The Mysterious Miss Fairchild

‘Are you newly come to Bath, my lord?’ she ventured.

‘I arrived in Bath two days ago.’

His reply was curt, but she excused him since the movement of the dance was about to separate them. When they came back together, she tried again.

‘You are perhaps an acquaintance of my uncle?’

‘I never met him before in my life.’ Natalya looked at him in surprise and he continued, ‘The Master of Ceremonies introduced us. I wanted to dance with you, you see.’

He smiled suddenly and she almost missed a step. Quickly she dragged her gaze away from him. She felt winded by the effect that smile had upon her. It transformed his face, warming his eyes, inviting her to smile back. It was a new experience for Natalya. She was at once frightened and excited. Exhilarated. Heavens, so this was the sensation that changed females from rational beings into simpering, giggling idiots. She had always scoffed when other girls had spoken of it and now here she was, blushing and tongue-tied merely because a man had smiled at her.

‘How, how flattering,’ was all she could manage to utter.

Thankfully, they separated again and she assumed what she hoped was a look of polite enjoyment. It was not only to cover her confusion. Aunt and Uncle Pridham did not like her to show interest in any gentleman and they would be closely watching her progress with Lord Dalmorren.

After two dances, Tristan led his partner off the floor, wondering what Freddie saw in Miss Natalya Fairchild. True, she danced gracefully and she had a dark beauty, no doubt about it. She was a little taller than average and her figure was good. Her complexion was flawless and the hair piled upon her head shone like a raven’s wing. Freddie was wrong about her eyes, though, he thought now. They were not black, but a deep, deep brown.

But for all that she lacked personality. She had made nothing but commonplace utterances during their time together. No different from the debutantes one came across in town. Tristan began to feel the familiar ennui creeping over him. In other circumstances he would bow, walk away and forget the chit, but Freddie had declared this was the woman he wanted to marry and, if he was to blurt this out to his doting mother, Katherine would immediately apply to Tristan as joint guardian for advice. Clearly, then, he must discover something he could pass on.

He glanced now at the young lady on his arm, trying to be charitable. Perhaps she was shy. When he had observed her from across the room she had looked animated enough, talking and laughing with her friend, but it was possible she was overawed by the occasion and needed to grow a little accustomed to his presence.

‘Perhaps, Miss Fairchild, you would do me the honour of standing up with me again before the end of the evening.’

‘Alas, my lord, that is not possible. My aunt and uncle do not allow me more than two dances with anyone.’

‘I see. Very commendable. Then I shall call upon you in the morning.’

She showed no sign of being flattered by his attentions. There were no maidenly blushes, merely a slight inclination of the head and a cool response.

‘Mrs Pridham will be delighted to see you, I am sure, but you will not find me at home. I shall be at my drawing lesson tomorrow morning.’

‘Later in the day, then.’

‘I shall be studying astronomy.’

‘Wednesday?’

‘I have dancing lessons in the morning and botany in the afternoon. And Thursday,’ she added, after an infinitesimal pause, ‘I study politics, currently Russia’s part in the recent wars.’

Tristan bit back an oath, but not quite quickly enough, and she gave a choke of laughter.

‘Oh, dear! Pray do not take it personally, my lord. I am telling you nothing but the truth. My days are indeed very busy.’

‘If you are trying to discourage me, Miss Fairchild, you are succeeding admirably!’

‘I am? Oh, dear. I am speaking no more than the truth. My aunt and uncle are eager that I should continue to improve my mind. I play chess regularly, too.’ She looked up at him, dispelling any notion that she was shy. ‘Does the idea of an educated female frighten you, my lord?’

Her face was alive with mischief and he felt a sudden drumbeat of alarm.

By heaven, that look is enchanting! It is no wonder Freddie is smitten.

He wanted to respond, to continue the conversation, but Mrs Pridham came bustling up.

‘Ah, Natalya. There you are, my dear!’

He saw the laughter fade from those dark eyes as her aunt took her arm.

