Читать книгу Regency Surrender: Infamous Reputations - Sarah Mallory - Страница 12
ОглавлениеHaving decided to pursue the heiress, Richard lost no time in making his plans. The Bath season did not start until October, but he was determined not to wait until then to advance his acquaintance with Miss Ellen Tatham. At breakfast the following morning he made his first move.
‘Do you wish me to come to the Pump Room with you again today, Sophia?’
‘Thank you, no. Duffy had the offending tooth removed yesterday and is quite recovered now. You must have more entertaining things to do than attend an old lady.’
‘It is always a pleasure to escort you, ma’am. And I was heartened to find that not all those attending the Pump Room are valetudinarians. Lady Phyllida, for example.’
‘Yes. She’s a quiet gel, but very sensible, and makes a good partner at whist. I have always liked her.’
This was very encouraging. He said, ‘You knew her before she came to Bath?’
‘We have mutual acquaintances in Derbyshire, near Tatham Park. I met her there often when Sir Evelyn was alive. Glad to see she is out of mourning now and back in the world where she belongs.’
‘What’s her background?’ Lady Hune shot him a swift, suspicious glance and he added quickly, ‘Lady Phyllida looks familiar, and I would judge her age to be similar to my own. I thought perhaps I might know her.’
‘She is possibly twelve months your junior. One of the Earl of Swanleigh’s two girls. The elder married Lord Hapton and Swanleigh wanted a similar success for Phyllida. She was presented in...let me see...’ninety-six and caught the eye of Sir Evelyn, who was then a widower and looking for a new wife to give him an heir. They were married within the year. Of course there was a lot of talk, but those who prophesied disaster were only half right. The hoped-for heir never materialised but the marriage seemed happy enough. When Tatham died last year it was assumed Lady Phyllida would go to live with her sister or with Tatham’s brother and dwindle into mediocrity as some sort of live-in companion, little more than a glorified servant. But give the girl her due, she refused to relinquish her independence. She retired to her house in Derbyshire for her period of mourning.’
‘And now she is in Bath.’
‘Yes. She has taken a house in Charles Street for herself and her stepdaughter.’ Sophia shook her head, adding darkly, ‘How that will work out I don’t know.’
‘Ninety-six.’ Richard’s brow creased in thought. ‘Hmm, seven years ago. I had left Oxford and was in town then.’
‘Aye, you were, and already kicking up a dust!’
‘I must have danced with her. Trouble is, ma’am, I danced with a deuced lot of young ladies in those days.’
‘It’s no wonder if you don’t remember her. Her looks were never out of the ordinary, nothing to attract you. Tatham, however, was desperate for an heir. I think he would have taken anyone.’ She looked up, saying sternly, ‘She is a fine young woman, Richard, and I count her a friend. I would not have you doing anything to upset her.’
He looked pained.
‘I promise you I have no intention of upsetting her.’
* * *
No, he had no intention of upsetting anyone, he thought, as he presented himself at the freshly painted front door in Charles Street later that day. He was shown into the drawing room, where Lady Phyllida received him with cool politeness.
He bowed. ‘I was pleased, yesterday, to renew my acquaintance with you, my lady.’ Her brows went up and he continued smoothly, ‘We met in town did we not, at your come-out. We danced together at Almack’s.’
This was a chance shot but he thought it had hit its mark. An added flush of colour painted her cheeks, but she spread her hands and gave him an apologetic smile.
‘I vow I cannot recall. I know my mother bullied every gentleman present to stand up with me, however reluctantly.’
‘There was no reluctance upon my part, ma’am, I assure you.’
‘But after, what is it...five years, six?...I am flattered that you should remember.’
She doesn’t believe me.
Richard kept his smile in place as he met her gaze. He had thought yesterday her eyes were grey but he saw now that they were flecked with green and her look was surprisingly direct. He had a sudden urge to tell the truth and confess that he didn’t remember her at all. Impossible, of course. He must hold his nerve.
