Beatrice Goes to Brighton (7 page)

Hannah leaned her head on her hand and stared into the flames. Although not a very religious woman, she felt that she was flying in the face of Providence by moving out of her class. Once a servant, always a servant. One had to accept one’s station in life, however low, for that was where the Good Lord had put one.

‘If you don’t go,’ said Benjamin anxiously, ‘then
I
can’t go and I’ll never get to see the prince, not ever!’

Hannah, lost in her own worried thoughts, did not hear him. Was she such a bad woman? Look at the
matches she had made on her first three journeys. Had she not brought happiness to others? Was Mrs Cambridge such a saint, such a fine woman, that Hannah Pym should shrink before her snubs and be terrified at the thought of receiving more? Was she to sit here on the night of the ball, before this very fire, hearing the music in her head, seeing the prince only in her mind’s eye? She straightened up. ‘I shall go,’ she said quietly.

‘Knowed I could talk you out of the megrims,’ said Benjamin, and went off to make more tea.

Lady Beatrice faced her parents. They were seated opposite her in her drawing-room, side by side on a backless sofa, ramrod-straight. Her father, the earl, was a tall man who still wore his hair powdered. He had pale, cold eyes, set rather close together, and a large hooked nose. His countess was small and plump with fine eyes in a crumpled, discontented face. They were listening intently to their daughter.

‘So you see,’ Lady Beatrice was saying, ‘this son-
in-law
you have picked out held me up at gunpoint on the Brighton road and forced me into his carriage.’

The countess flicked open a small gold snuff-box and helped herself to a delicate pinch. ‘Such passion,’ she commented in a thin voice. ‘Very headstrong man, but the strength of his feelings for you does him credit.’

‘Fiddlesticks,’ said Lady Beatrice. ‘Are my feelings not to be taken into consideration? I despise and detest the man.’

‘From my observation,’ commented her father, ‘I have noticed you despise and detest all men.’

‘Perhaps my feelings for the opposite sex might have been warmer had you not seen fit to marry me off to a lecher and wastrel,’ snapped Lady Beatrice.

‘Oh, Blackstone?’ The countess shrugged. ‘An unfortunate rip. But he’s dead now. No, no, do not plague us with more protestations. You are still of an age to breed and we need an heir. Sir Geoffrey will do very well.’

Lady Beatrice surveyed her parents, wondering if there was anything she could say that would move them, wondering if there had ever been anything she could have said to spark some parental feeling from them. But they had had little do with her from the day she was born. She had been turned over to a
wetnurse
, then a nanny, then a governess, then sent to a seminary. She remembered returning from the seminary to find a houseful of guests and hearing her father ask a footman, ‘Who is that very pretty young lady? One of our guests?’ And the footman’s reply, ‘No, my lord, it is Lady Beatrice.’

That evening, for the first time, she had been asked to dine with her parents instead of taking her meal in the schoolroom. They had plied her with questions as to her talents – could she play the pianoforte, were her water-colours passable? – and, flushed and happy under all this sudden attention, Lady Beatrice had chattered away, elated to sense she had done
something
at last to bring herself to the attention of her parents. She was to learn all too soon that it was her
looks that had caused this sudden interest – looks that could be traded profitably on the marriage market.

‘So,’ she said bleakly, ‘you are still determined to turn me off should I not marry Sir Geoffrey?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said the countess, ‘but you will not do anything silly. Do we not give you a generous allowance for your clothes and jewels? You are our child and will not do anything to turn yourself into a pauper.’

‘I might put it to the test,’ said Lady Beatrice slowly. ‘Have you both thought of your reputations if I should end in the workhouse?’

‘Yes,’ said her father, ‘and it is fortunate you have been so thoroughly nasty to so many. No one would care. In fact, society might take a malicious delight in the spectacle of the haughty Lady Beatrice being humbled.’

‘Leave me,’ said Lady Beatrice wearily.

Both rose. ‘We shall go ahead with the
arrangements
for the wedding,’ said the countess. ‘A quiet affair, of course.’

When they had gone, Lady Beatrice sat feeling a lump rising in her throat. Her father had said, ‘No one would care,’ and that had hurt dreadfully, and then she thought of Hannah Pym. Miss Pym liked her, she was sure of that. Miss Pym would listen to her. Perhaps there was something Miss Pym could do.