‘Have you forgotten this next dance is promised to Lord Fossbridge?’ Mrs Pridham turned to Tristan, bestowing on him a smile that was somewhat forced. ‘I am sorry I must carry her away, my lord, but you understand how it is.’

In his mind he quickly sorted through the persons Mr King had presented to him that evening. If he remembered correctly, Fossbridge was an aged fellow, old enough to be Natalya’s grandfather. Certainly not his rival. Or rather, not Freddie’s rival, he corrected himself. His interest in Miss Fairchild was purely on behalf of his nephew.

He bowed. ‘I understand perfectly, ma’am. However…’ Mrs Pridham halted and gave him an enquiring look ‘…Miss Fairchild has been telling me of her interest in astronomy. May I be so bold as to invite you both—and Mr Pridham, naturally—to join me as my guests at Mr Walker’s lecture this Friday? It is to be held at the Exhibition Rooms in Bond Street. As you know, ma’am, I am newly arrived in Bath and to attend such an event alone…’

He let the words hang, his tone of voice and expression inviting her to sympathise with him. As he had hoped, Mrs Pridham was flustered, torn between a flat refusal and wanting to oblige him.

‘Why—why, that is very kind of you, my lord. We had not thought. That is—’

Tristan cut in ruthlessly. ‘I am delighted that you have accepted, ma’am, thank you. I shall call at Sydney Place in good time to convey you all to the lecture.’

With a smile and a bow, he walked away before she could say more. Now all he had to do was to recall where the devil he had seen the advertisement for the lecture and obtain tickets, which at this late stage might require him to pay out an extortionate amount to persuade someone to give up their seats. He would also need to hire a carriage grand enough and large enough to convey them all to the Exhibition Rooms. The Dalmorren travelling chaise would not do at all, since it could not accommodate more than two persons.

His eyes narrowed slightly and he muttered grimly, ‘I hope you appreciate what I am doing for you, Freddie. And I hope she is worth it!’

Chapter Two

On Friday evening, Natalya dutifully made her way to her aunt’s bedchamber at the front of the house for approval. She stood for a moment, regarding herself in the cheval mirror, then turned about so quickly that the skirts of her pink muslin flew out like an umbrella.

‘Well, Aunt, will I do?’

She threw a slightly defiant look at Mrs Pridham, who was watching her with a critical eye.

‘Very pretty, my dear,’ she said at last.

Natalya put a hand to the lace shawl that covered her shoulders.

‘Do I really need to wear a fichu? The neckline is very modest.’

‘Your uncle and I would prefer you not to draw the attention of all and sundry tonight.’

‘Really, Aunt, I am at a loss to know why you buy me fashionable gowns, if you do not wish me to attract attention.’

‘You need to learn all the graces, my dear, and that includes how to dress to advantage.’

‘But why, ma’am?’ Natalya pressed her. ‘For what role am I being prepared?’

‘Why, to be a lady, my dear, what else?’ Her aunt’s eyes slid away from Natalya’s questioning look. ‘Goodness, is that the time? Lord Dalmorren will be here soon and I have not yet finished my preparations. Oh, well, Mr Pridham must entertain him, when he comes!’

‘I could go down, Aunt, since I am ready.’ Natalya knew her suggestion would be rejected, but she made it all the same.

‘Without a chaperon? Good heavens, no.’

‘But why not? He can hardly seduce me in your drawing room, with servants just outside the door.’

‘This is no time for frivolity, Natalya,’ was the crisp reply. ‘A young lady can never be too careful about her reputation, especially one in your situation. Now, enough chattering. Off you go to your room and let me get on.’

Natalya left her, but instead of returning to her room she paused on the landing, staring out of the window, across the street towards the lush green of Sydney Gardens. It made no sense. Her education had been equal, if not better than most young men would receive, Bath’s finest modistes supplied her gowns with no thought to the cost, but she could not see that the purpose of this was to find her a husband.