She invited him to sit down.
‘How are you enjoying Bath?’ he asked her as he lowered himself into a chair opposite her own.
‘Very much. After the isolation of Tatham Park, Bath seems very busy.’
‘And will you put your name down in the book when the subscription opens later this month? That is necessary, I believe, if you wish to attend balls in the Upper Rooms?’
‘I shall indeed.’
‘But there is still dancing to be had, even now,’ he persisted. ‘There is a ridotto on Monday night, did you know of it?’
‘Yes, I am taking Ellen.’
‘Then we will be able to dance together again.’
The tell-tale rosiness deepened on her cheek.
‘I am going as Ellen’s chaperon, Mr Arrandale. I shall not dance.’
There was a wistful note in her voice. Faint, but he detected it.
‘Is it in the rules that widows are prohibited from dancing? I have never heard of it.’
Now why the devil had he said that? It was not the widow he wanted to dance with.
* * *
Phyllida’s nerves fluttered. Had she been mistaken? Had he really remembered standing up with her at Almack’s? She stole another look at him. He was being perfectly charming. Perhaps the lines that creased his lean cheeks might be caused by laughter rather than dissipation and wild living, despite the gossip. She did not think they detracted from his charm, either. If anything she thought him more attractive than ever, especially when he smiled at one in just that way...
She started guiltily when the door opened and Ellen came in, chattering even as she untied the ribbons of her bonnet.
‘There you are, Philly! Such fun we have had, I wish you had been there to share—oh, I beg your pardon. Hirst did not tell me you had company, but then, I did not give him time!’ She came forward, greeting their guest with her sunny smile and no hint of shyness. ‘Mr Arrandale, good day to you.’
He had jumped up when Ellen appeared and Phyllida watched him greet her, his charming smile and nicely judged bow perfectly civil. Too perfect, she thought, her earlier suspicions rising again.
‘How do you do, Miss Tatham. Have you been shopping, perhaps?’
‘No, sir, I have been to Sydney Gardens with Miss Desborough and her mama. Do you know the Desboroughs, Mr Arrandale?’
‘I’m afraid not, I have not been in Bath that long myself.’
‘Oh, I see. Well, we were introduced yesterday and Penelope and I found ourselves in such accord that Mrs Desborough invited me to join them in a walk to Sydney Gardens today. Oh, I wish you had come with us, Philly, it was quite delightful. The Ride that runs around the perimeter of the gardens is very well laid, so one can keep one’s shoes and feet dry even if the weather has been very inclement. And there is a labyrinth, too, but there was no time to go in and Mrs Desborough says we should buy a plan before we attempt it.’
‘Then we shall do so, when we visit.’ Phyllida smiled.
‘Perhaps I might escort you.’
Phyllida acknowledged Richard’s offer with a slight inclination of her head but she did not encourage him. Unperturbed he returned his attention to Ellen.
‘I understand you are attending the ridotto on Monday, Miss Tatham. I hope you will stand up with me. If your stepmama allows it, of course.’
‘I should be delighted, sir—and you will consent, will you not, Philly?’
Phyllida was tempted to refuse, but Ellen would be sure to demand the reason and she was not at all sure of the answer.
‘Of course,’ she said at last. ‘There can be no harm in you dancing with a gentleman.’ Would he notice the slight stress she put on the last word? ‘After all, the reason for bringing you to Bath was to accustom you to a larger society.’
‘And I have any number of acquaintances in Bath now,’ declared Ellen happily. ‘Not just Penelope Desborough and Julia Wakefield, who are my especial friends. Mrs Desborough was good enough to present several gentlemen to me today when we were in the gardens.’
‘Did she?’ murmured Phyllida, slightly startled by this revelation.
Ellen threw her a mischievous glance. ‘I have no doubt some of them will be seeking you out soon, Philly, for they, too, mentioned the ridotto. However I made it very clear I could not dance with any of them unless they had your approval.’
