Louise Read online

  The front door opened before her footman reached it. Mr Littleton, who she remembered from previous visits to her grandfather stood there. He was a small man with a bald head and red moustache, busily efficient. Now he stood in the doorway bowing to her, then came to push the footman out of the way and hand her down from the chaise himself.

  'Welcome my lady. I will introduce you quickly to the servants, and then I suspect you would like to go to bed and have a tray sent up to your room for dinner.'

  Louise nodded. 'Thank you, just what I was hoping for. And for my maid, too, please. She is as weary as I.'

  He led her inside, and she found so many servants standing in two lines in the narrow hallway there was barely room to squeeze past, especially when the men bowed and the maids curtsied.

  Mr Littleton led her down the line, saying their names so quickly Louise knew she would remember none of them apart from the butler, Swayne, who gave her a sympathetic smile. How many were there, she wondered in desperation. At least a dozen. Surely far too many for this house? Though it was tall it was narrow.

  'This way, my lady. I will consult with you and show you round in the morning, before Miss Hoyland arrives. On this floor are the dining room and library, and a small breakfast room. There is a commodious double drawing room above, and the two main bedrooms for you and Miss Hoyland above that, with two smaller rooms for your women. Guest rooms, should you need them, are on the next floor.'

  'I see,' Louise said faintly. 'And where on earth do all those servants sleep?' she asked as she was escorted upstairs.

  He laughed. 'Oh, the men sleep in the basement, the coachman and grooms have quarters over the stables, and the women have plenty of room in the attics. I, naturally, will stay at an hotel when I am in London.'

  'Of course.' It would hardly do, Louise thought, swallowing a laugh, for him to stay with two unmarried ladies.

  She thanked him, retreated to the room he indicated, and permitted Peg to remove her cloak and undress her. Within minutes she was in the big soft bed and had sent an equally weary Peg to her own room. A tray was soon brought, with a bowl of soup and a wing of chicken. Not wishing to offend the cook, she managed to drink the soup, which was tasty and revived her to some extent, and nibble at the chicken. There was also a glass of wine, and a small syllabub. At least, Louise thought, as she disposed of the tray and sank back against the pillows, this cook seemed to know what was appropriate for weary travellers. She must congratulate her in the morning.

  *

  Chapter 2

  Louise woke up as a maid brought in chocolate. She stretched. The bed was amazingly comfortable, and she had slept deeply. As she sipped she began to plan her day. Mr Littleton was coming and she had a lot to talk about with him. Then Matilda would arrive. After that, she decided, casting a look of hatred towards the gown Peg was picking up from the chair where she had thrown it last night, clothes. Matilda would presumably have had time to bring her own clothes, but she had permission to buy new ones for the child, and buy new ones she would. What Matilda, at seventeen, had would almost certainly be childish.

  Then she must send a note to her mother. Emily had married again after Louise's father had died, and Louise had been brought up at their home near Gloucester, but since her own marriage she had seen little of her mother. Lady Barlow preferred town life, spent little time in the country, apart from a few brief visits to Bath or Cheltenham, when Louise often stayed with her, and she knew everyone. 'Take the chit to Almack's,' her grandfather had ordered, without considering how she might achieve this. Apart from the problem that Matilda, as the daughter of a tradesman, albeit a wealthy one, would not be acceptable to the patronesses, Louise no longer knew any of these august ladies. But her mother would, and if she could obtain vouchers she would do so. Louise sat down and wrote begging her mother's help, sending one of the footmen round to Mount Street with the note.

  She was waiting in the library when Mr Littleton arrived. He took her over the house and she began to learn the names of some of the servants. When she queried the number, he briskly informed her that Mr Hoyland had given him a list and he had to abide by it. 'If he says you must have two footmen as well as a butler, that is what you will have to have,' he told her. 'Be grateful he did not think to add a page and a door porter.'

  'Heavens, he might have done!'

  'I have taken the liberty of asking a dressmaker to call later today, with patterns. I thought she could make up some simple muslin gowns for Miss Hoyland until you have the opportunity of going shopping.'

