Rescuing Rosalind (Three Original Ladies and Their Gentlemen) (10 page)

“He is a former lieutenant under Lord Deal. He would never say or do anything to involve his commanding officer in an embarrassing situation. And, now that he knows the truth, Westringham seems to have some regard for me as well. It is an extremely ticklish situation, however, as he seems to be courting me.”

“I can see that. I take it that your interest is fixed upon Deal.”

“Oh, Aunt, I don’t know. He thinks me a troublesome nitwit. And, as of now, I do not even know that he will return to London.”

“Well, then you must show him that you have some sense.”

“I do not know that I have. I spend my days longing to escape the prison of the
ton.
” With wide-eyed eagerness, she asked,
“How did you ever bear it, Aunt?”

“By thinking of those less fortunate, my dear. You may find the
ton
a prison, but there are thousands, in this city alone, who do not enjoy even one set of warm clothing, even one meal in all their life such as you sit down to every night. They cannot raise themselves from their penury because they do not have the skills. They cannot read or write.”

Fanny felt reduced to the size of a flea. All at once, she saw, truly saw. herself as an overindulged, ungrateful brat. No wonder Deal had left for the country.

“I am longing for diversion,” Fanny said. “Of the useful kind. Surely, there is something I can do.”

“There is little a young, unmarried woman can do, my dear. But surely you know of your sister’s soup kitchen for the families of wounded soldiers?”

“Elise has never even thought of recruiting me. Doubtless she thinks me too young and silly.”

“I think it is just the right thing for you to become involved with. We pay two cooks to make the nourishing soup each day. Then three of us go into the East End, accompanied by a gentleman who watches the proceedings to see that we come to no harm. The families form a queue, and we ladle their soup and give it to them. The best part is that we come to know the soldiers and their families. The duke and some of his friends have been able to find work for many of them.”

Fanny considered the idea. It added considerably to the awe in which she held Elise.

“That is where she met the duke, is it not?”

“You know, I do believe she did meet him there for the first time. He was a new patron.”

“Well, you are right, Aunt Clarice,” Fanny said, handing the softly purring, nearly insensate cat back to her owner. “That is exactly the sort of thing I should be doing. I will talk to Elise about it. Perhaps it will keep me out of trouble.”

“Fanny, dear, I sympathize with your feelings. But when you are a married woman, I promise you, you will have more freedom.”

At that moment, Sukey’s tortoise stretched his head into the room and began its slow progress toward Fanny.

“Why, here’s Henry Five come to say hello. Where is your mistress, you great ugly thing?” Fanny asked.

“Sukey has gone with some members of the Royal Society down to Plymouth. She has a theory that some of the war ships may have brought back exotic beetles with them from their travels. She was quite beside herself with excitement.”

“Sukey lives happily, and she never married.”

“She was young during the Georgian era. More license was given young women at that time. Eccentrics were indulged.”

Fanny rose. “Would that I had been born in your day! But thank you so much, Aunt, for listening to my naughty tale and guiding me in the right direction. I can hope that my silly perspective on life will change when I begin working in the soup kitchen.”

“You are a good girl, dear. It was only to be expected that when you quit Elspeth’s influence at home, you might go a little wild in your freedom.”

“Elise did not.”

“Ah, but she did. Do you not remember her surfeit of fiancés?”

Fanny did, and she chuckled with her aunt, feeling much lighter of heart.

Walking home, Fanny felt a juggle of feelings in her breast. Working in the soup kitchen would no doubt be very good for her. But did she have to completely part ways with Rosalind?

{ 13 }

U
PON RECEIVING ROSALIND’S LETTER,
Buck was at first delighted that she had written by return of post. When he read the contents, however, his jaw hardened. He continued to simmer while he was out on horseback seeing to the new drain that was being dug. He asked himself whether she had a
tendre
for Westringham. Buck certainly could not visualize it, but why else would she have given him such a set down?