‘I am glad to hear it.’
‘And you will approve them, will you not, dearest Stepmama?’
For once Phyllida did not feel any inclination to laugh at Ellen’s sauciness. She was aware of Richard watching her and, disconcerted, she responded rather more tartly that she had intended.
‘Since I have approved Mr Arrandale, I doubt I will have any choice with the rest!’
‘But they are all very respectable, Philly, or Mrs Desborough would not have introduced them to me.’
Ellen was gazing at her, puzzled, and Phyllida pulled herself together.
‘No, of course she would not. I am sure they are all pillars of Bath society.’
A scratching at the door diverted her attention and she looked up as Matlock entered the room.
‘Signor Piangi has arrived, my lady. I have put him in the morning room.’
‘Oh, is it time for my Italian lesson already?’ cried Ellen. ‘I will come with you directly, Matty. If you will excuse me, Mr Arrandale.’
He bowed.
‘Until Monday, Miss Tatham.’
Phyllida watched Ellen skip out of the room. Matlock hovered by the door, as if unwilling to leave them alone, but Phyllida waved her away.
‘Go with her, Matty. You will remain in the morning room until the signor leaves.’ Richard was watching her and she added, as the door closed upon them, ‘It is important to me that no hint of impropriety should touch my stepdaughter while she is in Bath.’
He inclined his head. She thought for a moment he would resume his seat but instead he picked up his hat and gloves from the table.
‘I have an appointment I must keep.’ He hesitated. ‘If you and Miss Tatham would like to visit Sydney Gardens on Sunday, I should be very happy to escort you there.’
‘Thank you, sir, but, no. We are, um, otherwise engaged.’
It was not true, and she prayed he would not ask what that engagement might be.
‘Of course. Until Monday, then.’
He bowed and was gone.
Phyllida sank back into her chair, her spirits strangely depressed. She would like to believe that Richard Arrandale had merely come to pay his respects to her, that he had truly remembered dancing with her all those years ago, but she doubted it. After all, she had never been rich enough or pretty enough to attract much attention in her one and only Season. Who wanted a soft well-modulated voice when they could enjoy Miss Anston’s trilling laugh, or Miss Rollinson’s lively tones? The more direct of the mothers with daughters to wed had called her thin and unattractive.
Phyllida gave herself a little shake. That was all in the past. She had lost her girlish ranginess, her glass told her that her willowy form and firm, full breasts showed to advantage in the high-waisted, low-cut gowns that were so fashionable. Yet, for all that, she paled to insignificance when compared to her lovely stepdaughter and she would be a fool to think otherwise.
Richard Arrandale had clearly set his sights upon Ellen. She remembered how he had been watching her in the Pump Room. She might ask Lady Hune to warn him off, but although she was very fond of the indomitable marchioness she could not imagine that Sophia would have much influence over her rakish great-nephew.
No. Phyllida knew it would be up to her to keep Ellen safe.
* * *
Richard strode away down Charles Street, well pleased with his first day’s work. The widow was cautious, which was as it should be, but Ellen was friendly enough. Very young, of course, but a taking little thing. He frowned when he recalled how she had spoken of the fellows in Sydney Gardens clamouring for an introduction. He had no doubt that some—if not all—of them were involved in the wager, but he had the advantage and he intended that it should stay that way. However, he knew better than to rush his fences. He would dance with the chit on Monday night. None of the others were likely to steal her heart before then.
* * *
By the time Phyllida went to bed that night she had made a decision. Jane was waiting to braid her hair and help her to undress, but as soon as she had donned her nightgown Phyllida threw on her silk wrap and went to Ellen’s room.
‘May I come in?’
She peeped around the door. Ellen was already in her bed, propped up against a billowing mass of pillows, reading by the light of a branched candlestick that was burning perilously close to the bed-hangings. As the door opened she jumped and attempted to hide the book under the bedcovers, but when she saw it was Phyllida she heaved a sigh of relief.