She went alone to Hannah’s, without her maid, feeling she could not trust her own servants to be loyal to her. If Marianne came with her, Marianne would hear the conversation and might report it to the other
servants and one of those servants might report what she said to her parents.

Hannah was surprised but pleased to see Lady Beatrice and led her through to the parlour, where the fire still burned brightly.

‘It is an odd time of night to be making a call,’ said Lady Beatrice, handing her pelisse and walking-cane and gloves to Benjamin.

‘You are always welcome,’ said Hannah. ‘
Benjamin
, you may have the evening off.’

Benjamin glanced at the clock. Ten in the evening. ‘No, thank you, modom,’ he said.

‘I am asking you to take yourself off,’ said Hannah crossly. ‘If you do not wish to go out, then go to your room.’

Hannah wanted rid of Benjamin. She noticed the strain in Lady Beatrice’s face and knew she must want to talk privately.

Benjamin decided to go out. His fingers closed over the dice he kept in his pocket. He knew Hannah disapproved of his gambling, but he was determined his mistress should cut a dash in Brighton society and he knew she would need money to do that. He would not gamble much. Just get enough to hire a carriage and pair. Benjamin’s eyes gleamed. He felt his mistress should not be seen walking everywhere in Brighton.

Hannah offered Lady Beatrice tea, which she refused, and then asked her gently if there was anything troubling her.

Lady Beatrice, wondering why she had called,
feeling no one could help her now, said she merely had come on an impulse and had not realized the hour was so late. She rose to go.

‘No, I pray you,’ said Hannah, ‘do not leave. I am used to late hours. I am an odd companion for you, am I not? I have an undistinguished background and an undistinguished appearance. I wish my nose were straight and my vowels flawless.’

Lady Beatrice surveyed her. ‘You have very fine eyes, Miss Pym, a wealth of kindness, and a
distinguished
soul.’

‘You are kind. Most ladies of your caste would immediately shun me.’

Lady Beatrice sat down again and slowly removed her bonnet. ‘What were your parents like, Miss Pym?’

‘Perpetually worried, old before their time,’ said Hannah ruefully. ‘I left home very young and saw little of them after that. They died in a smallpox epidemic, as did my brothers and sisters. Mrs Clarence, my late employer’s wife, paid for their funerals.’

‘Did they give you affection?’

Hannah thought sadly of the damp basement in which she had been brought up. ‘They did not have much time for affection,’ she said. ‘They were very poor, and poverty does not allow much leisure for finer feelings. I gather, somehow, that you have just seen your parents.’

‘Yes, this very evening.’

‘And do they show any signs of relenting?’

‘No, not a whit.’

‘Have they considered that, should you not go ahead with this marriage and they carry out their threat, society will consider them monsters?’

Lady Beatrice gave a thin smile. ‘They pointed out, quite rightly, that I have alienated the affections of all. They have the right of it. I have hit out left and right because of my own misery and now must pay the price of being friendless.’

‘Except for me,’ said Hannah quietly. ‘Except for me.’

‘Miss Pym, I am deeply indebted to you. There! I declare you have made me cry.’

Tears rolled down Lady Beatrice’s cheeks and she fumbled in her sleeve for a handkerchief.

Hannah leaned forward and patted her hand. ‘It will do you good to cry,’ she said.

‘I – I f-feel so weak,’ sobbed Lady Beatrice. She dried her eyes and blew her nose. ‘I should be stronger. Surely I could earn some money, find a post as a governess.’

‘I think the life of a scullery maid is better than that of a governess,’ said Hannah. ‘Poor creatures. They are neither fish nor fowl. They are despised by master and servants alike. I have it! You can live with me!’

Lady Beatrice stared at her.

‘Why not?’ Hannah’s eyes were golden. ‘We should have to live very simply, you know. I plan to retire to some little cottage in the country. I meant to make a few more stage-coach journeys, but there is more to life than travelling. Just think, Lady Beatrice! You would perhaps find it tedious, but you would be free.’

‘Free,’ echoed Lady Beatrice, looking at Hannah almost shyly. ‘Why should you do this for me?’

‘Because we are friends, are we not?’

‘I could, you know,’ said Lady Beatrice, her large eyes beginning to sparkle. ‘How long have you rented this place for?’

‘Only three weeks.’

