CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Louisa wrote a letter to her mother in the afternoon and she was engaged in penning her thoughts upon the entertainments in Bath when Leece knocked and entered, bearing a well-wrapped parcel.
‘This has come for you, my lady.’
‘But I have nothing that I am awaiting from the dressmaker.’
‘It came by the carrier, my lady, from Berkshire.’
‘Oh. Perhaps it is something my mother has sent. Thank you, Leece. Put it on the table.’
‘Yes, my lady.’ He deposited the parcel, bowed and left the room as Louisa, curious, took up a small pair of scissors from a drawer in the writing table, and went to unwrap her parcel.
She frowned, for it was not her father’s writing, and, in fact, she could not recognise it at all.
She snipped the string, and began to draw back the brown paper.
She pulled it away to reveal a wooden box.
She stopped, and took a long intake of breath.
She knew it instantly, for how often had she been the one to place it upon the table and open it.
With a shaking hand, she took up the letter that accompanied the box, and sat, rather heavily.
The writing was a little spidery, but clear enough. 274
My dear Girl,
For a girl you have been to one as old as myself.
I beg that you will accept this from me with my gratitude, and in memory of our happy afternoons together where our combined failings made for entertaining games.
When you receive this I will have played my last game, and conceded, as we all do.
Do not be sad, my dear, for one does not go on for ever, and would not wish to do so.
One wearies of the World, especially when deprived of one’s Helpmeet in all things, and I face what is to be with equanimity and indeed anticipation of Reunion.
I hope that you will find a place for the chess set in your New Home in Somerset, and that you will find Someone with whom to play. Remember not to be too rash with your bishops and you will do well enough.
Bless you for the delight you gave an old fellow.
Ever your obedient Servant,
Alexander Cowley
Louisa wiped away a tear, and sniffed. It was such a typical thing for him to do.
She bit her lip, trying hard to obey his instruction not to be sad, and failing, and returned to the table to open out the board with its mellowed squares.
She ran her fingers over it, and then opened the box where the pieces had been wrapped in a little tissue paper for their long journey. She uncovered a white bishop.
‘I shall try not to be so rash with you, sir.’
275There was a knock at the door, and Leece announced Lord Barkby. She gazed at him with a sad, wavering smile.
‘Is something amiss?’ He came forward, frowning, and she extended her hand, which he took in both of his as best he was able. His look was searching.
‘I have received a gift, or rather a bequest. I think I may have spoken of a dear friend back in Berkshire, an elderly military man. Well, he has died, and … and he wanted me to have the chess set with which we played. He wrote me a letter too. I think that is what has upset me, for I ought not to be distressed that he has passed. He was very old, and life, he makes clear, had lost its attractions.’ She lifted the letter, and handed it to Lord Barkby, who read the short missive, and then looked at her.
‘A very nice gesture. He sounds a good sort.’
‘He was. He would always give an honest answer and sound advice, and he had a wonderfully wicked sense of humour. I wrote to him several times from Elliston Court, but after Christmas he did not write any more, and I heard he was in failing health. I did write one more letter, but it was difficult to find anything to say, being unsure of his condition.’
‘I am not sure I can be of help. I have not played chess for several years.’
‘Then you might be the ideal opposition, my lord. The general was a good player when he was younger, and used to play against my father. I would watch them, and from them I learnt, but I did not get the chance to play when I married, and grew rusty. General Cowley grew slower, and a bit forgetful, so we were a pretty even matched pairing.’ 276She swallowed hard.
‘I am sorry. It was such a shock, hearing nothing until the parcel arrived. I can only imagine it was sent upon his instruction as soon as he died, for I would otherwise have heard all about it from my family. I wonder if his son even knows. He is on Sir Rowland Hill’s staff. ’
‘One of “Daddy” Hill’s fellows, is he? Good general is Hill.’ He was still watching her, and went to the bell pull by the fireplace and rang for Leece. ‘You could do with a cup of tea, yes? Or since it is near the dinner hour, would a glass of sherry be better?’
‘I think that sherry would be good.’
Lord Barkby did not take command so much that he ordered the sherry, leaving the mistress of the house to do that for herself, and he then sat, perfectly happy to be silent, while she composed herself. When the wine was brought, she was able to hold her glass with a perfectly steady hand.