Once his anger had cooled, this conclusion left him feeling foolish. Had he misjudged the attractiveness of his first officer as a marriage partner? The viscount was titled now, not precisely what he would call handsome—he was a bit too tall and thin for that—but well-favored. He certainly had a good heart. And better manners than Buck himself possessed. Nevertheless, to Buck, these seemed anemic recommendations when compared to Rosalind’s imagination and spirit of adventure.

Dismounting, he walked over his verdant land leading to the trench his men were digging for the drainage pipe, trying to put Rosalind out of his head. He was glad to see his former seamen making a good job of work. As soon as this project was complete, he would set them to reinforcing the exterior walls of the house.

“This is a landlubber’s job for certain,” Buck said.

“A demmed sight easier than clingin’ to the mast in a storm,” former Seaman Gibson retorted.

“Come, now, Gibby. It’s not nearly as exciting.”

“I fink I come by hall the hexcitement I need hin this life. Glad to ‘ave my feet hon the ground hagain, hand that’s the truf.”

Gibson had been recruited out of the stews of the East End by a press gang who had assaulted him, chained him, and dragged him aboard Buck’s ship during his first command. Sailors pressed into service could mean trouble, but Gibby had been glad of three meals a day, such as they were.

Buck was happy he could give his men work and hoped he could employ them on the estate in some capacity when they were finished. As he watched them work, however, the vision gave way to one playing in his imagination—Rosalind dancing gracefully with Westringham, smiling up at him with that easy smile that was her mask in Society. His stomach tightened the way it did when he first saw an enemy ship dodging in and out of the fog.

Buck laughed at himself. Why in the world had his body made such an absurd connection? Nevertheless, he realized he was more anxious than ever to get back to London.

{ 14 }

E
LISE APPEARED VERY SURPRISED
at Fanny’s request to become part of the soup kitchen volunteer force.

“It is not a glamorous job, Fan. And the people we serve are often in very depressing circumstances,” Elise said.

Putting her hand on Elise’s arm, Fanny said, “Believe it or not, I wish to do some good for a change, instead of causing you constant anxiety. I do not require glamour. I am not afraid of squalor. You have forgotten that I used to visit the children on our tenant farms and play dolls with them.”

“You did,” Elise said. “And that was a lovely thing. I am very glad you have set aside your militant stand against the
ton
for a little while, at least.”

“I will try to behave.” Fanny gave her sister a repentant look. “I am sorry I have caused so much trouble.”

“At least Deal is not here to encourage your starts. I hope he stays in the country.”

Though she had been made angry by the captain’s presuming to counsel her, Fanny still found that without him in London, there was very little to look forward to when she woke up in the morning.

* * *

Her first stint at the soup kitchen was on Tuesday. It had been agreed that she would begin by filling in for the regulars when they were not able to come. The small building was an old store that fronted on Covent Garden’s outdoor grocery market. The stall directly across from them sold cabbages, but Fanny could tell from the smell that there was a fish stall nearby.

She stood behind a long table in front of the store with two other women, the Marchioness of Somerset and her Aunt Clarice. Behind them, in the back of the store, were the two hefty local women who were paid to make soups and stews from the food Elise’s committee purchased with funds provided by the patrons. In addition to this, a peer patron was always there to keep guard on the three society women who were donating their time in this very dangerous part of London. Today, the nobleman was the Marquis of Somerset, a short, round person who was an intimate of Fanny’s brother-in-law. As such, he took it upon himself to be especially mindful of Fanny.

“You want to watch yourself. Duchess got a bowl of soup in her face once. Some of the men are angry. Do not get too close to them.”

It seemed to Fanny that they had reason to be angry. They had fought for their country, and many were permanently disabled. They could not find work to sustain their hungry families, while their officers had returned to their large country properties, sporting in town by wagering enough in bets to set up one of these poor families for life.

These thoughts were new to Fanny. She had never really considered the plight of the returning soldiers before. Now they became yet another bone of contention between her and her own class. She thought more highly than ever of Elise for establishing this charity. Her thoughts of Deal softened at the care for his seamen that had prompted him to carry them down to Kent and train them to work on his estate.