When she had left school and joined the Pridhams in Bath she had been seventeen years old, eager and excited about the future. She had asked them if she was to have a London Season, only to be told that it was not necessary. They had given no reason, merely told her that Bath held sufficient amusements. Amusements, yes, but to what end? She had spent the last four years in Bath and any gentleman who showed the slightest interest in her was positively discouraged.

A movement caught her attention and she looked down as a large coach and four drew up at their door and Lord Dalmorren emerged. She smiled when she recalled how his invitation to them all to go to the astronomy lecture had taken Mrs Pridham by surprise. He had given her no time to utter a refusal and Natalya appreciated his ruthless tactics, but her smile faded as she watched him disappear into the house. It was not that she did not want to attend the lecture, but she remembered how she had reacted to His Lordship’s attentions on the dance floor. How his smile had caused her heart to behave most alarmingly. It would be difficult to relax and enjoy herself when she knew her aunt and uncle would be watching and listening for the slightest hint of a flirtation between herself and Lord Dalmorren.

As instructed, Natalya waited until the Pridhams had both gone down to the drawing room before she made her appearance. Her uncle was talking with Lord Dalmorren, who did no more than incline his head in greeting when Natalya came in. Almost immediately Mrs Pridham suggested they should be going, saying she would not want to keep His Lordship’s horses standing any longer than necessary in such a cold wind.

Lord Dalmorren handed the ladies into the waiting carriage with polite civility. He said nothing on the short journey to Bond Street and when they reached the Exhibition Rooms, he took a seat at the end of the row, next to Mr Pridham. Natalya should have felt relieved that he had shown no interest in her at all. Instead she felt a vague disappointment. But why should she be disappointed? She had done nothing to ingratiate herself with him at the Assembly Rooms. Why, he had even suggested that she was trying to discourage him! She peeped along the row. He was deep in conversation with her uncle. Perhaps he really did want company this evening, yet she found it difficult to believe that a gentleman as self-assured as His Lordship would be ill at ease in attending a lecture alone. He was an ainigma, as her Greek tutor used to say.

At the interval everyone moved into the next room, where refreshments were set out on a long table. There were no seats and in the crowded room the Pridhams were soon drawn into conversation with an acquaintance, leaving Natalya to drink her tea with Lord Dalmorren. Good manners dictated that they should not stand in silence.

‘It is certainly very full tonight,’ she remarked, looking about her. ‘There is not a seat to be had. You were fortunate to obtain four tickets at such short notice, my lord. I understand they were in great demand.’

‘I was, wasn’t I?’

She was not fooled by his bland reply and could not resist asking him if he had been obliged to purchase them from other ticket holders.

‘Now why should I want to go to so much trouble?’

‘That I do not know,’ she said, seriously considering the question. ‘I cannot think you are trying to fix your interest with me.’ She met his eyes and flushed a little. ‘Pray do not think this is any false modesty on my part, I am aware I did not particularly shine at the Upper Rooms on Monday and I do not have the advantages of birth or a fortune to recommend me.’

‘No, you do not.’

She gave an uncertain laugh. ‘Goodness, that is blunt speaking indeed. You are nothing if not honest, my lord!’

‘I beg your pardon, but from the little I know of you I believe you prefer honesty, so I am compelled to say that I came to Bath for the sole purpose of seeking you out, after a young relative of mine mentioned you to me. Frederick Erwin.’

‘Oh, Mr Erwin!’ Natalya recalled now where she had heard Lord Dalmorren’s name before. It explained that feeling of recognition, too. Freddie’s eyes were more blue than grey and his hair much fairer, but there was a definite similarity between the two men. She smiled. ‘Ah, yes. I hope he is well?’

‘Very well. He is paying a visit to his mother at present. In Surrey.’

‘Oh. I thought he had gone to town.’

‘No, he came to Dalmorren to see me. He is my ward, you see. His mother and I are joint guardians of his inheritance which, by the bye, will not be under his control for another four years.’

Understanding dawned and, with it, indignation. She said, ‘Are you telling me this in case I have…designs…upon Freddie?’

She did not miss the faint look of surprise when she said the name. Why should she not? She and Freddie were friends, and it was His Lordship’s mistake if he thought it suggested they were anything more. How dare he be so presumptuous!

