Runaway Miss. Mary Nichols

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      Mama must have had the same thought, because later that day, she had suggested taking Emma to London for her delayed coming out. The Duke of Ranworth, her mother’s brother, had offered them the use of Ranworth House in Hanover Square and they had done the rounds, attending balls and tea parties, but in the end it had not been Emma who found a husband but the dowager herself, though calling Mama a dowager was a jest, considering she had not been above forty at the time and still comely.

      ‘Lady Emma, that’s just the right age to be,’ Rose said, answering her last comment. ‘Though you are still young and beautiful, you are past the age of being thought an empty-headed schoolgirl that no one need take seriously. Some gentlemen would value your maturity.’

      Emma laughed. ‘Thank you, Rose. What would I do without you? It is ridiculous when you think that a lady is not expected to dress herself, to do her own hair, or allowed to go out alone. But it is not only the dressing and looking after my clothes I value you for, it is having someone to talk to. I can say anything I like to you.’

      ‘My lady, I am sure you would manage.’ She paused and then took a deep breath before going on. ‘My lady, I have to give notice. My mother is having another baby and she needs me to look after the other little ones. There are seven now.’

      Emma sank down on to the bed and stared up at her maid, who had been part of her life ever since she could remember. Rose had been a parlour maid at Pinehill, but as soon as Emma had become old enough to have a maid of her own, the girl had been promoted to lady’s maid. She was more than a servant, she was a friend. ‘Oh, Rose, of course you must go, but I shall miss you terribly. How long do you think you will be away?’

      ‘My lady, my mother is almost past childbearing age and this time she has found it very difficult carrying. I think she will need me to stay. I am sorry, my lady, truly I am. I do not want to leave you, but I must.’

      ‘I understand, Rose, of course I do.’ How selfish men were, Emma decided, determined to have their conjugal rights no matter what the consequences to their poor wives, but she did not say it aloud because she knew Rose loved her father—besides, it was not considered a suitable subject for a young unmarried lady to air. ‘When will you go?’

      ‘At the end of the week if that is convenient to you, my lady.’

      ‘My convenience is not important, Rose, I would never keep you from your mother. Go and look after her, I shall manage.’ She stood up. ‘Now, I must be off or we shall be late.’

      Hurrying downstairs, Emma found her mother and Sir George waiting for her in the drawing room. Her mother, in a becoming gown of rose-pink taffeta, was looking unhappy, her face pale and eyes bright with unshed tears. Sir George, arrayed in a mulberry evening coat, an embroidered waistcoat, white silk breeches and silk stockings, was standing with his back to the hearth, his mouth set in a thin line of annoyance. There was a tension in the air, which immediately communicated itself to Emma.

      ‘About time too!’ Sir George said.

      ‘Goodness, child, whatever do you do up there to take so long to dress?’ her mother asked more mildly. She had once been upright and sprightly, but age and being cowed by her demanding second husband seemed to have diminished her.

      ‘I’m sorry, Mama, but I was talking to Rose. She wants to leave.’

      ‘Why? Whatever have you done to her?’

      ‘Nothing, Mama. She has to go and look after her brothers and sisters. Her mother is enceinte again.’

      ‘Well, there’s nothing to be done about it tonight,’ Sir George snapped. ‘You can send her packing in the morning.’

      ‘In the morning?’ Emma queried. ‘She is prepared to stay until the end of the week.’

      ‘No doubt she would like to, but it is my experience that servants under notice are worse than useless; they do no work, undermine the morale of the others and use every opportunity to steal…’

      ‘Rose is not like that,’ Emma protested. ‘She is honest and loyal.’

      ‘So you may think, but it is my rule that when a servant expresses a wish to leave, they are turned off immediately.’ He turned to his wife. ‘You will see she goes tomorrow. Now, the carriage is waiting. If we are not careful, we shall be the last to arrive and I particularly wanted to be there on time. There is someone I wish you to meet.’

      ‘Oh?’ Had he tired of waiting for her to accept an offer of marriage and found a husband for her? She waited to be enlightened.

      ‘Lord Bentwater.’

      ‘I do not think I know the gentleman.’

      ‘No, of course you do not or I would not be going to the trouble of introducing you.’

      ‘And what am I to make of this gentleman?’ She spoke coolly because she would not let him intimidate her as he intimidated her mother; if he expected her to fall into the arms of one of his disreputable friends, then he was going to be disappointed. She was not so desperate to marry that she would accept anyone in breeches. In fact, she was not desperate at all. Her mother’s miserable second marriage was enough to put anyone off.

      ‘You may make of him what you will, miss. What is more to the point is what he makes of you. Come, now, the horses will be growing restive.’ Followed meekly by his wife and an exasperated Emma, he set off down the hall, where the front door was opened by a liveried footman. A few short steps and he was at the carriage where he stood to one side as one of the grooms opened the door for the ladies to enter. Sir George seated himself opposite them and gave the order to proceed.

      Although Almack’s was almost certainly the most exclusive club in London, it could hardly be called grand. Lit by gas, the ballroom was enormous, made to look even larger by the huge mirrors and a series of gilt columns. Other smaller rooms were used for supper and cards. The Patronesses who presided over the weekly balls during the Season made sure only the best people attended and that everyone behaved themselves. It was here young ladies were paraded before the eligible bachelors in the hope of finding a husband. Emma thought it unbearably boring and could not understand why her stepfather should suddenly take it into his head to attend. Except for that hint about someone he wanted her to meet. She was curious, but not hopeful.

      As soon as they arrived Sir George disappeared in the direction of the card room and Emma and her mother wandered into the ballroom, where the sumptuous gowns of the ladies and the richness of the gentlemen’s coats formed a shifting rainbow of colour as they walked and gesticulated and preened themselves between dances. Spotting Lady Standon and her daughter, Harriet, they crossed the room to join them.

      Harriet, a year younger than Emma, had recently become engaged to Frederick Graysmith, lawyer and Member of Parliament. He was likeable enough, but there seemed to be no fire in him. He would be safe but dull as a husband. Emma decided she wanted more than that. She wanted excitement and passion and a little something extra, though she could not define it. All she knew was that she would recognise it when it came. If it came. And if it did not, would she be able to settle for second best? She had a dreadful feeling that her stepfather was about to try to force a match on her and, if Lord Bentwater was anything like Sir George, she knew she would not like him.

      ‘Emma, I had no idea you would be coming tonight,’ Harriet said, her brown eyes bright with excitement. She was dressed in buttercup yellow, which contrasted well with her dark hair.

      ‘It СКАЧАТЬ