A Lord for Miss Larkin Read online

  “I cannot believe he would notice what I am wearing, still less remember what I wore the day before, nor care if he did!”

  “You are probably right, you sceptical child. It is chiefly for other females that we dress to the nines. We need not rush off to Mrs. Gribbins then.”

  “Oh yes, let us go there first. After all, Mr. Trevelyan might notice.” Alison laughed at herself. “Perhaps it is really for our own satisfaction that we put on fine feathers.”

  For her own satisfaction, then, Alison was glad to find that the mantua-maker had indeed finished her slate-grey carriage dress with the coquelicot ribbons, and another three morning gowns besides.

  And it was purely for her own satisfaction that she spent an hour preparing for her drive in the Park the next day. So she told herself, at least, as she tried to decide whether the new velvet bonnet with the curly ostrich feather or the straw hat with its bunch of cherries best complemented the carriage dress. Her attire must be perfect—well, perhaps not solely for her own satisfaction, she admitted, but to boost her self-confidence. Mr. Trevelyan must have thawed somewhat towards her to issue the invitation, but he still made her feel a trifle uneasy.

  She decided the bonnet was more dignified.

  When he came to fetch her, his demeanour did nothing to set her up in her own esteem. He handed her into the smart, moss-green tilbury with such an air of insufferable boredom that she nearly insisted on descending again at once.

  She refused to be intimidated. As he set his chestnuts in motion, she settled back in the comfortable seat and ventured to ask the horses’ names.

  “Spaniard and Conqueror.”

  “Something to do with the Duke of Wellington?” she hazarded a guess. “No, I have it! How very clever.” She went off into peals of laughter.

  Mr. Trevelyan glanced at her in astonishment, then grinned. He looked almost boyish. “Never say you have worked it out. You are one in a thousand, Miss Larkin.”

  “It’s because they are chestnuts, is it not? The sweet chestnut is called a Spanish chestnut, hence Spaniard, and the boys’ name for the horse chestnut is conker, which you have expanded to Conqueror. Bubble and Squeak play endless games with conkers tied to bits of string.”

  “You try to smash your opponent’s conker. I was something of a champion in my youth. Bubble—was that not the name of the urchin who walked my cattle in Great Ormond Street?”

  “Yes, and Squeak is his brother. Those are not their real names, of course. The two of them and Tarry Joe are the regulars of Aunt Cleo’s gang; the others come and go.” She hesitated. “I think Lady Emma would say that I ought not to have mentioned them.”

  “You are quite right, but permit me to ask, what exactly is Aunt Cleo’s gang?” Mr. Trevelyan was no longer the light-hearted gentleman who had played conkers in his youth. He looked positively grim.

  Obviously Lady Emma was justified in forbidding talk of the boys. “No, I must not talk about them,” Alison said firmly. “What delightful weather we are having.”

  The sun was shining and the gentle breeze carried a balmy promise of spring. The tilbury passed the Grosvenor Gate and entered Hyde Park, where a number of carriages and horsemen were already taking advantage of the fine day. Alison saw that early daffodils were trumpeting under the elms.

  Forgetting her companion’s relapse into hauteur, she cried out, “Oh look, are they not pretty? Aunt Polly’s were scarce budding when I left. Daffodils are my favourite flower—at least until the roses bloom, and I am very fond of chrysanthemums, and lavender of course, for the sweet smell, and—”

  “Flowers in general.” Mr. Trevelyan’s lips twitched. “Do you wish to pick some?” He reined in Spaniard and Conqueror.

  “Yes, but I have a lowering feeling that Lady Emma would not approve. Thank you, but I had best not.”

  He drove on. “You are very determined to do what will please Emma.”

  “She is so kind to me, I should hate to disappoint her. Tomorrow she will take me to meet her sister, Bella, who is just come up to Town. That is Lady Fairfield, is it not? I am to practise my company manners, for Lady Fairfield is too indolent and good-natured to take exception if I make a mistake.”

  “Emma takes all her protégées to practice on Bella,” he said, laughing. “You will like her. In fact, all the Gilchrists are pleasant people.”

