weeks. It would mope her dreadfully to be so carefully watched, but she supposed it had to be done. Geoffrey’s promises to keep her safe were daunting and assuring at the same time. Surely it proved that he loved her? However she couldn’t help thinking that his accusations against Philip were little short of ridiculous. She still believed footpads attacked her that day. “Don’t worry,” said Lady Royston in a kinder tone, though this was only relative. “You will have plenty to keep you busy. A trousseau to order, think of that.” she waited for Lucy’s smile and she wasn’t disappointed. It was a watery effort, but it was there. “We’ll start tomorrow. In fact, the sooner the better.”

It proved very difficult to find a uniform to fit the great, hulking giant Sir Geoffrey sent, but at last, at the back of some cupboard, a livery of nearly the right size was found. Lucy consoled herself that this person wouldn’t be following her around for too long; when she was married she could dispense with his services.

Sir Geoffrey early dispelled this view. “I’ll have to get him a proper livery. I would like him to continue with you when we’re married.”

“But he’s so large, so –so conspicuous.” she protested.

“All the better to protect you, my dear.” They were in the Park again, but this time in St. James’ Park, on foot. Lucy felt she would enjoy her stroll so much more without the man-mountain behind them, but she understood the necessity of his presence. In any case, she could do very little about it.

“I won’t need protecting when we’re married,” she reminded him. “Lord Royston will have no reason to persecute me then.”

“There will be others. There always will be, for one as lovely as you. I cannot have you bothered by too many admirers once you’re mine, can I?”

She smiled, warmed by his consideration, but something niggled at the back of her mind, something easily squashed at this point in their relationship.

When people saw them together they smiled warmly, perhaps reminded of such a time in their own lives. Lucy revelled in such admiration, but sometimes Sir Geoffrey would frown at a young man who showed too much particularity. “I do believe you’re jealous.” She smiled teasingly.

But there was no answering smile. “And why shouldn’t I be? I can hardly believe my luck in securing you, and when someone else looks at you in that special way, I think - well, not all my thoughts are repeatable.”

She looked at him doubtfully, and he smiled at her. “I want you for myself, Lucy.”

She smiled at him then, but said nothing.

***

Lucy became quite embarrassed at being followed by the hulking figure of Greene. Not the attendant a young lady might wish for, even if his livery weren’t strained across the buttons. She tried to pretend he was nothing to do with her, but he kept close, and it became impossible. His presence inhibited her from going out on her own just as much as her fiancé’s strictures did, but she tried very hard to cope with him. She could only hope that Geoffrey’s enthusiasm to keep her close would evaporate in time. When she tried to talk to her mother about her concerns she was dismissed with a casual comment, but it made her uneasy.

Lucy found she was allowed in certain establishments on her own, and she could find some relief from her hulking shadow there. He was not too enamoured of dressmaking establishments, for example, and Lucy was spending an increasing amount of time there, due to the demands of her trousseau. Also, he would stay outside the doors when she visited Hookham's circulating Library in
Bond Street
. That might have something to do with its proximity to
Jackson
’s Boxing saloon. The first time she went with him, she saw his gaze stray to the hallowed doors. “I shall be about an hour here, Greene,” she said. “You may wait for me outside.” When she went inside, she was delighted to see he failed to follow her.

Lucy usually visited Hookham’s every Tuesday afternoon, searching, as the rest of society was, for the latest thrill, the newest novel. It was also another place to be seen. Her mother didn’t approve of the more scandalous books, but was reasonably indulgent in this instance. Many of the novels were discussed by society at large, and it was important to know of them. Also, Lady Royston disliked the library itself. “The smell of books is overpowering,” she complained to her daughter. So Lucy generally changed both her own and her mother’s books.

On the following Tuesday she again told Greene he could wait for her outside, and had a repeat of the success of the previous week. Irresistibly drawn by the bloods going in and out of the saloon, Greene bowed in a rather perfunctory way and allowed her to go in on her own.

Lucy went in with a sigh of relief. Passing the previous week’s books to a waiting assistant, she went into the main part of the library and took a deep breath.

Unlike her mother, Lucy enjoyed the smell of books, the older the better. She suspected she was somewhat of an oddity in this, but it reminded her of days she had spent in her childhood, exploring the dusty tomes in the library at the Grange, reading with her cousin and laughing at some of the quaint engravings inside. She had always disliked Bernard, or felt uncomfortable in his presence. He teased her too much, and behaved too high-handedly with her for her to feel entirely comfortable with him. On the other hand Philip had a touch of gentleness about him, and she had looked forward to his visits to her home when she was little. Philip, while not harping on about joining the fortune and the estate as his brother did, had nevertheless sided with him, choosing to say nothing as Bernard threatened Court action to force her to marry him; an empty threat as it had turned out.