  'For me too,' Louise said. 'You do realise that apart from one evening gown this rag I am wearing is the only gown I have here? I was summoned to Bath, and from there, without any warning, pitchforked to London.'

  He looked shocked. 'No, I'm afraid I didn't know. But you look charming,' he added awkwardly. 'I understand from Mr Hoyland's letter that I will be going to Rushton Manor to fetch your jewellery. Can I bring your gowns? And is there anything else you would like from there?'

  Louise thought longingly of her favourite books, but here in London she could buy new ones. As for her painting materials, again she could purchase whatever she needed. But she would use her own money, as she would for any new gowns. It would be infamous of her to take advantage of her grandfather's liberality with Matilda's money to buy things for herself.

  Soon afterwards the dressmaker arrived and Mr Littleton bowed himself away.

  'I will set off for Bath early tomorrow, and probably be back here in four days. Goodbye, Lady Rushton, and good luck.'

  She felt suddenly bereft, and wondered at his parting remark. However, it was soon forgotten as she and the dressmaker discussed styles and selected some of the muslins she had brought. Louise succumbed to the delights of choosing some for herself, and the woman promised she and her girls, for she employed half a dozen seamstresses, would have at least two gowns ready for Louise by the day after tomorrow.

  'And tomorrow I'll come again for the young lady to make her choice.'

  *

  'I don't think much of this!' Matilda complained. 'Look at those miserable hovels! If all London is like this I prefer Harrogate and York.'

  'This is just a village on the outskirts,' Miss Pudsey explained. Only, please God, another hour!

  She shut her eyes and tried not to listen to Matilda's comments, but at least as they reached the centre of Mayfair the child was complimentary. Until they reached Half Moon Street.

  'These are small, even if they do have four or five storeys,' she said, sounding disgruntled. 'I can't have parties here. We'll have to move. Those houses we saw in the square would be more suitable.'

  'You'll have to discuss it with Lady Rushton,' Miss Pudsey sighed, thankful to pass the problem to someone else. 'At least it's near the Park.'

  'Hyde Park? Oh good, I'll be able to walk there every day. And ride out and drive when I have a carriage. I've decided I'll certainly have a perch phaeton, like that one we saw just now.'

  'Er, no, that's Green Park at the end of the street, across Piccadilly.'

  'Oh. Well, I don't suppose Hyde Park is far away, from the map you showed me.'

  While they talked the footman was pounding the knocker. A plump, smiling butler opened the door and Matilda was helped from the coach, followed by Miss Pudsey. The ladies were ushered into the house and Matilda looked round and sniffed.

  'I don't like it here,' she announced. 'Who are you? Are you my duenna?'

  Louise, who had been reading in the drawing room, trying to finish her novel, was coming down the stairs.

  'I am Lady Rushton, yes. And you must be Matilda.'

  'Miss Hoyland,' Matilda began, but she was ignored as Louise went past her to shake Miss Pudsey's hand.

  'You look exhausted. Come up to the drawing room and I'll send for tea straight away.'

  'I don't like tea,' Matilda announced.

  'Then you need not have any. I'll send for some lemonade.'

  'I'll have ratafia. I have
that when I go to parties in Yorkshire.'

  'I don't have any. But come upstairs while your luggage is being taken to your room, then you can change. Is your maid with you?'

  'No, the stupid girl wouldn't leave her husband, one of my gardeners, so I dismissed her. I'll have to hire a new one, but I imagine London maids are better anyway, so it didn't matter.'

  'I'm sure Mr Littleton will arrange it.'

  'That old woman! He'll engage some dowdy old frump. I'll choose one myself, thank you.'

  They had reached the drawing room, and Louise guided Miss Pudsey to a chair near the fire. Louise turned to Matilda and pointed to the sofa. Matilda, shrugging, sat down.

  'Matilda, I am to be responsible for you now, and you will do as I say. If you do not mend your atrocious manners I'll pack you straight back to Yorkshire.'

