Talk of the Ton

At that point two servants arrived with trays, one bearing an urn and all the accoutrements for making tea and the other some plates laden with cakes and pastries, which were set down on a table beside the Duchess. The conversation was halted as she set about offering their guest food and drink. She took a cup of tea for herself, but the Duke declined.

James watched Andrew dealing politely with his wife and wished it could have been anyone but Andrew Melhurst who had found Beth. The man had left England after a scandal of some sort, though he could not remember the details, but if past follies were attached to this present situation, he feared for Beth’s reputation.

‘Were you seen?’ he asked.

Andrew, in the middle of biting into a delicious honey-filled pastry, gave him a sharp look. The Duke was only echoing what he himself had said to Miss Harley, but it was one thing to acknowledge the problem to himself and mention it to her, quite another when someone else pointed it out to him as if it had all been his fault. ‘The docks were very busy, your Grace, I have no idea who saw us. I hope no one of importance…’

‘And when you arrived here?’

‘Oh, James, do not quiz the poor man like that,’ Sophie said. ‘He has done his best to do the right thing and bring Beth to us. He left her in the carriage and I went out with a cloak to fetch her in. No one saw us.’

James, who had been prepared to dislike the man, found himself revising his earlier opinion. A less scrupulous man might have taken advantage of the situation. ‘Then I must thank you, sir, for your discretion. If her reputation was to be sullied by this adventure, I fear she would find it difficult to take her place in society and make her curtsy. As for finding a husband…’ He stopped, realising he had been thinking aloud and such problems were nothing to do with the man who faced him. ‘I am sorry, it is not your fault you have been unwittingly caught up in our problems.’

‘If Miss Harley’s good name is brought into question, then I will do the honourable thing, your Grace.’ Whatever made him say that? Andrew asked himself. The idea of marrying the lady had never crossed his mind until the words came out of his mouth.

James smiled. No doubt he would. The niece of one of England’s foremost Dukes would be quite a catch for the grandson of a mere baron. ‘I do not think that will be necessary,’ he said quite sharply and then relented. ‘I mean…you have managed to bring her here with the minimum of fuss and we can find a way of accounting for her arrival ahead of her mother and sister. All will be well, I am sure.’

‘But we do, indeed, thank you,’ the Duchess put in, smiling. ‘I had expected Beth to come down and thank you herself…’

‘She has thanked me already,’ Andrew said. ‘I would not wish to put her to the blush by having to repeat it. I did only what any gentleman worthy of the name would do.’ He put his cup down and rose to bring the interview to an end. He felt uncomfortable, as if he were being quizzed as a potential suitor, when all he had wanted to do was hand over the hoyden and take his leave.

The Duchess rose too. ‘Mr Melhurst, are you, by chance, on your way to your grandfather’s house? I collect it is near Newmarket.’

‘Yes, your Grace.’

She smiled. ‘And no doubt hoped to be halfway there by now.’

Andrew bowed to acknowledge the truth of this. ‘It is of no consequence,’ he said politely.

‘I hesitate to ask another favour of you,’ she began, making her husband look sharply at her, eyebrows raised in enquiry. ‘But I know my sister-in-law will be beside herself with worry. Would you, could you, call at Beechgrove on your way and set her mind at rest? I know it is an imposition—if it is inconvenient, please say so.’

‘It will be my pleasure, your Grace.’ He endeavoured to sound cheerful about it. It was not so much that it would mean taking a small detour, but that he would still be embroiled in the doings of Miss Elizabeth Harley and at the beck and call of the Duke and Duchess of Belfont. Were they so pessimistic about finding the chit a husband they had to drag one in off the street? He felt as though he were being used and he did not like the feeling at all.

‘Please tell Lady Harley that we will keep Beth here with us,’ the Duchess went on. ‘But it would be advisable if she were to bring forward her own arrival in London so that it may look as though they all arrived together.’

‘I will do that, your Grace,’ he said and took his leave before she could suggest any other errands for him to do.