  “I hardly ever meet anyone I do not like.” Alison decided Mr. Trevelyan was quite handsome when he was amused. There was a warm twinkle in the brown eyes she had thought so daunting. “People in general are very agreeable, are they not? Only yesterday, when we were shopping, I made a new friend.” She giggled.

  “Do you mean to tell me the joke?”

  “It is not worth recounting, but I shall not leave you on tenterhooks. I was looking at some bugle trimming when a thread broke and the beads scattered all over the counter. There were dozens, rolling about and dropping on the floor. I had not the least notion what to do! I must have looked at a loss, for the young lady next to me seized the ribbon from me and said in a loud voice, ‘Look, Mama, this is very inferior stuff. It has fallen apart in my hand.’”

  “Both sympathetic and quick-witted.”

  “Was she not? I was excessively grateful not to be left standing there like a ninnyhammer. The shopman was full of apologies. He brought out a better quality of trimming and I purchased some, so you need not think that he suffered too badly as a result of my clumsiness.”

  “I have no doubt the accident was due to inferior quality, as the young lady said, not to your clumsiness. Did you learn her name?”

  “That is the best of all: She is Miss Witherington and her mama is Lady Witherington, who is acquainted with Lady Emma. And Lady Emma has asked them to tea next week. Am I not lucky? It was altogether a splendid day.”

  “You enjoy shopping, I collect.”

  “I did buy some very pretty things. Have you ever been to Schomberg House in Pall Mall, to Harding and Howell’s? They sell everything you can imagine, clocks and parasols and gowns, all in different departments separated by mahogany partitions with windows and glass doors. Upstairs there are even glass domes in the ceiling to let in daylight. It is as grand as a palace! Oh look, I believe the gentleman riding towards us is trying to catch your eye.”

  Mr. Trevelyan glanced at the rider. “That is Lord Fane. Are you ready to meet your first lord, Miss Larkin, or shall I pretend I have not seen him?” There was a teasing note to his voice.

  Alison rose to the challenge. “Pray introduce us, sir,” she said somewhat breathlessly, sitting up straighter. A stream of Lady Emma’s instructions raced through her head as the tilbury drew to a halt and the gentlemen exchanged greetings.

  “Miss Larkin,” said Mr. Trevelyan, “allow me to make Lord Fane known to you.”

  “How do you do, my lord,” she murmured, eyes lowered, then risked a glance upward.

  His lordship was gazing down at her with a look of bemused admiration in his grey eyes that brought a flush to her cheeks. He had removed his curly-brimmed beaver to bow to her, revealing fair hair cut in a fashionable Brutus. His nose, she was gratified to note, was the superb epitome of aristocratic breeding.

  “I am happy to make your acquaintance, Miss Larkin. You are newly come to Town, I daresay?”

  He could not have begun with a more difficult question if he had tried, Alison thought indignantly. She had spent all her life in Town, but moving in quite the wrong circles.

  “Indeed, my lord,” she murmured.

  Mr. Trevelyan seemed to be quivering with silent laughter beside her, which made it difficult to concentrate on what Lord Fane was saying. Fortunately, he spoke the merest commonplace courtesies.

  “Delightful weather for the time of year, is it not, ma’am?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Alas, we cannot expect that it will continue.”

  “No, my lord.”

  “If March comes in like a lamb, it will go out like a lion, they say.”

/>   “Yes, my lord.”

  “I have always considered that there is a great deal of wisdom in such country sayings.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  He continued in this vein and she was able to answer, “Yes, my lord,” and “No, my lord,” without perjuring herself. At last he asked if he might do himself the honour of calling upon her.

  She flung a glance of mute appeal at Mr. Trevelyan.

  “Miss Larkin is staying with Lady Emma Grant,” he said. “I believe you are acquainted with Lady Emma?”

  Lord Fane agreed fervently that he was indeed acquainted with her ladyship, distantly related even. He took his leave and rode on.

  “That is all very well,” said Alison, twisting in her seat to look after him, “but if he calls I shall have to converse with him properly.”

