Picture Perfect (7 page)

‘Lady Beresford,’ he replied in a low voice. ‘Justine Beresford’s mother.’

‘And that was Justine.’ So she had seen her, yet still her first concern had been for Lady Beresford’s needs and Jack found himself admiring her for it.

‘Hannah...’

Lady Beresford had opened her eyes and Jack suddenly felt the need to act quickly. Whatever was going on, the middle of the ballroom was not the right place for it to unfold itself. ‘If you will allow me, Lady Beresford,’ he said, offering his arm, ‘I will assist you.’

At that moment Justine and two footmen pushed their way through the ring of interested spectators which had formed around the scene. ‘If the lady would like to recover in one of the retiring rooms I shall see that some refreshments are brought immediately,’ the more senior of the footmen said, bowing to Lady Beresford.

Jack nodded briskly at the footman. ‘Thank you, that would be very helpful.’ Lady Beresford was leaning heavily on his arm, but he tried to make his support as unobtrusive as possible as he escorted her in the wake of the senior footman, with the younger footman trailing rather nervously behind. Annabel, he realised, had relinquished her contact with Lady Beresford, but hovered next to them as they walked and still seemed unwilling to take her eyes off the older woman.

Lady Beresford recovered some of her poise as they walked, which was just as well because sotto vocé snatches of conversation filtered through to them as they passed. ‘She’s the spitting image, by Gad,’ ‘Two peas in a pod,’ ‘Who on earth is the other one?’ Justine inched nearer, clearly unnerved and Jack was heartily glad when they reached the doorway to the retiring room.

He turned to the lady who had come forth with the lavender water and who had accompanied them. ‘Thank you for your assistance, please don’t let us involve you further.’

Surprisingly she didn’t take the hint and depart but instead looked at him rather archly and said, ‘But I
am
involved, clearly Annabel is a part of this and I am her mother.’

‘That’s not entirely true,’ Lady Beresford said, her voice sounding strained but sure. ‘You see her name is Hannah and
I
am her mother.’

Rather stunned, Jack let go of Lady Beresford’s arm and took a step back as the two society matrons faced each other, and while they looked not entirely hostile, they appeared far from friendly either. He cast around quickly for Lord Beresford, but he was nowhere to be seen, he was probably already deeply involved in a game in some distant part of the house and Mrs Black also appeared to be unaccompanied. Inwardly sighing he realised he was the only man present and as such he had a duty to protect the reputation of the Beresford family whom he counted among his friends.

‘Lady Beresford, Mrs Black,’ he said with more authority than he felt, and glad that he was able to recall Annabel’s erstwhile surname, ‘please come inside and take a seat. I am quite sure both of you would prefer to continue this discussion in private.’

Lady Beresford looked at him as if she didn’t know who he was, but Mrs Black inclined her head graciously and said ‘You are quite right. And, young man, would you be so kind as to send someone to fetch my husband Colonel Black?’

‘Of course,’ Jack said, feeling a little put out at being unincluded, but seeing no gracious way to refuse the request.

‘Do you remember my father from the viewing?’ Annabel said suddenly. ‘You must remember him; we were almost the last people to leave.’ For the first time in many minutes Jack looked at her and felt his heart contract when he saw how pale she was. He wondered if she were about to faint, but it seemed she was made of sterner stuff. She looked at him with eyes wide with trust, and then, as if utterly sure she could rely on him, her gaze was drawn as if by a magnet, to Justine.

‘And Papa,’ Justine added, looking at Annabel, not himself. ‘Kindly fetch my father.’

‘Of course,’ Jack repeated and closed the door on the four women.

It was almost like looking in a mirror, Annabel thought, and yet in other ways it was very much not. Justine’s hair was far more artfully done than her own and here and there little diamonds twinkled in it, while in her own a simple twist of jonquils complemented her dress. And as for Justine’s dress, the deep rose satin seemed to mould itself to her breasts, with a far lower décolletage than anything Annabel possessed, while the sheer under dress falling from the high waist more than hinted at her womanly figure and was only just made modest by the gauzy chiffon overdress in the same deep rose. Annabel could not imagine daring to wear such a dress, although a small voice at the back of her mind suggested that if such apparel made Justine look so desirable, the same would be true for her. She quickly shook her head to rid herself of such notions, her mother would never countenance her dressing in such a way, and her new dresses were all lovely, simply cut and in beautiful spring colours as befitting a young, new debutante. It was no wonder Mr Denham so readily believed that she was not Justine, she had nothing like Justine’s sophistication.