He passed out of the room and on to the gallery. He paused outside the door, thankful to have escaped, and made for the top of the stairs to the ground floor. A movement, a sound—he was not afterwards sure which it was—made him look up. Above him, at the head of the stairs, stood a vision in green, one hand on the balustrade, one slippered foot poised above the top step, ready to descend. This was no hoyden dressed in male attire, no untidy miss with dark hair tumbling down beneath an over-large tricorne hat, this was a woman of poise and breathtaking loveliness. The gown swirled about her legs, its tightly fitted bodice revealing a figure no less than perfect. Her hair had been twisted up into coils that emphasised a pale and slender neck. She was staring down at him, as if uncertain whether to descend.

He smiled and bowed. ‘Miss Harley, your obedient.’

‘Mr Melhurst.’ Her foot went back beside the other one. She did not want to go down to him, did not want the humiliation of having to express her gratitude all over again. It would not have been so bad if he had not been so insufferably arrogant. But she could not turn away. His eyes, appraising her, held her mesmerised.

A servant came along the corridor and disappeared into the room he had just left and in a flash she had fled and he was left staring at nothing. Smiling, he descended to the ground floor where the footman who had admitted him rose from his chair to open the front door for him.

He continued to smile as he was driven away. He had been wrong to think of Miss Harley as a chit, only lately out of the schoolroom; it was that strange garb which had made her seem so young. In that exquisite dress she looked poised and mature enough to be already out. There was no need for the Duke and Duchess to drag suitors in from the street, they must be flocking round her. His amused condescension had taken a strange and disturbing turn. He found himself wishing he was not heading for Newmarket.

‘Sophie, whatever were you thinking of, asking Mr Melhurst to go to Beechgrove?’ James asked. ‘I could have sent a courier with a note. We are indebted to him enough as it is.’

‘Oh, he did not mind.’

‘Whether he minded or not, is not the point. Why did you do it?’

‘He is a very fine gentleman, don’t you think? And aware of the delicacy of the situation. And servants talk…’

‘Not ours, or they would not be in my employ.’

She ignored that. ‘And he did offer.’

‘To go to Beechgrove? I did not hear him say so, until you asked him.’

‘Not to go to Beechgrove, I did not mean that. I heard you talking to him before I came in. He said he would do the honourable thing.’

‘You did not take that seriously, surely?’

‘Why not? He is handsome and wealthy, judging by the equipage he arrived in, and your father knew his grandfather, so he must be of some consequence.’

‘What is that to the point? We know nothing about him. I seem to remember some scandal which made it necessary for him to leave the country.’

‘Pooh, to that. You forget my papa had to do the same thing and you did not hold that against me.’

He laughed. ‘That was not your fault.’

‘And whatever it is may not have been Mr Melhurst’s fault. You should not judge him before you know the truth, James.’

He laughed suddenly. ‘And supposing Beth is not compliant. She is a true Dersingham and a more stubborn one I have yet to meet. She will not be driven.’

‘Oh, James, credit me with a little more sense than that. I am merely making it possible for the acquaintanceship to blossom. Harriet is bound to be grateful and will invite him to call again.’

‘On the other hand, the gentleman might consider Beth too much of a hoyden for his taste and decline.’

‘He has seen the worst of her and now we must show him the best. I do not consider Beth a hoyden, she is intelligent and spirited and very beautiful when she is properly dressed.’

‘And is she properly dressed now?’

‘I believe so. I left her with Rose who has found one of my gowns for her.’

‘Then send for her.’

‘You are not going to give her a jobation, are you, James? She knows how bad she has been and is full of remorse. Scolding her will not make her more compliant—it might even drive her to be more outrageous.’

‘I cannot ignore what she has done.’

‘No, but be gentle with her, James. If it had not been for you sending Toby away as if he had caused some dreadful scandal, she would not have felt misused.’

‘I was endeavouring to prevent a scandal.’

‘Beth is not in love with Mr Kendall, James, there was nothing improper in their relationship. She finds him interesting because of his love and knowledge of botany, a passion she shares. You should talk to her about it, you might be surprised at how much she knows on the subject.’

‘You are telling me I have made a mull of it.’

She laughed lightly. ‘I would not dare to criticise the great Duke of Belfont, known for his wisdom and good sense. Why, even the King listens to your advice.’

