Chapter 37
Any of Lucy’s fears that the truth of her trip might be discovered were assuaged over the following week.
There was little talk of anything but the dissolution of the engagement and the fall of the Wyndham family fortunes.
Lucy did not meet with Charlotte, who found herself both heartsick and forced into the uncomfortable business of cataloguing and packing her belongings.
In correspondence, Charlotte explained that for the time being, they were to move in with her mother’s sister in Kent.
She was a wealthy widow who, while openly derisive of her brother-in-law, was looking forward to company in her home.
It would be a smaller and more modest life than the one Charlotte knew, but it was acknowledged that they were fortunate to have a relative able to take them in.
Lucy hoped that, once the shock of events had passed, Charlotte would be able to find a level of contentment.
The recent visit to the castle ruins had shown Lucy that the stateliness of one’s dwelling was not a barrier to happiness, so long as it was warm and dry.
She also had no doubt that Charlotte’s effortless cheer and charm should quickly ingratiate her into the society of her new home on the south-east coast.
Charlotte had thanked Lucy for her letter, for her past advice, and told her that, if there were no level heads to be found in Folkestone, she should write to Lucy again for her perspective.
She made no mention of the phantom, either forgotten outright or perhaps set aside due to the harshness of real-life affairs.
Lucy thought it for the best, as she feared Charlotte might attach all manner of prophetic meaning to the curious event.
The Wyndhams departed with little fanfare, and Lucy wondered if she might never hear from them again.
They were moving to a different part of the country and into a different level of society.
Now that the initial gossip had passed, she noticed that the family was seldom spoken of, as if people feared to mention their name lest a similar fate befall them.
Or perhaps the discomfort came from the unpleasant truth that one’s status in the world was not so set and secure as it might seem.
If the Wyndham family could come to ruin, then could not any family end up the same?
And so events and discussion in the district moved on, more often now focused on the weather and the growing heat of summer.
Lucy also turned her attention back to more familiar elements: the sketching of engineering designs and the mystery of the coach robberies.
In more practical terms, there were other elements of her trip that needed addressing.
The dress she had worn while examining coaches was, as she had suspected, beyond salvage.
That was the opinion of Mrs Calloway when presented with it.
A full laundering had failed to remove all the dirt and oil marks, and several tears were now visible.
The seamstress tutted and shook her head as she looked over the garment.
‘Are you quite sure this is yours, Miss Elliot? It wasn’t borrowed from a chimney sweep or a ditch digger?’
Lucy shook her head, and the woman glanced about the store to check the place was free of prying eyes and ears.
‘Miss Elliot. It is not my place to question your activities. But I do hope this is not a sign of inappropriate behaviour on your part.’
‘Whatever do you mean?’
‘Not to put too fine a point on it, but this dress seems to have spent extended periods of time on its back outdoors. A young lady might want to avoid certain assumptions being made.’
‘Oh!’ Lucy gasped, blushing immediately. ‘I can assure you it was nothing so salacious. I am quite ignorant of such things … well … not ignorant. There are books on anatomy. But I am wholly inexperienced … Not that I … I do believe I should sit down.’
There was very quickly a chair behind her, and she drew deep breaths until the embarrassment had faded a little.
‘I have,’ she explained, ‘recently been involved in the engineering of coaches, some manner of which required the examination of undercarriages.’
Mrs Calloway paused, briefly chewing the end of her pencil. ‘Are you perhaps involved in the Night Races?’ the seamstress asked.
Lucy was so surprised to hear these words come from the woman that she could not conceal her amazement. ‘It is certainly tangential to that. But … I have never seen you at any of the races.’
‘Oh, I don’t attend these days. But that was where I first met Mr McDonald.
He used to race back in the day. He was quite awful at it, but it made him seem ever so brave.
He had a bad crash and that was the end of it.
I don’t think he misses it. A foolish young man’s game.
But I know how alluring it can all be.’ She put the dress aside.
‘A little padding and it might make fine farm clothes for a young lady. I think its time at Atherton is done.’
She turned her attention from the dress back to Lucy, looking her over. ‘I could work on something for you. In case you ever found yourself examining coaches again. Something a little sturdier to save you ruining another dress.’
‘I’m unsure if I shall have the opportunity again, but having such a garment would be sensible.’
‘Well then, you leave it with me. I’m sure I can pull something together. Do you have a laundry girl with a level of discretion?’
Lucy nodded, confident Molly could add anything into the laundry pile without raising attention.
‘That settles it then. Is there anything else I can do for you today?’
‘As a matter of fact, there is. In regards to Charlotte Wyndham’s … no longer wedding …’
‘I’m afraid I can’t do much with the dresses. They were all tailored very precisely by the London firm.’
‘That is not my concern. I’m sure Margaret will have fine opportunities to wear hers. I am referring to Charlotte’s wedding dress. I understand that she commissioned you to create it. Was it completed?’
‘Yes. Completed and now folded up in a box in the back room. Costly as it was, I could not be so heartless as to charge the girl for a dress she could no longer afford or wear.’
‘I should like to pay for it.’
‘I appreciate the offer, Miss Elliot, but I cannot accept charity.’
‘It is not charity. I wish to purchase it as a gift to be sent to Miss Wyndham.’
‘Whatever for?’