Justine regained her poise, or at least enough of it to speak first. ‘I don’t believe we have met,’ she said, the formulaic phrase belied by the continued look of incredulity on her face. ‘I am Justine Beresford, and may I present my mother Lady Beresford.’ She gave the slightest of curtsies, but more as if she were unwilling to trust her own balance than as if she weren’t sure what measure of politeness was appropriate.

‘I’m Annabel,’ Annabel was relieved that her voice came out quiet, but calm, ‘and this is my mother, Mrs Judith Black.’ She waited for a moment, expecting her mother to add something, but uncharacteristically Mrs Black seemed to be at a loss for words. Mercifully there was a knock at the door. Annabel swung it open, expecting it to be her father and hoping, although she did not imagine what he might do to help the situation, that it was Mr Denham, but it was a pair of maids, one bearing a tea tray and the other a tray of pastries.

As soon as the maids had gone Justine spoke. ‘Will someone please tell me what is going on? No, I don’t want any tea, thank you,’ she added irritably. Annabel saw that her mother’s hands were trembling ever so slightly and she hastily relieved her of the teapot and continued pouring three cups. No one replied and the door opened once more and Colonel Black and another man, whom Annabel presumed must be Lord Beresford, were ushered into the room by Mr Denham.

‘Wait, Denham,’ Lord Beresford said, fitting his monocle in his eye and peering directly at Annabel, ‘You say you know the girl, you may be of some help then. Stay.’

Lady Beresford went up to her husband and clutched his arm. ‘It’s Hannah,’ she said. ‘Our little Hannah, lost so long ago, and now here she is and these people claim she is their daughter.’

Colonel Black’s jaw fell and then his face contorted with fury. ‘Annabel is our daughter!’ he said, and Annabel had never before heard him so angry. ‘We adopted her, legally adopted her from Coram’s Foundling hospital, but more than that, we’ve raised her for the last sixteen years and she’s our daughter through and through, whatever her origins may have been.’

‘What the devil was she doing at Coram’s?’ Lord Beresford demanded. ‘She’s not a seaman’s child.’

‘She was found washed up on the shore of the Thames, on the Strand,’ Mrs Black said. ‘The people who found her took her to the foundling hospital but Coram’s couldn’t keep her of course, and I was visiting the hospital…’

‘So you simply took our daughter, without attempting to find out who she was, a two year old, obviously from a good home, no wonder you wanted her, she would have been a cut above that bunch of ragged orphans!’ Lord Beresford snarled.

‘How dare you speak to my wife that way!’ Colonel Black snapped at the same time as Mrs Black said ‘It wasn’t like that! She had been at Coram’s for a month, no one knew who she was and they were about to send her to the poorhouse. Do you know how few children survive such an experience? We had to take her!’

‘Please…’ Annabel whispered, she had never witnessed her parents in conflict with others before and she felt torn apart, but although she was the very thing they were arguing about, no one seemed to hear her. ‘Please…’

‘Excuse me,’ it was Mr Denham. ‘I wouldn’t otherwise intrude, but, Lord Beresford, you asked me to stay. Miss Black is becoming very distressed to find herself being discussed like this. Could you please consider her feelings and calm yourselves?’ They all turned to look at him and Annabel felt profoundly grateful for his intercession.

‘Hannah,’ Lady Beresford said, stepping into the brief silence and taking Annabel’s unprotesting hands in her own. ‘Hannah, you must remember me, I am your mother!’

