Joanna Fulford - Secrets in the Regency Ballroom

There followed another silence. Then, very quietly, ‘Susan.’

‘That’s a good name. It suits her very well. Shall we take Susan upstairs and show her where her room is? She must be feeling tired after such a long journey.’

After a moment the child nodded. Claire held out her hand.

‘Come, then.’

Lucy looked up at her uncle and he nodded.

‘That’s right. You go along with Miss Davenport.’

A small hand stole tentatively into Claire’s. The Viscount caught her eye.

‘I will speak with you later, Miss Davenport. There are various points we need to discuss.’ He paused. ‘In the meantime, Mrs Hughes will send up a tray for Lucy. It has indeed been a long journey and she is tired. An early night is in order, I think.’

‘Yes, sir.’

As Claire led the child away she was conscious of the penetrating gaze that followed them to the stairs.

In fact, he had been quite right. By the time Lucy was ensconced in her room and had eaten some supper she was pale with fatigue so Claire undressed her and put her to bed. As she tucked the sheet in she was aware that the child watched her with solemn, sleepy eyes.

Claire smiled. ‘Would you like to have Susan with you?’

This elicited a nod. Retrieving the doll from a nearby chair, Claire handed it over and watched as it was tucked carefully under the covers. Then she gently brushed the child’s face with her hand.

‘Goodnight, dear. Sleep well.’

Within a very short time Lucy was asleep, clearly worn out by the journey and perhaps too by the anxiety of altered circumstances. As she looked at the forlorn little figure in the big bed her heart went out to Lucy. How lonely and frightened the child must be. She knew how it felt to be alone in the world and cast on the mercy of others, and that was at thirteen, not six years of age.

She remained in the room until she was quite certain that Lucy was fast asleep, and instructed the maid to leave a night light burning. If by some chance the child did wake up, at least she wouldn’t be on her own in a strange place in the dark.

Having seen to her charge’s immediate needs, Claire made her way to the drawing room, mindful that her employer had asked to speak to her. When she entered he was standing by the hearth. He had been leaning on the mantel, staring down into the flames, but hearing her come in he glanced up and then straightened.

‘Ah, Miss Davenport. How is my ward?’

‘Asleep, sir. As you suspected, she really was very tired.’

‘Yes, I imagine she was. It was a long journey and there has been all the upheaval attendant on her removal. What she needs now is some stability.’ He regarded her keenly. ‘I take it that you have seen the nursery.’

‘Yes, sir.’

He smiled faintly. ‘It has been some years since I was there, and is no doubt lacking in some essentials. You may have whatever you need for the discharge of your duties. Money is no object. Just tell me what you want and I’ll see that you get it.’

Somewhat taken aback, she thanked him. ‘There are a few things missing,’ she admitted, ‘chiefly books suitable for a child of Lucy’s age.’

‘That will be rectified as soon as possible. In the interim she needs some time to grow accustomed to her new surroundings. It will all be very strange and frightening. Let her have plenty of fresh air and exercise, Miss Davenport. Then introduce her lessons gradually.’

‘As you wish, sir.’

‘This is her home now and I want her to feel at ease here.’

For the second time Claire was taken aback for there could be no mistaking the sincerity with which he spoke. There was, besides, real compassion in the orders he had given and she was touched.

‘I will do my best to see that she does, sir.’

‘I am sure you will.’ He paused, surveying her keenly. ‘And what of you, Miss Davenport? Does your room meet with your approval?’

‘Oh, yes. It is beautiful.’

Again she found herself caught unawares. She knew enough of life to realise that employers usually gave little thought to the comfort of their servants.

‘Good. If you find you need anything else, tell Mrs Hughes and she will arrange it.’

‘Thank you. That is most kind.’

For a moment there was silence and she felt acutely aware of that disconcerting grey gaze. Then he smiled.

‘Then if there is nothing else I will not detain you.’

She dropped a graceful curtsy and retraced her steps to the door, pausing briefly to look over her shoulder. However, he had turned back towards the fire and seemed to have dismissed her from his mind. Claire opened the door quietly and slipped away. On returning to her room she sat down and began to write the promised letter to Ellen.

In the days that followed she heeded her instructions. The early autumn weather was pleasant, so it was no hardship to take her young charge out of doors. Besides which it gave Claire a chance to talk to her and find out more about her. Although she was shy and her education had been somewhat disrupted due to circumstances, Lucy was not unintelligent and had an enquiring mind. She was quick to learn the names of the flowers and trees and living creatures they encountered on these walks. When told a story she was an avid listener. Little by little Claire added to their activities, always taking care to vary them and to try to make them interesting.

She had not expected to see much of her employer at all, but he occasionally came to the nursery. One day, when teaching Lucy her letters, she looked up to see the tall figure in the doorway. Realising who it was, she felt her heartbeat quicken. Following her gaze, Lucy saw him too and paused in her task, regarding him uncertainly.

He smiled down at her. ‘How are you today, Lucy?’

She reddened and lowered her eyes. ‘Very well, thank you, Uncle Marcus.’

‘What have you been doing?’

Lucy moved her hand so that he could see the copybook in which she had been working. He surveyed it closely and the letters written in large childish script.

‘Well done,’ he said then. ‘You’re making good progress, I see.’

Lucy’s blush deepened. Over her head he exchanged glances with Claire.

‘Well done, Miss Davenport.’

She had half expected to hear irony in the tone, but there was none and her own face grew a little warmer.

‘She is quick to learn,’ she replied.

‘I’m pleased to hear it. I should not like my niece to be an ignoramus.’

‘I can assure you, sir, she is far from being anything of the sort.’

‘Good.’ Marcus looked down at his niece. ‘Now, Lucy, copy out all those letters again. I wish to speak to Miss Davenport.’

Obediently the child returned to her task. Seeing her once again employed, he drew Claire aside.

‘The books and materials you asked for have been ordered,’ he said. ‘They should be here within the week. Is there anything else you require?’

‘Not at present, thank you.’

‘If you think of anything later, be sure to let me know.’ He paused. ‘Has the child’s appetite returned? Is she sleeping properly?’

‘Yes, sir, on both counts.’

‘Does she seem to be settling down?’

‘I think she is beginning to, yes, but it is likely to take a while before she really feels at home.’

‘Yes, I suppose it will.’ For a moment he surveyed her in silence. ‘Well, then, I won’t detain you further.’ Throwing another glance towards his niece, he took his leave of them.

She watched the departing figure a moment and then went back to see what Lucy was doing. The child looked up, regarding her quizzically.

‘What’s a nigneraymus, Miss Davenport?’

Claire bit back a smile. ‘A very stupid person. Not like you at all.’