He smiled at her flummery and turned as the door opened and Beth made her way into the room and curtsied before him, bending her head very low so that he could only see the shining top of her coiffure.

‘Sit down, Beth,’ he commanded. ‘I am glad to see you safely here.’

She sat and waited.

‘You must be hungry,’ Sophie said, ringing the hand bell at her side.

‘A little.’ She was more than a little hungry—she had not eaten since the evening before and she was ravenous. It was why she had taken her courage in her hands and come down. Even then she had paused outside the door before entering and it was how she came to hear all their conversation. She was disappointed in her aunt. Not only had she seen fit to tell the Duke everything, she seemed to be determined to marry her off to Mr Melhurst and that was something she would never consider, even though he appeared to have offered. Surely one short ride in an enclosed coach had not compromised her reputation to such an extent?

She did not even like him, he was pompous with her while he toadied to her uncle when he had promised to try and keep the Duke out of it. And what was that about a scandal and having to live abroad? Did that mean he had done something terrible? Had he wrecked some other lady’s reputation? Had he cheated at cards? Had he killed someone in a duel? She would not put any of those past him. Did he suppose she had a vast dowry? If Mr Andrew Melhurst thought he would be marrying a wealthy heiress, he was very mistaken; her uncle was generous, but not so as to make her wealthy. Besides, even if Mr Melhurst was the soul of virtue, she would never agree; he was the symbol of her mortification. She refused to listen to the tiny voice of reason that was telling her she was being unjust.

A servant arrived in answer to the Duchess’s summons. ‘Tell Didoner we are ready for supper now,’ she instructed him.

Beth would rather have had something in her room, and had opened her mouth to say so, but then she saw her aunt slowly shaking her head and realised she was going to have to endure a meal with the Duke, who would either ignore her as if she were not there or subject her to a roasting all the way through the meal. She was not sure which would be worse.

In the event, he did neither. Didoner, their French chef, was a perfectionist and the meals he produced were always first class, whether they were for the Duke and Duchess alone, or a vast company, and Beth did hers justice. There was turbot and shrimps, game and ham, not to mention dishes of vegetables, each cooked in a different way. There was fruit and puddings and tartlets and a light bubbly wine.

‘Now,’ said the Duke when they had all be served and the servants had withdrawn to wait outside the door until summoned. ‘I am led to believe that it is your love of growing things that has led to this contretemps.’

‘No, my lord, the contretemps was caused by Mr Kendall being summarily sent away.’

‘Beth!’ Sophie exclaimed, anxious that her niece’s forthright tongue would not shatter her husband’s good mood. No one, except perhaps the King, spoke to James in that fashion.

‘I am sorry,’ she said. ‘But if only you had told me…’

‘I am not in the habit of consulting those over whom I hold sway when I have a decision to make. Your mama was concerned about your continuing friendship with Mr Kendall and asked my advice.’

‘Surely Toby told you there was nothing to be concerned about. We both knew he would leave one day, but not until he was ready. He had plants in the glass house he was tending, and others he was experimenting with out of doors to see if they would survive in our climate. And there were plans to make, proper plans with equipment to buy, an itinerary and goals to decide. I was going to be part of that.’

‘Not go with him?’

She smiled suddenly. ‘I knew that would never be allowed, but if the time ever comes when I am independent I should like to go on an expedition, properly escorted, of course. I should like to study exotic plants in their own habitat, collect specimens and seeds to bring back. That is how you obtained those wonderful shrubs you have in your own garden and conservatory, is it not? Someone had to bring them to this country.’

‘Yes, but not a woman.’ His severe look softened. ‘It appears that I have misjudged you, my dear, but are plants all you think of? Surely you sometimes dream of a husband and children? You are very good with Jamie and he adores you.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘Though he is to blame for telling me you had arrived. He heard your voice and left his bed to greet you.’

‘It was Jamie?’

‘Yes. Did you hope I would not discover your presence in my house?’

‘No,’ Sophie put in quickly, before Beth could confirm that. ‘But we hoped to defer it until the morning. I was not expecting you back until late.’