‘What a goose you must think me,’ she said, with a twisted smile.
‘Not at all, and I think you know what I think of you, but we will let that pass. I wanted to speak with you because I wondered if you knew that Miss Newent stands up with Hurstwood at every Assembly Room ball she attends, and that now he is making a great show of dancing with her and then departing early. No doubt it is because such entertainment is too tame for a man of his ilk, but it gives the chit the impression, which he fosters, that he only has eyes for her, and, mark you, since standing up with her twice would create gossip, he has told her he leaves after 277dancing once “for the sake of her reputation”. She has not the sense to see that for the ridiculous lie that it is.’
‘Oh no! If only you had been here to warn Mrs Newent. I thought her sensible, but this …’
‘It was from that lady I had the information. I paid a call upon her this afternoon, having reconnoitred and seen Miss Newent go out with a maid in attendance. In truth, short of keeping the girl away from the sort of entertainment where she is bound to meet young gentlemen, and that is what her mother needs to do to find her a husband, it is very difficult. If he attempted to stand up with her twice it would be different, but when he claims one dance only, then forbidding her to accept him as a partner would seem churlish. He has played a clever hand.’
‘She is not a card game, my lord.’ Louisa spoke a little sharply, because she felt guilty.
‘No, and I apologise. It was inconsiderate of me. It is just that the man makes me lose my temper just by thinking of him. You can be sure Gilmorton and I try to keep him from whispering sweet nothings in her ear in quiet corners, but our hands are, so to speak, as tied as her mother’s.’
‘And I am sorry too, sir. I did not mean to sound snappish.’ Her hand went to her brow. ‘There are times when I wish I had never met Lydia Newent.’
‘Forgive me, but is she so much a friend that you cannot now step back a little?’
‘Perhaps I could, my lord, but it was through me, unintentionally, that she met Lord Orlando, and to wash my hands of her upon the grounds of her na?ve innocence would be … dishonourable, in my view.’
278‘Yes, I can see it complicates matters. Your not being able to attend balls has enabled Hurstwood to outflank you.’
‘Despite my possession of cavalry, sir?’ She could not resist, and he gave a rueful grin.
‘Despite that.’ They stared at each other for some moments, sharing the amusement silently, then Louisa shook her head.
‘I am at a loss as to what to do further. Lydia is a girl without experience or intellect, and generally biddable, but Lord Orlando has made my warnings, and even her mother’s reminders to always be cautious in believing a gentleman’s avowals, seem petty and even outdated.
He has admitted to her that he “has been a little wicked” in the past, implying that her innocent goodness counters his tendency to err, and now she sees herself as his “path to salvation”.
She used those very words to me. It is as if she is walking towards a cliff, deaf to all warning, and in total ignorance of the precipice before her. ’
‘As I see it, the only real guarantee is to, er, move the precipice.’
‘And that is not easy, my lord.’
‘No, but there must be a way.’ He frowned, and was still frowning when Hetty Goodworth entered with apologies for being late upon her lips, even though she was not.
Mr Gilmorton accompanied Miss Brailes, whom he had encountered just before Pulteney Bridge, the rest of the way to Edward Street.
What he did not say was that he had planned his ‘ambush’ by loitering in the neighbourhood 279of the junction of Bridge Street and the High Street for a full ten minutes before he thought she might appear, and only then happened to ‘fortuitously’ see her with a maid in attendance.
It was therefore a very happy Miss Brailes, and indeed Mr Gilmorton, who presented themselves upon the doorstep of Lady Dembleby’s residence five minutes in advance of the appointed hour.
Miss Newent arrived by chair a few minutes after half past seven, with profuse, if jumbled, apologies about errant hairpins.
Whatever had happened, she now looked a perfect picture, and the sort of young lady to take any man’s breath away.
Lord Barkby, however, murmured ‘shepherdess’ very softly to his hostess when Miss Newent was distracted by a question from Hetty Goodworth.
She gave him a reproving look, but her eyes laughed.
Mr Gilmorton said all the right complimentary things, but Miss Brailes, in the afterglow of pleasure at his escort, thought his heart was not in it.
A revolutionary thought had taken hold of her that this might actually be because he found her own person rather more appealing.