‘And do you?’

His words were a challenge and she felt a flash of anger, but before she could respond Mrs Pridham was at her side and she could do no more than send the odious man a glare of rebuke.

‘People are beginning to return to their seats, Natalya. Shall we go in?’

There was no jockeying for position, but Natalya could never afterwards explain how she found herself sitting between Lord Dalmorren and the Pridhams. A glance showed they were not pleased with the situation, but short of her aunt insisting they should exchange seats and causing the sort of disturbance they abhorred, there was nothing to be done. Natalya put up her chin and stared pointedly at the lectern, waiting for the speaker to appear.

‘To continue our conversation,’ Lord Dalmorren murmured, ‘I was about to ask how well you know my nephew.’

‘Mr Erwin is a very charming gentleman. I would like to think we are friends.’

She was about to add that they were nothing more than friends, when her aunt’s fan came down in a sharp tap on her arm.

‘Enough talk now. Mr Walker is about to speak again.’

Natalya lapsed into silence. She fixed her attention upon the speaker, but the seats were very close and she was painfully aware of Lord Dalmorren beside her. The slightest move and her shoulder brushed his sleeve. She could not help glancing at his muscular thigh, only inches from her own. The man was like a magnet, drawing her closer, and it was an effort not to lean against him. The idea was unsettling. Disturbing. It was also very annoying, because Natalya considered herself an intelligent, sensible female. She was not given to fanciful ideas and had often mocked her schoolfriends when they sighed and pined over some man.

With great determination she dragged her attention back to Mr Walker and tried to concentrate upon his talk. The only stars that interested her were in the night sky, not in her eyes!

Despite her best efforts, during the days that followed, Natalya could not forget Lord Dalmorren. She found herself thinking about him almost constantly. When someone mentioned his name to the Pridhams as they came out from church, she strained her ears to listen. She learned the Dalmorrens were an ancient family and a rich one, so the Pridhams could not object to his lineage or his fortune. Why, then, were they so loath to pursue the acquaintance? Why were they keeping her a virtual prisoner?

Natalya had always been chaperoned, but for a whole week following Mr Walker’s lecture her aunt or uncle insisted upon escorting her personally to and from her various lessons. Mr Pridham even decided they should forgo all evening engagements. It was thus over a week later that she and Lord Dalmorren met again.

It was the regular Monday ball at the Assembly Rooms and she spotted his tall figure across the room. She thought he might ignore her. After all, he had not called at the house and had made no attempt to see her since the lecture. He had thought she wanted to marry Freddie. Perhaps he had realised it was not the case and no longer had any interest in her.

Natalya’s disappointment at that thought was severe. Not because she felt any particular liking for him, she told herself, but since Freddie Erwin had left Bath there were so few young gentlemen for her to dance with, certainly none as accomplished as Lord Dalmorren. That was all it was. A very natural wish to dance with someone who was neither a schoolboy nor an octogenarian.

Aunt Pridham pinched her arm. ‘Lord Dalmorren is coming over,’ she hissed. ‘After accepting his invitation to Mr Walker’s lecture, we could not refuse when he asked if he might dance with you. Goodness knows I suppose he must entertain himself somehow while he is in Bath, but you will not encourage him, Natalya, do you understand me?’

And there he was, standing before her, smiling and looking even more handsome than she remembered.

‘This is our dance, I believe, Miss Fairchild.’

Her chin went up and the tiny spark of rebellion within flickered a little brighter. Why should she not encourage Lord Dalmorren? Why should she not enjoy a man’s attentions, even a mild flirtation, if it were offered? What harm could there be in it?

Then he smiled and, when she felt the full force of his charm, all her rebellious spirit faded like mist before the sun. She was so nervous around this man she doubted if she would even be able to dance, let alone flirt with him!