‘I know some might see it as a callous act. I do not believe it so. She is not to marry George St Martin. But I must believe that a woman as pleasant and sociable as Charlotte will marry before long. I should like to remind her of that fact and outfit her in advance of that day.’
There was a pause before the dressmaker replied. ‘You are a curious creature, Miss Elliot.’
‘I suspect that you are neither the first nor the last to say so.’
Leaving the store, Lucy was surprised to catch sight of Margaret across the street, engaged in conversation with Oliver St Martin.
For a moment Lucy pondered leaving them to talk but, positioned as she was, she could neither stay in place nor move away without the pair catching sight of her.
She crossed the street slowly, giving them adequate forewarning of her arrival.
‘Miss Elliot.’ The younger St Martin bowed his head to her.
‘Mr St Martin.’
‘Was your trip to the dressmaker a profitable one?’ Margaret enquired.
‘Alas, the dress was beyond saving for purpose. But Mrs Calloway was quite confident it would be of use as farm clothes.’
‘They are a credit to our town,’ Oliver noted. ‘I cannot say how fine it is to have a tailor so adept at alteration.’
‘Indeed.’ Margaret nodded. ‘Mr St Martin was just inviting us to a ball.’
‘A ball?’ Lucy exclaimed. ‘At St Martins?’
‘Correct,’ Oliver said. ‘Though I must express it is in a wholly unofficial capacity that I make such an invitation. I hope I do not steal the thunder of my brother, for the misconceived notion is entirely his idea.’
Lucy wondered at the sombre tone to his words. ‘Why do you say misconceived?’
‘The breaking of the engagement with Charlotte Wyndham is still fresh in the minds of the district. My brother is of the opinion that such a social gathering will distract that attention and reaffirm the goodwill of people towards him.’
‘You do not agree?’
‘It is ill-timed. It is more likely that people will perceive it as callous, perhaps even seeing through to his insecure motivations.’
‘Is that what you believe?’
‘I have never been able to discern the inner workings of my brother’s mind. But, thankfully, so many of his thoughts seem on the surface level that it is hardly necessary. He is impulsive and his intentions seldom extend beyond his own self-interest.’
‘Surely you do your brother wrong?’ Lucy was surprised to hear such open disregard. Oliver was always a taciturn fellow, but not given to spitefulness. ‘I myself have been critical of his actions in this affair, but while his action may be callous, I am sure it is done with no malice.’
‘There is some truth in that. I am sure he believes that holding such a ball is in the best interests of the district.’
‘And your father,’ Margaret pointed out, ‘would certainly not agree to host such an event if he too did not see merit in it.’
‘They have been quite the pair of late. First in the matter of my brother’s wedding and now in the ball. My father is quite in favour of it, though I think it is an extravagance in such times.’
‘What times are those?’ Margaret asked, for he seemed to intimate more than merely the cancelled wedding.
‘Robert Wyndham’s fall came from a series of poor decisions.
But the origin of it was in what appeared to be a good investment that went bad.
The state of Europe and the former colonies has been erratic.
My father has always been astute in his finances, but I cannot help but think his attentions would be better focused on his accounts than on celebrations.
For my part I spread my investments thin and wide.
The gains are mild, but it is safer than wild speculation.
Had I known of the Wyndhams’ misfortune …
well, that much is done, I suppose. I pray that young Charlotte will recover herself in time. ’
‘Was your brother hurt by the revelation?’ Lucy asked.
‘Bitterly so. For days after, he was dour and snappish, not at all like his usual self. Perhaps this ball is not so ill an idea after all, as it has elevated him from his melancholy.’
‘When is the ball to take place?’ Margaret asked, sensing the topic of his brother was giving Oliver some discomfort.
‘A fortnight’s time. On Saturday evening.’
‘The full moon?’ Lucy asked.
‘Is it? I suppose it might be thereabouts.’ He shrugged.
Lucy reminded herself that the lunar cycle was not so prominent in the minds of the general population as it was in the thoughts of the devotees of the Night Races.
But a ball would quite derail any plans for a race event that evening.
Not only would many of the attendees be present at the ball, both guests and servants, but the traffic on the roads would make racing quite impossible.
It was a shame, as the early summer nights were ideal for racing, before the air got too hot and the nights too short to really enjoy them.
But the real world held precedence over the races and there was no way of avoiding it.
‘Are you returning to Atherton?’ Oliver asked politely. ‘If you came on foot, I should offer you both a coach ride home. It is not so far out of my way that it would inconvenience me.’
‘We should be delighted, Mr St Martin.’ Margaret smiled. ‘Are you done with your chores, Lucy?’
Lucy instinctively drew a map in her head. The detour was not as slight as he suggested, which indicated it might be offered to extend their company.
‘I have been hoping to thoroughly examine the new book arrivals at the shop,’ Lucy replied politely. ‘But it is a fine day, and I see no reason why you should not avail yourself of a coach ride without me, Margaret. I should enjoy a walk by myself.’
The sisters exchanged a glance they both very much hoped the young man was not aware of.
‘Indeed.’ Margaret nodded. ‘Mr St Martin, I shall gladly take up your offer. Lucy, I shall see you at home.’
‘Very well,’ Oliver said. ‘Good day, Miss Elliot.’
‘Good day, Mr St Martin.’ Lucy nodded.
The pair departed and Lucy strolled happily towards the shop to peruse again the books she had thoroughly examined not half an hour earlier.