The queue of ex-soldiers and their dependents wove like a rope through the stalls of the marketplace. Fanny became animated as she served them. She grew particularly fond of the children. Before long, she was immersed in this new role, her face lit with new enthusiasm.

“And who is that now, hiding behind her mama’s skirt? Is it the family princess? What is her name?”

“Kat.”

“Well, Kat, I envy you your family. You seem to love each other very much.”

The three hours passed very quickly, and Fanny felt exceedingly satisfied when the task was completed for the day. The marquis took her hand and bowed over it. “Lovely, Miss Edwards. Thank you.”

“I will come anytime I am needed,” she promised.

Somerset put Fanny and her aunt into a hackney cab, and they traveled the distance back to their grand residences in the West End, chatting about the various families Fanny had met.

“I’m so glad you came today, Fanny dear,” said Aunt Clarice. “You have a lovely touch with the children. I believe that they could feel your sincere concern for them.”

“I find them much easier to associate with than my own class. They are utterly without pretense.”

* * *

“How was it?” Elise asked when Fanny located her in the nursery.

“Very satisfying. I know we cannot solve all of their problems, but hunger has got to be the most important one. I am so grateful to you, Elise, for acting on your concern. I feel much too abundantly blessed.” Looking at her sleeping niece, she said, “Those children tugged at my heartstrings. I cannot bear to think of them going hungry.”

“Yes, it does have that effect on one.”

“I feel very silly getting ready for Lady Rutherford’s rout. There will probably be enough food there to feed the entire East End.”

Elise laughed. “Do not worry. Mayfair must eat, as well.” She had been rocking her daughter and now laid her in the crib. The little mite stuck two fingers in her mouth without waking. She was so beautiful it caused Fanny to ache somewhere in her middle.

“Where is Alistair?” she asked.

“For a walk with Nanny. It is such a beautiful day, they have gone to the park to feed the ducks.”

Elise looked at Fanny with a peculiar expression, as though measuring her.

“What is it, Elise? What is wrong?”

“Nothing, I hope. It is just that you had a caller.”

“And?”

“It was Marquis of Deal. He has returned from his estate and said he was sorry to find you from home.”

Her heart gave a leap she immediately quelled.

“He will be at the rout tonight, and was vastly cheered by the fact that at routs, there is no dancing.”

“I am sorry I missed him,” she said. “He would have been interested to hear about the soup kitchen.”

“He was. I told him about it. He is actually going to become a patron, if I will add wounded, unemployed sailors to the ranks.”

“Excellent!”

“Fan, I do not know whether to be glad that he has returned or not,” her sister said.

“Because you think we will misbehave?”

“You have that tendency when you are together. And Peter did warn him away.”

“Never mind. I am well and truly reformed. Besides, I am put out with Deal. In his letter, he deigned to give me marriage advice.” She explained to Elise the content of the marquis’s missive. “I inquired why he thought he had the right to advise me on something so personal in nature.”

Fanny and Elise crept out of the nursery and shut the door quietly. “Do
I
have the right to ask you what your feelings are for Westringham?”

“They do not extend in the direction of marriage. He is far too prosaic and traditional to be of interest to me.”

“I was afraid you would say that,” Elise remarked as they descended the staircase. “But I do understand. You must remember that, Fan. No matter how conventional you think I am, I fell in love with a rogue in the midst of his reformation.”

“And with a crazy man! And with a cad!”

“Yes. I guess I am not really an appropriate guardian, am I?”

* * *

As Fanny dressed in a silk gown of soft aqua overlaid with a half skirt of fine ecru antique lace, she tried to put Deal out of her mind. It was too lowering that he thought of her as an adolescent chit he must watch over. She was perfectly capable of managing her own life. Most of the time.

Elise accompanied her alone; the duke heartily disliked a rout. Fanny was not overly fond of them, herself, but her sister was determined that she socialize, circulate, and find the happiness that she herself had. As if Fanny had not already met everyone there was to meet over the last two seasons.