Natalya took his arm and accompanied him to the dance floor, just as she had two weeks earlier. This time, however, she was aware that her pulse was beating a little faster and she was far more conscious of his presence. Just the touch of his hand made her jump. It was not merely her aunt and uncle’s scrutiny that made her concentrate on her steps. She felt awkward, tongue-tied, as if she might burst into flames if she allowed herself to enjoy the dance. She kept her conversation to the mundane, giving little more than monosyllabic replies, and by the time he escorted her off the floor at the end of the dance she felt thoroughly wretched. Any liking he had for her would surely be at an end.

‘And that is a good thing,’ she told herself as she watched him walk away and solicit the hand of pretty, blonde-haired Verena Summerton for the next dance. ‘Aunt and Uncle have told me he is only amusing himself, which I knew already. He as good as told me that he is in Bath to ascertain if I am a suitable bride for his nephew. No, my girl. You might find him charming, and amusing and fascinating, but you had much better stay away from him if you do not want to find yourself weeping into your pillow at nights!’

It was a noble resolve and Natalya found it quite easy to keep to it until the end of the evening. She had no partner for the last two dances and the Pridhams were signalling to her from across the room. She had just begun to make her way around the edge of the dance floor towards them when Lord Dalmorren stepped in front of her.

‘Will you honour me, Miss Fairchild, by joining me for the next set?’

You have another chance. He wants to dance with you again!

She knew she should refuse, but the words would not come, for he was smiling down at her and all she could think of was how much she wanted to dance with him. Silently she gave him her hand and allowed him to guide her to the remaining space in one of the sets that was forming.

Natalya fixed her eyes on the top button of her partner’s waistcoat, not daring to look at the Pridhams. They would be angry and she would have to endure a tremendous scold on the way home, but that was later. Now she was determined to enjoy herself. She would show him that she was no brainless ninny. She would impress him with her intelligence and wit. At least, she would if she could drag her gaze away from that waistcoat.

‘I do not think I have ever known a lady so busy,’ he remarked, as they waited for the music to begin. ‘Your every waking hour appears to be occupied.’

‘My aunt and uncle are anxious for me to improve myself by extensive study.’

‘And consequently, you do not have a moment to yourself.’

‘They are at pains to hire the very best tutors for me.’ She added after a moment, ‘Even my attendance at these assemblies is part of my education.’

‘Is it, by heaven!’

‘Why, yes. Every young lady needs to be able to dance.’

‘Every young lady needs to be able to converse in a sensible manner,’ he retorted.

That stung, all the more because she recognised the justice of it. Natalya threw him an angry look, but the dance had begun and she was obliged to hold her tongue as they stepped and turned and circled, but when the dance brought them back together, she immediately assured him that she could converse sensibly.

‘Every attempt to talk to you at the Exhibition Rooms was frustrated by your aunt and uncle. How is an acquaintance to progress under such circumstances?’

Thank heavens they separated at that point, for Natalya felt her cheeks growing hot with a flush of quite irrational pleasure. Was it possible he still wanted to become better acquainted with her, despite her dismal attempts at conversation? The idea nagged at her as the dance progressed to its conclusion.

At that point she half-expected her uncle to come and drag her from the dance floor, but when that did not happen she stood, tongue-tied, waiting for the second dance to begin.

‘I agree, a lecture is hardly the place for idle chatter,’ Lord Dalmorren continued as if there had been no break in their conversation. ‘However, discussion should follow, at some point, perhaps even debate, if the lecture was sufficiently interesting. Are you never allowed to speak to anyone?’

‘Of course! I am not a prisoner.’

Even as she uttered the words, Natalya remembered how confined she had been this past week. She glanced across the room to where her aunt and uncle were standing. They were watching her with ill-concealed rage that she had disobeyed them. She knew she was kept very close, but that had never worried her before. Her friends had told her of flirtations involving stolen moments and secret assignations, away from the critical gaze of chaperons, but Natalya had never wished to slip off and meet someone.

Until now. The idea was unsettling, but it could not be ignored and she discovered that the small spark of rebellion had not quite been extinguished. When the music finally stopped and her partner reached for her hand to escort her off the floor, she drew a deep breath.