Louise Allen - Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1

Nick was not surprised to find himself still alone at the Lamb and Flag at half past three and congratulated himself on his foresight in ordering a cold collation. When the door finally did fly open to admit two flushed and chattering young women, he rose to his feet, nobly forbearing from a pointed glance at the clock on the mantelshelf.

‘Have you had a successful expedition?’ he enquired, pulling out chairs.

‘Just look!’ Kat gestured at the pile of bandboxes and parcels that a sweating inn servant had deposited on the settle. ‘And I congratulate myself on exercising the utmost economy. We found the equivalent of the Soho Bazaar and made some fine bargains, I can tell you.’ She attacked the cold meats with admirable appetite.

‘How did you get it all here?’ Nick asked, fascinated.

‘Madame LeBlanc lent us a footman. It was most kind of her, considering I am only buying one quite modest gown and she cannot expect any further patronage from me. Would you like some of this pickled salmon? It is excellent.’

For a few minutes they were quiet, enjoying their very belated luncheon, then Kat asked, ‘Did you succeed in finding your tailor still in business?’

‘And my bootmaker, and my hatter,’ Nick said with some satisfaction. ‘And my equivalent pile of incidental shopping is in the carriage. Goodness knows how we are going to get it all home; I expect to have to sit on the box.’

He watched Kat affectionately as she found the sweetmeats and pounced on them. ‘This is an interesting new experience for me, shopping with my wife,’ he said, forgetting to guard his tongue. Instantly the shutters came down behind her eyes. He could have kicked himself. How was he ever to persuade her to give in and to let the marriage stand?

Attempted seduction had not worked and had only driven her further away; persuasion had failed, even hard common sense had broken on the rocks of her resolve. Perhaps courting her would work. There was the ball, after all—what more romantic setting could there be than Seaton Mandeville en fête for a ball, moonlight on the towers, music and flowers and wine working upon the senses? Nick absently peeled an apple, the peel curling over long fingers, and plotted.

Lady Fanny Craven proved to be a vague, amiable person who accepted everything her awe-inspiring relative told her as gospel. The fact that she had been summoned to act as chaperon to a young lady who was married to Cousin Nicholas while pretending to be still single and was yet living with him at the Dower House did not appear to disconcert her in the slightest.

‘You must think this all very irregular,’ Katherine ventured shortly after Lady Fanny’s arrival. The entire household was gathered in the Chinese Salon to take tea.

‘Irregular?’ Lady Fanny was blonde, wispy and perhaps forty years of age. Her single status could be explained by the fact that she had, she explained, been a Support to Poor Dear Mama for many years. That lady having now passed away, she found herself only too happy to assist Cousin Lionel, as she somewhat nervously termed the Duke, whenever he called upon her. ‘This seems to be a perfectly usual time to take tea. Have I missed some irregularity?’

‘No, not the tea, Lady Fanny,’ Katherine explained, fighting the urge to wave frantically at Nick for rescue. ‘The fact that you are chaperoning me under these circumstances.’

‘They may be a trifle unusual,’ Lady Fanny murmured, nibbling like a voracious vole at her third macaroon, ‘but if Cousin Lionel approves, then it must be perfectly correct. Cousin Lionel is always right.’

Just like his elder son, Katherine brooded, watching the two Lydgates lounging elegantly one each side of the fireplace. Nicholas was engaged in persuading his father that he should replace his main carriage with one possessing the latest in patent springs, the Duke in arguing that what he had was perfectly adequate. They seemed, despite the fact that they were disagreeing with each other, far more in harmony than they had at any time since Nick’s return home. Was the old man thawing, and was his son letting his hackles down at last?

‘Would you care for the last macaroon, Lady Seaton?’ Katherine blinked and recalled herself.

‘No, thank you, please do have it, Lady Fanny.’ Where did she put all that food? She was as thin as a rake. ‘And please call me Katherine; no one but the family knows of the marriage, remember, and it would not do to let it slip during the ball.’

‘Oh, my goodness, what a shatterbrained thing that would be, to be sure,’ Lady Fanny tittered. ‘Dear Cousin Nicholas would be annoyed with me. And he has moved to the Dower House, I understand? I wonder how he can live there instead of in all this splendour.’ She gazed myopically at the exotic wallpaper and the Aubusson rugs and sighed wistfully.

‘This is very splendid, I quite agree,’ Katherine said, wondering compassionately exactly where Lady Fanny lodged since her mother’s death, ‘But I must confess to having fallen in love with the Dower House; it is quite charming and I never get lost, which I do all the time here.’

‘And you too are living there now?’

‘Yes, just for a while, since yesterday. I am helping Nicholas with some renovations he is planning, that is all.’ Was her new chaperon going to comment on this highly peculiar arrangement? It appeared not. Katherine just hoped that she was not going to think it her duty to move into the Dower House too.

To her relief, for she had to confess that she was finding conversation with Lady Fanny somewhat hard going, Nick came over to join them. ‘Have you persuaded the Duke to buy a new carriage?’ she asked.

‘No.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I shall just have to buy one myself and lend it to him so he is convinced. I will order it next time I am in Newcastle. What colour would you prefer for the upholstery? Burgundy, dark blue?’

‘Forest green, I think,’ Katherine said, then caught herself. What was she thinking of? ‘But naturally, you must choose, I do not know what would be best for a gentleman’s carriage. Will you place the order when we go into Newcastle for the first fittings for our new clothes?’

‘No need. Madame LeBlanc and my tailor will come out here for the fittings, the day after tomorrow. My bootmaker will send my shoes; he still has my lasts, so fitting is no problem.’

‘They will come here?’ Katherine queried. This was life as she was totally unused to living it, that was obvious.

‘But of course, Katherine dear.’ Lady Fanny looked astonished. ‘This is the Duke’s household, no local tradesperson would dream of doing anything else.’

‘Would you excuse us for one moment, Cousin Fanny?’ Nicholas took Katherine’s hand and led her to a quiet corner of the room. ‘Is she driving you demented?’ he asked sympathetically.

‘Certainly not, what an improper thing to say,’ Katherine said reprovingly. ‘She is perhaps a little difficult to make conversation with …’

‘She is an amiable peahen,’ Lady Fanny’s unsympathetic relative commented, ‘but she will serve the purpose.’

‘Are you still annoyed at the Duke’s decision to hold the ball?’

Nick regarded her thoughtfully. ‘No, I have come to the conclusion that it was an admirable idea.’ Now why did she suspect him of a hidden meaning behind that gracious acknowledgment? ‘And it has inspired me to suggest that we hold a dinner party at the Dower House.’