  Matilda was puce with temper. 'No one speaks to me like that! You can't send me home! You're being paid to chaperone me! I – I – '

  Louise laughed. 'I am not being paid. I gave in to my grandfather and agreed to come to London, little though I wished it. Now I have met you I want it even less. I can and will send you home unless you do as I say. You will not speak of your elders, and moreover, one who is employed by your great-uncle, in such a manner. If you continue to behave like a badly brought up child of ten, I can assure you no one will want to know you, and only a fool more interested in your money than you would ever make you an offer. So if you want to be accepted in the ton take heed.'

  Louise turned away, sat on a chair beside Miss Pudsey, and gave her a sympathetic look. The woman almost broke into tears, but fortunately the butler and the parlourmaid arrived with tea and small almond cakes, and she was able to regain her composure as they were handed round.

  'Thank you so much. I do have a headache,' she admitted. 'It was being closed up for so long in the coach.'

  And listening to this spoilt brat, Louse thought.

  'After you've had your tea, would you like to lie down?'

  'Oh, no thank you, my lady. I am going to my sister in Chelsea, so if you would be kind enough to call a hackney I can soon be on my way.'

  'I'll send you with my coachman. Swayne, can you arrange it?'

  'Of course, my lady.'

  'I'd like to go to my room,' Matilda said, and smiled. She had had time to think, and realised that Lady Rushton was not, as she had expected, a paid companion who could be made to do as she wished, like her servants back in Yorkshire, but some sort of cousin, a member of the family. She had believed the threat to send her home, and this was something to be avoided, although it meant she had to obey her chaperone. But Matilda knew she could always get her own way if she put her mind to it, even if it meant pretending to be sweet and compliant.

  'I expect my maid Peg will be there to help you unpack. You need not change for dinner tonight, no doubt you are tired. And tomorrow we will hire a new maid for you.'

  *

  Louise saw Miss Pudsey on her way. The woman had revived considerably once Matilda had left the room. She was no doubt thankful to be rid of such a difficult charge. Louise wondered how long she would be able to endure the child before she lost her temper and carried out her threat. Oh well, her mother had replied to her note and promised to come round the following morning. She would know where best to hire a maid for Matilda. An older one, Louise planned, one who would not be intimidated by the girl. And Matilda, even though she seemed to have brought several trunks full of gowns, would doubtless enjoy choosing more.

  Louise sat down and made a list of the other necessities she must purchase. Her pelisse was an old one. She could hardly wear Richard's driving cloak, so she'd have to buy another, more suitable for a lady. She had no hats or shoes other than those she had travelled in. She needed reticules for day and evening, ribbons and other trimmings for the muslin gowns now being made for her, an umbrella, one or two fans, another shawl, shoes and stockings, and perhaps some embroidery to occupy her hands and prevent her from slapping Matilda!

  Matilda, dressed in a demure white gown, appeared in the drawing room before dinner, and went straight to Louise, who was wearing her one evening gown.

  'Lady Rushton, I am so very sorry about my behaviour this afternoon. Please will you forgive me, and I promise never to let my temper ride me again.'

  Louise raised her eyebrows. She had to accept such an abject apology, but she was wary. Was this the true Matilda, or could she dissemble so thoroughly?

  'Thank you, Matilda,' she said. 'Now shall we forget it? I have a dressmaker bringing some muslins tomorrow morning, and if you choose some she can have them made up quickly. What sort of clothes did you bring with you? Have you many evening gowns?'

  'Yes, but they are ancient, at least a year old. And there are the ball gowns I wore to the Assemblies, but I'm sure they are not good enough for London.'

  'Perhaps some of them can be altered, if you like them particularly.'

  'Yes, and please, Lady Rushton, will you call me Tilda? I think Matilda is so old-fashioned.'

  'Very well. Now, let's have dinner. Are you hungry? Tell me about your journey. I have never been to Yorkshire.'