  Mr. Trevelyan chuckled. “Emma will preserve you from him until you are ready. However, if I am not mistaken he is the kind that prefers young ladies to be demure and respectfully attentive to what he says. You managed it very well.”

  “It was not easy with you sitting there trying not to laugh,” she accused. “How well he rides! And his coat is excessively elegant. I thought him charming. Does he really know Lady Emma?”

  “Emma knows everyone, and besides, the Fanes have some connexion by marriage with the Gilchrists, I believe, as he mentioned. He is several years younger than she, though, so I doubt he knows her well.”

  “He looked to be five or six and twenty.”

  “An excellent age,” he murmured, so softly she was not sure whether she had heard aright.

  His expression was sardonic, but he had been amazingly approachable all afternoon and Alison decided to take advantage of his amiability.

  “May I ask you a question, sir?”

  “By all means, though of course I cannot promise to answer. And provided I may ask you one next.”

  She was afraid he was going to ask about the urchins, and that he would poker up again if she told him. “By all means,” she said cautiously, “though I cannot promise to answer.”

  “Touché. Your turn first.”

  “I have been wondering why Lady Emma does not choose to live with her family, instead of burdening herself with ignorant girls like me. You said the Gilchrists are pleasant people, and she speaks of them with affection. I did not like to ask her, and I expect you will tell me it is none of my business, but surely she would have an easier life if she took up residence with them?”

  “Emma does in fact spend much of the year with her family. She was at Fairfield for Christmas with Bella, and last summer she stayed with her parents for several months, but she does not wish to be obliged to live with them. She has a horror of being dependent, so she has kept her own house, and thus retains a certain freedom. She is not so eccentric as to live alone—when she is in London she usually has an elderly cousin with her, who is at present visiting another relative.”

  “She never speaks of her husband. She must have loved him very much?”

  “Miss Larkin, you cannot expect me to answer that! I have already been less than discreet, only because I believe your interest springs from affection.”

  “It does. I am sorry, I know I ought not to have asked you,” she said penitently. “What is your question?”

  He hesitated, as if uncertain whether to proceed. “When I came to your house, you asked if I were a lord and I told you I was not. I thought I heard you say ‘good,’ as you turned away. Why?”

  Alison felt absurdly guilty. She did not wish to confess, but it was only fair when he had patiently answered her impertinent query.

  “Because I did not like you,” she muttered, sure that she was crimson to the roots of her hair. A sideways glance showed her that he, too, was somewhat pink in the face.

  “I see. I did not precisely behave so as to ingratiate myself,” he said wryly. “May I hope to be forgiven?”

  “I like you very well now,” she hastened to assure him. “Indeed, I do not know when I have enjoyed anything so much as driving in the Park this afternoon.”

  “Thank you, Miss Larkin. You mean since yesterday afternoon’s shopping expedition, I collect?”

  She laughed, glad that he was joking. “I enjoy most things,” she admitted.

  “I am sorry to bring your enjoyment to an end, but we have been twice about the Park and I must be at the House by four.” He directed Conqueror and Spaniard towards the gate. “I hope you will drive out with me again one of these days.”

  “I should love to, but you must give Lady Emma a turn, too.”

  Leaving the Park, they drove along Upper Brook Street, then left into Park Street. To her horror, Alison saw Bubble lingering near Lady Emma’s front steps. She closed her eyes, sure that Mr. Trevelyan must recognize him.

  The tilbury stopped.

  “Give me all you have, boy,” came Mr. Trevelyan’s pleased voice, and suddenly her arms were full of yellow daffodils. ‘Your favourite flower, I believe, Miss Larkin. At present, at least.”

  As she raised her eyes to his smiling face, she saw Bubble on the pavement behind him with an empty basket and a delighted, if gap-toothed, grin. He held up a shiny half-sovereign, put his finger to his lips and winked.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lady Emma’s sister, Arabella Fairfield, was a plump, kind-hearted if lazy matron in her mid-thirties. She had two sons at Harrow, and a daughter at school in Bath who would be making her come-out the following year.