‘The King decided he would visit Lady Conyngham and no longer needed me. I think he realises I disapprove of his affairs especially since he came to the throne. In any event, it enabled me to look forward to an evening at home with you, my dear. I was never so put out as when I saw a strange man in my drawing room, chatting gaily to my son as if he belonged here.’

‘He is the sort to make himself at home anywhere,’ Beth put in. ‘A more self-opinionated man, I have yet to meet.’

‘Not self-opinionated,’ her aunt said. ‘Self-assured would be more accurate and perhaps he has had to be, travelling the world as he has.’

‘You travelled all over the place and it did not make you arrogant,’ Beth said, referring to the fact that Sophie had been dragged all over the continent with her parents before they both died in exile and she came back to England to throw herself on the mercy of her mother’s cousin, who just happened to fall in love with her and marry her.

‘Let us leave the subject of Mr Melhurst’s character,’ James said, spearing a piece of succulent ham on his fork. ‘It is getting us nowhere. The important thing is what is to be done.’

Beth was about to tell him that if he thought he could marry her off willy-nilly, he was way off the mark, but thought better of it and remained silent.

‘We have sent for your mama,’ the Duchess told her. ‘If she is able to come at once, she should be here the day after tomorrow, or perhaps Friday. Until she arrives, you must stay indoors. It must look as though you all arrived together.’

‘Very well,’ Beth agreed, though the prospect of spending three days confined to the house was not one she relished. She had always been one for the outdoors, walking, riding and gardening, none of which would be easy in South Audley Street. ‘But the servants know I am here…’

‘They know better than to gossip, certainly not outside these four walls,’ her uncle told her.

But they bargained without the strange way the ton had of finding things out and passing them on, adding their own embellishments for good measure.

Chapter Three

As Andrew’s carriage turned into the driveway of Beechgrove, he leaned forward for a view of the house. It was a solid mansion, square in shape, made of warm red brick. Its gleaming windows reflected the morning sun, which slanted across pristine gardens. The lawns were well manicured, the flower beds without a weed and the shrubs and trees were tastefully arranged to show off their shape and colours. Some, he noted, came from lands across the sea, but seemed to be thriving. He supposed it was Miss Harley’s influence and then, remembering her soiled fingernails, smiled to himself and decided she was not above doing some of the work herself.

He had found himself thinking of her throughout the long night, wondering what her uncle had said to her and what punishment he had inflicted. He supposed she deserved some punishment for putting herself in jeopardy and worrying her family, but she had been impetuous rather than wicked. Her uncle, in his opinion, had not handled the situation well. He wondered what her mother was like and how he would be received. If the Duke was anything to go by, she would be proud. Her daughter wasn’t proud though. Miss Harley was a scapegrace, self-willed, oblivious to the niceties of convention, but not top lofty. And that extraordinary disguise! He almost laughed aloud. Had she really imagined she looked like a boy?

And what had possessed him to offer for her? He had been in her company less than an hour and in that time they had fought and argued and finally conversed, but only about botany and travel, which was hardly enough of an acquaintanceship on which to base an offer of marriage. He must have been mad. Thank goodness the Duke had not taken him seriously. Or perhaps he had, but had decided he did not meet his exacting standards as a husband for his niece.

But that vision at the top of the stairs had unsettled him. She had looked so feminine, so lovely, she had taken his breath away. He could not get her out of his head. Whenever he tried to turn his mind to other subjects, she was there, plaguing him for the most part, giving him her opinion of whatever it was he contemplated doing, whether it was deciding to change horses at a particular inn or what to order to eat, or whether he should transplant his botanical specimens in good garden loam or mix it with clay and manure. How did he know what her opinion would be? he asked himself and the only answer he could find was that he just knew. It was uncanny.

He heard galloping hooves and, glancing across the park, he saw a young lady riding hell for leather for the six-barred gate that divided the park from the drive. She cleared it magnificently, but it was not her fearless riding that made him gasp in shock but the girl herself. In the moment when she had launched herself and her mount at the gate, he thought it was Beth who had somehow transported herself from London to Sudbury ahead of him. Reason told him it was not possible and when the young lady reined in to turn towards him he realised it was not Beth, but someone extraordinarily like her. Her sister, he decided, as she trotted towards the carriage, which his driver had sensibly brought to a halt.