‘Oh, it is you. I thought it was Matty.’
‘What are you reading? Is it so very bad?’
Ellen nodded, her eyes shining.
‘Ambrosia, or the Monk,’ she announced with relish. ‘It is quite shocking. When I told Matty she promised to burn it if she found it.’
‘I am not at all surprised. How did you get a copy?
‘Oh, it has been circulating at school for months, but I did not have the opportunity to read it so I brought it with me. You need not worry, Philly, it is the later version, where Mr Lewis has removed the most salacious passages. Although I would dearly like to know what they were, because the story is still quite horrid in places!’
‘Then you should not be reading it.’
Phyllida lunged for the book but Ellen was too quick and thrust it under her pillows, saying loftily, ‘You know Papa decreed that ignorance was the worst of all sins. He always said I could read whatever I wished, as long as I discussed with him or you anything I did not understand.’
With a sigh Phyllida curled up on the end of the bed, unequal to the task of physically struggling with Ellen.
‘Unfortunately I have a lowering suspicion that there is much in Mr Lewis’s Gothic tale that I would not understand,’ she admitted. ‘I am wondering if I have done you a grave disservice in bringing you to Bath, Ellen.’
‘No, how could that be?’ Ellen frowned suddenly. ‘Has Uncle Walter been complaining to you again? Aunt Bridget wrote and invited me to go and stay with them, but I know the only reason she did so is because they do not approve of my coming to live with you.’
‘No, it is nothing like that, but—’ Phyllida stopped, considering her words carefully. ‘There are...dangers in society, Ellen.’
‘What sort of dangers?’
‘Gentlemen will sometimes prey upon innocent young women, especially if they are...’
‘If they are rich,’ finished Ellen, nodding sagely. ‘I am well aware of that. Mrs Ackroyd was at pains to make sure we all knew the risks that gentlemen posed.’ Again that mischievous light twinkled in her blue eyes. ‘She prepared us very well, I think. I may even know more than you, Philly.’
‘That is very possible,’ replied Phyllida, sighing. ‘You have had a very good education and I am sure the teachers told you much about the world, but it is very easy to have one’s head turned and succumb to the attentions of a personable gentleman.’ Phyllida saw the speculative look in Ellen’s eye and added quickly, ‘At least I believe it is so, although I have never experienced it myself.’
‘Poor Philly. Did Papa snabble you up before you could fall in love with anyone?’
‘Yes—no! Ellen, that is not the point.’
Ellen laughed.
‘I think it is very much the point, my love. You were very young and innocent when you became my stepmama, were you not? Seventeen, in fact. As I am now.’
‘Quite. And I was very shy and retiring.’
‘Which I am not, so you may rest easy, my love.’
Phyllida shook her head at her. ‘You may think you know the ways of the world, Ellen, but there are gentlemen in Bath who may seem very pleasant and respectable, yet they are not to be trusted.’
‘Do you mean rakes?’ asked Ellen. ‘There were several residing near the school, hoping one of us would be foolish enough to run off with them. Mrs Ackroyd pointed them out to us.’
‘Heavens, I knew nothing of this!’
‘No, well, I could hardly write and tell you about it, you would have wanted to fetch me away immediately. In fact we had to sit on that sneak Bernice Lingford to stop her from gabbing about the whole. It’s a pity she doesn’t have a fortune, because without some incentive no one will ever want to run off with her.’
‘Ellen!’
‘Well, it is true,’ replied Ellen. ‘She is a spiteful, greedy cat, so no man could like her, even if she wasn’t buck-toothed and fusby-faced.’
