Helen Dickson - Lucy Lane and the Lieutenant

Nathan turned his head and looked at her, a look of unconcealed admiration on his handsome face as he surveyed her jaunty yellow dress. Around her neck she had tied a matching yellow scarf, knotting it on the side, with the ends flipped over her shoulder.

‘Have you rung the bell?’ she asked.

‘Two minutes ago.’

‘Sarah must be busy. She serves my aunt’s every capacity. If you don’t wish to loiter in the street, perhaps you should come back later—or not at all,’ she said coldly.

‘It’s no bother. I’ll wait.’

‘I think you should go. She hasn’t been well. I don’t want her disturbed.’

No sooner had she spoken than the door was opened by Sarah, a pretty young woman with an open face and friendly brown eyes. ‘Good day to you, Miss Lucy. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, but I was settling Miss Sharp in the drawing room. Please come in.’ She smiled at Nathan, flushing prettily and bobbed a curtsy. ‘She’s expecting you, sir.’

He is no doubt accustomed to this sort of feminine reaction everywhere he goes , Lucy thought irately. She looked sharply at him. ‘Do you mean to tell me you have already paid a call on Aunt Dora?’

‘I came to pay my respects yesterday. Unlike her niece she was pleased to see me and was keen for me to call on her again today.’

‘I can imagine,’ Lucy remarked drily, brushing past him into the house, leaving him to follow her or remain outside. Handing the basket to Sarah, who closed the door after Nathan, she walked towards the drawing room. ‘What are you doing here? What do you want?’

‘Now, why on earth should you think that? I am paying a social call on your aunt Dora. That is all.’

‘Why?’

‘Just because my former betrothed cut me out of her life doesn’t mean that I should stop seeing Dora. We were friends, good friends, and when I called on her she was happy to see me—unlike her niece.’

Knowing it was some ulterior motive that had brought him here and not to make idle chit-chat, Lucy glowered at him and opened the door.

Dressed in a green-brocade dressing gown over a white-muslin shift, her silver hair loosely dressed beneath a pretty lace bonnet, Aunt Dora reclined like a pale and beautiful spectre on a chaise longue, seemingly unaware of the tense, charged atmosphere that existed between the two people who had just entered the room. She had been unwell for four weeks. A persistent cough had kept her confined to her bed and all the cures and remedies applied since then had done little to remedy it.

‘Good afternoon, Aunt Dora,’ Lucy said, crossing to her aunt and hugging her warmly. She worried constantly about her aunt’s frail health and wished she could do more for her. ‘How are you feeling? A little better, I hope. I met this gentleman on the doorstep. I hope you are feeling up to visitors.’

‘Most assuredly,’ Dora protested, sitting up so that Lucy could place a cushion behind her back, the effort of doing so making her breathless. ‘Nathan was kind enough to pay me a visit yesterday. I do so enjoy his company—I always did—and he’s in London for such a short time.’

‘I think we both know that he always has a reason for what he does,’ Lucy retorted, avoiding meeting Nathan’s steady gaze.

Though he was arrested by the beauty of the sunlight streaming in through the small bay window behind her, illuminating her hair and shoulders in a subtle halo, the look she gave him made it clear that she was in no mood to be placated.

‘You are wrong, Lucy. I would be most offended had he not called on me...’ Dora’s voice trailed off as a cough she had tried to restrain got the better of her.

‘Oh, Aunt Dora,’ Lucy whispered, hating to see her weakness. Handing her a glass of water, she held it while she took a sip. ‘Is that better?’ Her aunt nodded, resting back on the cushions and dabbing her lips with a handkerchief. ‘I’ve brought you a basket of fresh fruit from the market, along with a book of poetry I thought you might like to read. I’ve given them to Sarah.’

‘Thank you, dear,’ Dora said, casting her niece a worried look, ‘but I wish you would not spend your hard-earned money on me.’

Lucy gave her a loving smile. Aunt Dora had no idea of the dire straits she found herself in, but the time had come when she would have to be told. ‘I like to spoil you. How I would like to take you to the country where the fresh air will make your chest better.’

Dora airily waved a slender hand. ‘You must try not to worry so, dear. I do so hate to be a bother. As you see I am better than I was—and I do so hate the country, as you well know. I’m only at my best when I’m in town close to my friends, and you, Lucy dear—although I was so sorry when Nathan told me you are no longer to play Portia. What is Mr Portas thinking of to give the role to someone else?’

Lucy threw Nathan a reproving look. ‘I’m amazed Nathan was able to give you the news when it is yet to be made public. I would have preferred to tell you myself.’

‘I called when you were out, looking for work,’ Nathan explained, his voice quietly sympathetic. ‘Your maid—Polly?—gave me the unfortunate news. I’m sorry, Lucy. I know how much that part meant to you.’

‘Don’t be too downhearted, Lucy,’ Aunt Dora said, giving her a comforting pat on the hand. ‘There will be other parts. Although I confess I am extremely disappointed with Mr Portas.’

‘I am more than willing to provide a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry on, if so desired,’ Nathan offered.

Lucy dragged her gaze towards his tall commanding figure. He was gazing at her with an air of surprising openness, as he stood in front of the fire in a casual, manly pose, his arm draped along the mantelpiece. ‘I do not desire. At present I am extremely angry and disappointed.’ He raised that damnable eyebrow at her, so knowing, so thoroughly in control.

‘I can understand that.’

Lucy glared at him, hating that mocking smile that twitched infuriatingly at the corners of his mouth. ‘I don’t think you understand the enormity of what has happened to me,’ she retorted, going to stand in front of him and glaring into his eyes. ‘I did wonder if for some malicious reason you might be the perpetrator of my downfall,’ she said angrily, for the suspicion had briefly crossed her mind.

‘I want you with me, Lucy, but I would not stoop that low.’

She was relieved to hear him say that. Her emotions told her she could not possibly survive the pain of it if he had.

‘What nonsense is this, Lucy?’ Aunt Dora piped up, her voice reproachful. ‘How can you accuse Nathan of such a thing? He does not have a malicious bone in his body. You accuse him most unfairly.’

Nathan’s smile was almost sweet. ‘Your aunt is right. You are letting your imagination run riot.’

Lucy’s temper flared. ‘I am not accusing you, but my troubles began the day after you came to see me. It began with the trade’s people I owe money to. Have you any idea how humiliating it is to have people coming to your home and demanding money.’

‘You could put an end to this situation.’

‘How? By agreeing to go with you to Portugal?’

‘Portugal?’ Aunt Dora cried, the mere idea of her niece disappearing into a war zone bringing her upright. ‘Why on earth would you go to Portugal with Napoleon’s soldiers running wild all over the place?’

Lucy was quick to reassure her. ‘Please don’t upset yourself, Aunt Dora. I am going nowhere.’

‘Don’t be distressed, dear,’ Aunt Dora said. ‘I have a little money put by. We are not destitute. It’s not the end of the world.’

How Lucy wished that were true. ‘It certainly feels like it to me. Don’t you see? No one is going to employ me now.’