Annabel looked at the commanding woman before her, society to the hilt, and not the sort of person likely to be numbered among her mother’s close friends, although most of the committees Mrs Black sat on seemed to be presided over by someone of her ilk. She desperately wanted to say
No, you’re not my real mother, I don’t remember you at all
, but she suddenly realised that that would not be entirely truthful. ‘You do…’ she glanced at Mrs Black, feeling as if she were betraying her mother in the most reprehensible way. ‘You do look a little familiar.’ It was true, although she couldn’t possible claim to recognise Lady Beresford, neither could she shake the certainty that they had met before.’

‘There you have it!’ Lord Beresford said triumphantly.

‘It means nothing!’ Colonel Black snapped back. ‘She’s still our daughter!’

‘I don’t understand!’ Justine cried out over the top of them.

Lady Beresford kept her hold on Annabel’s hands but drew her other daughter closer with a look. ‘Hannah is your twin,’ she said. ‘She was lost when we were in Bath for the summer. The whole town was searched and we thought she had been kidnapped.’

‘But we never received a ransom note,’ Lord Beresford took up the tale. ‘We sent away the nurse who had charge of you both of course, dismissed her without a character, but it was too late, the damage was done and we never laid eyes on Hannah again.’

‘Until tonight,’ said Lady Beresford. She smiled at Annabel and suddenly there were tears in her eyes and Annabel found herself liking her all the better for them.

‘The question is, what is Miss Black to do now?’ Mr Denham said quietly, but everybody heard him.

Annabel suddenly found she was dreadfully tired and she couldn’t possibly imagine wanting to dance any more tonight. ‘I should like to go home,’ she said softly.

‘Of course,’ Mrs Black said, moving to put her arm around her. ‘Thomas, would you please send for the carriage?’

‘Home!’ Lady Beresford exclaimed, ‘Of course you’re coming home, with us, to your true home in St James’ Square!’

‘Quite right,’ Lord Beresford said. ‘We’ve just found you, we’re not about to risk losing you again!’

‘Really, sir!’ Colonel Black’s face was red with anger. ‘I cannot possibly allow you to spirit away my daughter in such a fashion. I won’t hear of it!’

‘Hannah is
my
daughter and she is under my protection,’ Lord Beresford said heavily, but Annabel was pleased to see that Colonel Black did not seem impressed.

‘Annabel is my daughter,’ he countered. ‘We adopted her sixteen years ago, if you were so careless as to lose her once, you can hardly expect us to entrust her to you now!’

‘Careless!’ Lady Beresford shrieked, at last releasing Annabel, tears streaming down her face. ‘I was heartbroken! Can you imagine, sir, what it is to lose a child?’

‘As you are attempting to take Annabel from us right now, I can imagine it all too easily,’ Colonel Black said heatedly.

It was horrible to hear herself argued over in this way, and it was made even more horrible by the fact that Annabel could see both points of view. Mr and Mrs Black were to all intents and purposes her parents, she loved them and she was quite certain of their love for her, but undeniably, given her resemblance to Justine, Lady Beresford was the mother who had given birth to her and loved her for her first two years and she didn’t know to whom she owed her loyalty. For the moment the Blacks and the Beresfords were ignoring her as they glared at each other. Suddenly Annabel could bear it no longer and she bolted from the room.

‘Stop her!’ she heard Lord Beresford cry out from behind her as if she were a scullery maid making off with the best silver, ‘Out of my way, man!’ It seemed that someone was obstructing him, but Annabel had no time to look back and see who, she was simply grateful not to be pursued.

The ballroom had filled up even more while they had been closeted away and Annabel threaded her way through the crowd, fairly confident that she was obscured from view. But the ballroom offered no place of solitude in which she could think. Hastily she opened the first door she came to, it led onto a short corridor and she yanked open the nearest door it held, only to shut it just as hastily. The room held a party of men, all intent on their gaming except one who looked up at her and frowned at the intrusion. The next door she came to opened onto a retiring room, which was at present dimly lit and occupied. Quite sure she would be equally unwelcome there, Annabel closed the door as quietly as she could and tiptoed on. The end of the corridor opened up into a wide gallery containing a collection of paintings. Annabel relaxed at last. Although no lamps were lit, moonlight streamed in through three large windows and she felt quite sure that none of the other guests were likely to quit the dance floor or other pleasures of the ball in order to admire Lord Lockton’s art collection, she would be undisturbed.