  “It is positively shocking how they grow up,” she observed placidly. “It ages one so. You are prodigious successful at bringing out young girls, Em. I shall rely on you to show me how to go on.”

  “To do all the hard work, more like,” said Lady Emma, shaking her head. “I know you, Bella.”

  Lady Fairfield chuckled. “All too well, I vow.”

  Alison liked her. If the other hostesses she would meet in the next few weeks were even half as amiable, her apprehensions were groundless.

  When she and Lady Emma returned from the visit, they found that both Mr. Trevelyan and Lord Fane had left cards in their absence. While Lady Emma read the brief message Philip had written on the back of his, Alison picked up his lordship’s and gazed at it in awe.

  “He really did come to call! Was it not obliging of Mr. Trevelyan to introduce us?”

  “Yes, it is more than I expected of him when I asked him to help me establish you. Standing up with you occasionally at a ball was all I had in mind, but I should have known Philip would always make an extra effort for an old friend. So Lord Fane called! What do you think of your first lord?”

  “To tell the truth I was too overwhelmed to look properly at his face, except to note that he looks prodigious aristocratic. His riding coat was excessively elegant and he made a fine figure on his horse.”

  “And what of his manner?”

  “He was all that is civil, even though I did not know what to say to him. I am glad we were from home when he called.”

  “Hey-day, Alison bashful? It will not last, I vow. I was exceptionally pleased with the way you spoke with Bella, and you will soon be ready to face Lord Fane. I think I shall invite Philip and Robert to a little formal dinner party to give you some experience at conversation and the etiquette of that sort of occasion.”

  “I must quickly read some poetry then, so that I can converse sensibly with Mr. Gilchrist.”

  “I suspect you will find that Robert is interested only in his own verse, and all you will need to do is admire it,” said that young gentleman’s sister drily. “Do you want to keep Lord Fane’s card as a remembrance of your first meeting with a lord?”

  “Oh yes, thank you. I shall put it under my pillow, and perhaps I shall dream of him.”

  Lady Emma shook her head indulgently, and they went upstairs to put off their bonnets and pelisses. As they reached the landing, Alison laughed.

  “I was just thinking,” she explained, “how glad I am that Lord Fane did not swoon at my feet. As he was on hors
eback, he might have done himself a serious injury!”

  She set his lordship’s card on her dressing table and when, a few minutes later, she sat down to tidy her hair, she picked it up again. It was to Mr. Trevelyan, however, that her thoughts turned.

  She should have known that he was only behaving so charmingly towards her for Lady Emma’s sake—“an extra effort for an old friend.” Still, it was a bit disappointing when she had imagined that he might be coming to like her for herself, despite their unfortunate start. Not that his opinion of her really mattered, since he had no title, but she would not give him any cause to refuse to help. Lady Emma would need all the assistance she could find to establish a girl from so obscure a background.

  Her eyes focused once more on the card in her hand. Lord Fane seemed to admire her. With a little encouragement he might be persuaded to fall madly in love with her and to propose marriage. It would be excessively romantic to wed the first lord she had ever met.

  Mr. Trevelyan had said that Lord Fane preferred demure young ladies. Alison vowed to do her best to become demure.

  As she stood up and turned to put the card under her pillow, she saw the huge bowl of daffodils Carter had arranged on her chest of drawers. She smiled. Perhaps Mr. Trevelyan did like her a little, after all.

  * * * *

  This comforting reflection had to be revised when the gentleman in question called the next day. Alison was performing the complex figures of the quadrille under Signor Pascoli’s mournful gaze. It was not easy dancing with an imaginary partner and three other imaginary couples, even when she had invented names and faces for them. With Mr. Trevelyan standing by the spinet talking to Lady Emma, whose timing grew erratic as a consequence, the task became still more difficult. Alison struggled on, thankful when she reached the final curtsy.

  Signor Pascoli departed. Alison would have liked to tell Mr. Trevelyan about her pretended fellow dancers, but somehow in Lady Emma’s presence it was difficult to recapture the informality of yesterday’s conversation. Besides, he was wearing his bored expression.