‘Let us hope she will grow out of it,’ replied Phyllida, trying to be charitable. ‘However, we are straying from the point—’
‘The point is, Stepmother dear, that we were all perfectly safe at school. That was why Papa chose Mrs Ackroyd’s institution for me, because she is accustomed to having the daughters of the very rich in her care.’ Ellen drew up her knees and wrapped her arms about them. ‘She is very progressive, though, and thinks that education is the best preparation for any young lady making her come-out. She taught us what to expect from a husband, too, because she says mothers invariably make a hash of it. ‘
Phyllida blinked, momentarily silenced by her stepdaughter’s matter-of-fact statement.
‘I am very glad of it,’ she said at last. ‘But I would still urge you to be cautious. It is very easy for a young lady to lose her heart to a rake.’
‘But you said you never had done so,’ objected Ellen.
Phyllida was about to correct her but thought better of it.
Ellen continued thoughtfully, ‘It is not too late, though. We might well find you a husband in Bath.’
‘I do not want a husband! That is not why I came here.’
‘But you said yourself you were lonely at Tatham Park.’
‘That is true, Ellen, but only because I was missing your father. And you. I am very much looking forward to our time here together.’
‘But once I have made my come-out, what then? I have no intention of settling upon a husband too soon but I suppose I must marry at some point and then you will be alone again.’
Phyllida felt the conversation was getting away from her. She said crisply, ‘I am glad you do not intend to rush into marriage with the first young man who takes your fancy, so I need not contemplate my future for a long time yet.’ She slid off the bed. ‘Now, I have said what I wanted to say, although it would seem Mrs Ackroyd has already prepared you for the perils of the world, so I shall leave you to sleep.’ She leaned close to kiss Ellen’s cheek and felt the girl’s arms wind about her neck.
‘Goodnight, my darling stepmama. We shall have such fun in Bath together.’
Phyllida gave Ellen a final hug and made her way back to her own room. The discussion had not gone quite as she had imagined and she was beginning to suspect that looking after Ellen would be far more challenging that she had anticipated.
* * *
The next few days were filled with shopping and visitors. None of the gentlemen Ellen had met in the park were brave enough to call at Charles Street uninvited but when Phyllida took her stepdaughter to the morning service at the Abbey on Sunday it seemed that every one of her acquaintances wished to perform an introduction to Mr This or Sir That. Ellen behaved impeccably, but Phyllida found herself scrutinising every gentleman who came up to her, watching for signs that they might be trying to fix their interest with Ellen. There were several married gentlemen amongst their number, such as Mr Cromby whose jovial, avuncular style was not to her taste. Neither did she warm to the fashionably dressed widower, Sir Charles Urmston, although he appeared to be a favourite of Mrs Desborough, who made the introduction.
Phyllida noticed Lady Hune coming out of the Abbey on the arm of her great-nephew. The dowager looked magnificent, as always, in black and silver but Phyllida’s eyes were drawn to Richard’s lean upright figure. She thought how well the simple lines of the dark coat and light-coloured pantaloons suited him. When he removed his hat to bow to an acquaintance, his short brown hair glinted with gold in the sunlight. He looked like the epitome of a gentleman and she stifled a sigh. How deceptive appearances could be. The marchioness was moving through the crowd towards her carriage, but when she saw Phyllida she stopped and beckoned to her. Ellen was deep in conversation with Julia Wakefield and Phyllida did not call her away, preferring not to bring her into Mr Arrandale’s orbit more than necessary.
Lady Hune greeted Phyllida cordially and invited her to take tea with her later, a singular honour that Phyllida had no hesitation in accepting on behalf of herself and her stepdaughter. Too late did she recall that she had told Richard they were not free. She saw the laughter in his eyes and felt the heat rising to her face.
‘Your previous engagement today has been cancelled, perhaps?’ he murmured.
‘You are promised elsewhere?’ said Lady Hune, overhearing. ‘My dear, you must not break your engagement on my account.’
Phyllida shook her head, saying hastily, ‘I had mistaken the day. We should be delighted to join you, ma’am.’
Richard Arrandale was in no wise discomposed by the fulminating glance she threw at him, merely casting a grin in her direction before he turned aside to greet another acquaintance.