  The meal passed off remarkably well, Louise thought when she was finally able to retreat to bed. She had seen the occasional rebellious gleam in Matilda's eyes, but the girl had controlled her tongue. Perhaps all would be well. Now her own task was to get the child betrothed as soon as possible. Her fortune, though not exceptional by London standards, was respectable enough to attract suitable men, and despite what Matilda seemed to believe, not enough to draw the gazetted fortune hunters. Nonetheless, she must ask her mother who these latter were, so that she could avoid them. Grandfather Hoyland would not thank her if he had to hand over Matilda's money to a penniless adventurer.

  *

  The next two days passed in an orgy of shopping. Lady Barlow knew all the best shops, and was herself a customer of the most fashionable modistes. She was able to persuade the latter to set aside their other commissions and devote themselves to making gowns for Louise and Matilda. Louise was thankful to hand over most of the arrangements to Lady Barlow, who looked far too young to be her mother. She had the same dark blonde hair, but her eyes were a pale blue and perhaps her perfect complexion owed something to cosmetics. Her figure was still youthful, and she smiled often, showing white, even teeth. It was no wonder, Louise thought, that she had married again just a year after her husband, Joseph's only son, had died.

  'The dresses you have are very nice, child,' Lady Barlow told Matilda, when she had inspected them, 'but you need a bit of town bronze. Your own will do very well for every day, and perhaps small dinner parties that Louise will be arranging, but for the important balls, and for Almack's, that is if I can get you vouchers, you need new ones.'

  'What do you mean, if you can get me vouchers?' Matilda demanded. 'I have to go there, I have to! Great-uncle Joseph said I must go. They call it the Marriage Mart, and that's where I can meet suitable men. That's supposed to be the reason I came to London, to find a suitable husband.'

  'Old Joseph Hoyland doesn't know London,' Lady Barlow said. 'He doesn't know any of the patronesses, and they are very fussy about giving out vouchers. Your family is not known to any of them, and what is worse, an obstacle almost impossible to overcome, their fortune derives from trade and manufacturing.'

  Matilda was aghast. 'You mean, because the Hoylands were successful businessmen I am not welcome? Even with my fortune?'

  'I will do my best,' Lady Barlow said, suppressing a sigh. 'But you must try to make a good impression should we meet any of the patronesses. I will invite one or two of them to tea, where they can meet you. But you must do your part. You must not frown when something offends you. You must pay attention, even if you think the conversation tedious because you do not know the people being mentioned. And there must on no account be the sort of tantrum you treated us to the other day. That would be fatal for your chances, and your reputation in all the ton would never r
ecover.'

  Recalling this episode, Louise shuddered. The dressmaker had brought more materials to the house, and Matilda had instantly selected a dark blue satin for a ball dress, and a puce velvet which she insisted would be perfect for a pelisse, if trimmed with sable. The dressmaker had explained that the materials were ordered for an elderly dowager, not brought for her approval. When Lady Barlow had told her that no debutante could wear either colour, and the dowager herself would look a fright in them, she had argued and then, losing the argument, sulked until Louise had threatened to send her back to Yorkshire with a strict governess, where she might wear whatever unsuitable garments she chose.

  For the past few days she had been subdued, but Louise had no confidence this mood would last. She was daily expecting a new outburst, but Matilda seemed to have settled for the pale colours which were all she was permitted. She showed decided preferences for the kind of trimmings she wanted, and Louise and her mother were only too willing to allow her to have her way over these.

  'Almack's is very tedious,' Lady Barlow said when she and her husband, Sir Martin, came to dine. 'You will meet suitable men elsewhere, and I will make sure you are introduced to all the important hostesses, and invited to their balls. You must begin to make friends with the other girls making their come-outs this year, so that you are invited to their parties.'

  'I don't like the girls I've met so far,' Matilda protested. 'They want to know all about my family, and when I have to admit I have no noble relations they don't want to talk to me.'

  'You haven't met many yet,' Louise tried to console her. 'Just a few we met in the Park.'

  'And I am letting all my friends with young families know I have a cousin visiting, as well as my daughter, and invitations are beginning to arrive.'

  'The Season's hardly begun, child,' Sir Martin said. 'In a few weeks you will be wondering how you can fit in four engagements every evening.'