‘Good morning,’ she called to him. ‘You are an early caller, I am not sure Mama will be ready to receive you.’

He put his head out of the door and smiled. Although very like her sister, she was younger by a couple of years, her hair was lighter, her eyes grey, and she still had the adolescent bloom of the schoolgirl about her, but she was confident and not at all shy. Now, why did that not surprise him? ‘Miss Olivia Harley, I presume?’

‘Yes, how did you know?’

‘You are very like your sister.’

‘You have seen her?’ she asked eagerly. ‘You know where she is?’

‘Yes, she is safe with your uncle at Belfont House.’

‘Oh, thank the good Lord. Our mother was sure she would come back yesterday because she left a note to say she would be and she sent Mr Kendall, our steward, to Sudbury to meet all the coaches, but when Beth did not come, she was almost out of her mind. She will be greatly relieved by your news.’ She did not wait for a reply, but added. ‘Follow me to the house, if you please, and you may tell Mama yourself.’

She set off up the drive at a decorous trot and dismounted at the side of the house, handing her horse over to a groom. Andrew’s carriage pulled up at the front door where he alighted and she conducted him into a wide hall that smelled pleasantly of spring flowers and beeswax.

‘Mama! Mama!’ she shouted, mounting the stairs two at a time, grabbing the skirt of her habit in both hands and revealing trim breeches tucked into riding boots. ‘Beth is safe!’

Andrew smiled. She and her sister made a pair when it came to hoydenish behaviour. Was that how they had been brought up? Was their mother the same?

He was disabused of that idea when Lady Harley appeared at the top of the stairs. She was in an undress robe of blue silk, her hair loosely tied by a ribbon, but there was no mistaking the aristocrat, even though she was anxious about her daughter.

‘Livvy, do you have to shout?’ she queried. ‘And if Beth is home, where is she? Hiding from me, I shouldn’t wonder, considering the torment she has put me through.’ She stopped suddenly when she saw Andrew looking up at her from the hall. ‘Oh. Who are you?’

She started to descend as he made his bow. ‘Andrew Melhurst, my lady. I have come from Belfont House. You daughter is safe with her uncle, the Duke.’

She had reached ground level and came towards him, smiling. ‘Thank goodness for that, though he is the last person I would expect her to apply to.’

He smiled. ‘She did not exactly apply to him, my lady. I am afraid I gave her no choice.’

‘Oh, dear, you are confusing me. I did not sleep last night and my brain must be a little fuddled. Do come into the drawing room and I will order refreshment and then you may tell me the whole. And do not keep anything back.’ She was leading the way into a large airy room that looked out on to the garden at the back, which was a riot of spring flowers. Livvy, so consumed by curiosity she ignored the fact that she was wearing riding boots and her habit was dragging on the carpet, followed them. ‘You see, I know my daughter very well and I know how headstrong she can be. Do sit down.’ She waved him to a sofa and he folded his long frame into it. ‘Livvy, don’t stand there gaping like a fish out of water, go and change. And before you do, please tell Mrs Jobson to bring coffee and cakes. Or would you rather have breakfast, Mr Melhurst? I can easily arrange it.’

‘Thank you, but I had breakfast at an inn in Sudbury before I came.’

‘Have you come straight from Belfont House?’

‘Yes, my lady. The Duke was most anxious you should be relieved of your anxiety, as was Miss Harley,’ he added, though why he should try to mitigate what she had done, he did not know.

‘And no doubt you have driven through the night. Oh, how grateful I am, but you must be fatigued—’

‘Not at all my lady. I was able to doze in my coach and I am accustomed to going without sleep. Think no more of it.’

A servant arrived with refreshments; though it was evident Lady Harley was anxious to have news of her daughter, politeness dictated that she must wait until he had been given refreshment. They were shortly joined by Livvy, now in a light silk dress the colour of the daffodils that bloomed so freely in the garden. She sat down next to her mother and leaned forward, agog to hear all about Beth’s adventures.