‘I am glad you can come.’ Lady Hune nodded. ‘You will be able to tell me how your charming stepdaughter goes on in Bath. Very well, if appearances are anything to go by.’
Phyllida followed the dowager’s eyes to where Ellen was now part of a lively crowd of young people.
‘She has already made new friends of her own age, Lady Hune.’
‘Which is as it should be—’ The dowager broke off as Ellen and Julia Wakefield ran up, their faces alight with excitement that could barely be contained while they made their curtsies. The old lady’s eyes gleamed with amusement.
‘You are clearly big with news,’ she observed solemnly. ‘You had best get it out before you burst.’
Julia giggled and Ellen, after a blushing smile towards Lady Hune, turned her expressive eyes towards Phyllida.
‘Lady Wakefield says there are the most romantic Gothic ruins just a few miles from Bath at Farleigh Castle. We are on fire to see them and Lady Wakefield says she will set up a riding party, if only you will give your permission, Philly. Dearest, do say I may go. Lord and Lady Wakefield will be accompanying us and Julia has a spare pony that I may ride—’
Laughing, Phyllida put up a hand to stop her.
‘Of course you may go, and there is no need to borrow a horse, for Parfett is even now bringing our own horses from Tatham Park. I thought we might like to ride out occasionally before the weather closes in.’
‘Will you come, too, Lady Phyllida?’ asked Julia in a breathless whisper, ‘It will be delightful if you can, I am sure—’ She broke off, blushing scarlet when she realised her company. ‘And Lady Hune, of course,’ she added hurriedly.
‘My riding days are over,’ replied the dowager, choosing to be amused by Julia’s artlessness.
‘If Lady Wakefield is going with you then you do not need me to come,’ said Phyllida, not wishing to put herself forward. Besides, she had made up her mind not to be a clinging chaperon. ‘You may go off and enjoy yourself with my goodwill.’
Lady Hune turned to Julia.
‘Does your mama know the family at Farleigh House?’ When the girl shook her head the dowager continued. ‘Tell her to write to the housekeeper there, mention my name and I have no doubt she will receive you.’
‘Th-thank you, ma’am,’ stuttered Julia, wide-eyed.
‘Well, off you go and tell your mother to arrange the whole,’ Lady Hune dismissed her impatiently.
Ellen looked to Phyllida and, receiving a nod, she curtsied and ran off after her new friend.
Lady Hune tutted. ‘She will keep you busy, Phyllida.’
‘I think she will, ma’am, but I shall enjoy the distraction, after spending so long alone.’
‘I am glad you are come to Bath. You were too young to be incarcerated at Tatham Park.’ The dowager tapped Phyllida’s arm with one be-ringed finger, saying urgently, ‘Find yourself a husband, Phyllida. You are still young and Tatham left you well provided for, so you need not regard the money. This time you can marry to please yourself.’
Phyllida blushed hotly. ‘I assure you, my lady, I was perfectly happy—’
‘Aye, but no need to tell me it wasn’t a love-match.’
‘Perhaps not, but Sir Evelyn was a kind husband, and I have a duty to his daughter.’
‘Of course, and I know you well enough to be sure you will do your best for the gel, but do not sacrifice your own happiness, Phyllida.’ She looked up as her great-nephew came up.
‘There is a chill wind getting up, ma’am. Shall I escort you to your carriage?’
‘Very well, although I am not so frail that I cannot withstand a little breeze.’ She looked back at Phyllida, a decided twinkle in her faded eyes. ‘You see how I am bullied?’
‘I dare anyone to try and bully you, ma’am.’ Phyllida laughed and without thinking she looked at Richard Arrandale, knowing he would share her amusement. The noise and bustle around them ceased to exist as he drew her in with a smile of genuine warmth. The moment felt special, as if they were the only two people in the world. Phyllida’s heart leapt to her throat before settling back again, thudding so hard against her ribs that she found it difficult to breathe.
Lady Hune’s sharp voice broke the spell. ‘You can take me home now, Richard. I shall expect you later, Lady Phyllida!’
Phyllida did not move as they walked away. Suddenly the sun did not seem as bright and she became aware of the cold wind that Richard had mentioned. That was the trouble with the man, she thought, putting her hand up to make sure her spencer was buttoned up. He made her forget to be sensible. She supposed it must be so with all rakes, for how else could they wreak such havoc with ladies’ hearts?
Her thoughts went back to the dowager’s suggestion that she should find a husband. She did not know whether to be amused or indignant. Lady Hune meant well, she knew that, and perhaps she might consider marrying again at some stage, but for now her mind was fully occupied with looking after her stepdaughter and keeping her safe from men like Richard Arrandale.
* * *
Taking tea with the Dowager Marchioness of Hune was a protracted affair and full of ceremony. Richard decided he would make himself scarce until towards the end, when he would offer to escort Miss Tatham and her stepmother back to Charles Street. Sophia would approve of his civility and his absence for most of the afternoon might prevent her from guessing his intentions towards the heiress.
His plan worked perfectly. He walked in just as Sophia was refilling the tea pot. He accepted a cup from his great-aunt and since Lady Phyllida was sitting next to the dowager he took a seat beside Miss Tatham and engaged her in conversation. He had soon put her at her ease and she chatted away to him in the friendliest manner. Well aware that they were in company and every word could be overheard, Richard said nothing untoward and made no attempt to flirt with Ellen, but since she was well educated as well as quick-witted they were soon getting on famously, so much so that when Lady Phyllida rose to take her leave and he suggested he should escort them home, Ellen was quick to support him.
Lady Phyllida smiled and shook her head. ‘I am obliged to you, sir, but I think not. You have only just come in. I am sure Lady Hune would like to have you to herself for a while.’
He laughed. ‘But it is only a step. I shall be back again in a matter of minutes.’
‘As you say, Mr Arrandale. It is only a step, so Ellen and I will manage perfectly well, but I am grateful for your offer.’
Lady Phyllida smiled but her grey-green eyes held a steely look. It surprised him, for he had thought her a meek, biddable creature. However, he said nothing, merely inclined his head in acquiescence as the visitors went on their way.
* * *
‘Well, that was much more enjoyable than I anticipated,’ declared Ellen as they turned into Chapel Row on their way to Charles Street. ‘And not just because Mr Arrandale spent a good twenty minutes talking to me! I thought Lady Hune might treat me as a child but she was very pleasant, was she not?’
‘That is because she likes you,’ returned Phyllida. ‘And she is accustomed to having young people about her. Until recently she had her granddaughter living with her.’
Ellen stopped and turned her wide-eyed gaze upon Phyllida. ‘Of course. Lady Cassandra! It was in the newspapers that Lady C—had eloped from Bath, but I had not connected her with the marchioness.’
‘Yes, that was her granddaughter. The elopement took place just before I came to Bath but I know Lady Hune was distraught, and not only did she have the worry of what had happened to Lady Cassandra, she had to endure Bath’s gossipmongers. I believe it has taken a great deal of fortitude.’
‘How dreadful for her,’ said Ellen, shocked.
‘It was,’ agreed Phyllida as they began to walk on. ‘The gossip has died down now in Bath but it is still mentioned occasionally, even though Lady Cassandra is married and gone out of the country.’
‘I had not thought of it before,’ said Ellen slowly, ‘but as exciting as an elopement is for the couple involved, there must be a great deal of horrid scandal to be endured by the family left behind.’
‘I am glad you realise that, my love.’
Ellen slipped her arm through Phyllida’s and gave it a quick squeeze.
‘Do not sound so serious, Philly, I have no intention of eloping.’ She added, with a mischievous gurgle of laughter in her voice, ‘And woe betide any man who tries to persuade me to it!’