‘Splendid. You can move in with me, and … oh, let me see … I will need to give my servants notice … and … and I have a great quantity of jewels. We could sell those and have enough to keep us
comfortably
. Why did I never think of that? Oh, Miss Pym. The prison gates are opening at last. And I always thought I was a strong person. I could have done this before, or as soon as I heard about the planned wedding to Sir Geoffrey. It is all so simple. I do not need a carriage or jewels. Yes, I have a carriage of my own in London, although my parents hold the title deeds of my house there. I can sell both carriage and horses. What a vast amount of money we society people do spend. If I do not need to keep up appearances I can be quite comfortable. I do not even need to go to the Southerns’ ball.’

A shadow crossed Hannah’s face. ‘Oh, do go to this one ball, Lady Beatrice … for me. For Mrs
Cambridge
met me this day and told me not to go or it would be the worse for me, but I do want to see the prince.’

‘Then I shall go with you, and in my company, the Mrs Cambridges of Brighton will steer clear. When can you move in with me?’

‘Tomorrow,’ said Hannah. ‘But I must get
Benjamin
to take a letter to Lord Alistair telling him of my new address or he will not know where to fetch me for the ball.’

‘Ah, Lord Alistair,’ said Lady Beatrice thoughtfully. ‘I feel that one does not approve of me.’

‘I am sure you are mistaken,’ said Hannah firmly. She looked at the now flushed and radiant Lady Beatrice. Lord Alistair, thought Hannah, disapproved of the old Lady Beatrice. But perhaps, just perhaps, he could be encouraged to fall in love with the new model …

5

Benjamin, to Hannah’s surprise, was not pleased that they were to move into Lady Beatrice’s household. She thought he would have been delighted to be part of an aristocrat’s staff. But Benjamin said he was her footman and her footman alone and he would not take part in any other work in Lady Beatrice’s establishment.

‘You are too nice,’ said Hannah crossly. ‘Lady Beatrice is giving all her staff their marching orders and so you will soon be the sole servant again. Now as to the matter of the rent. Where is this Mr Barnstable? He surely wants to be paid something.’

‘Not he,’ said Benjamin. ‘Just you pack your things, modom, and leave Mr Barnstable to me.’

Benjamin went out in search of Mr Barnstable or Captain Barnstable or Colonel Barnstable, for he was sure he was a military man.

The rank turned out to be that of captain, as Benjamin soon discovered when he finally ran that gentleman to earth in the Ship Tavern. ‘I’d better count the silver,’ said the captain, getting to his feet.

‘Don’t you dare!’ said Benjamin shrilly. ‘If you got any complaints, you will find my lady resident with Lady Beatrice Marsham, and you’ll find that hutch of yourn a damned sight cleaner than it was when we moved in.’

‘You’re a mountebank,’ sneered the captain, ‘and that mistress of yours is no better. Foreign royalty indeed. I heard all about that trick.’

Benjamin removed his white gloves and struck the captain across the cheek with them.

The captain reeled back, horrified. His friends stared at Benjamin, outraged. ‘Have you run mad?’ gasped the captain. ‘I don’t duel with
servants
.’ He turned to his friends. ‘Here, help me drop this hothead off the end of the pier.’

Rough hands seized Benjamin and carried him out. He fought and struggled as he was borne
remorselessly
towards the pier.

Benjamin finally ceased to struggle and lay inert in their hands, but his brain was working furiously. ‘Hey!’ he cried out suddenly. ‘Ain’t that disgraceful? Imagine a lady going into the water without a stitch on.’

He was dropped unceremoniously on to the pier while his captors rushed to the edge and stared wildly in the direction of the bathing machines, crying, ‘Where? Where?’

But the day was cold and there was nothing to be seen and when they turned back the nimble figure of the footman was running hell for leather off the pier.

Lord Alistair Munro was surprised to receive a letter from Miss Pym in which she said she had moved in with Lady Beatrice. He felt Miss Pym was being duped in some way. He was sure Lady Beatrice had some ulterior motive and refused to believe she was being forced into marriage. But there was another surprise in store for him. On the day of the ball, an announcement appeared in the local paper to the effect that the engagement between Lady Beatrice Marsham and Sir Geoffrey Handford was at an end. He studied it for some time and then came to the conclusion that it was merely Lady Beatrice playing her old game but worse than before. She had rejected Sir Geoffrey in a public and humiliating way.

Lady Beatrice’s enraged parents called to find she was out walking with Miss Pym. Sir Geoffrey and his mother called, to be told she was ‘not at home’.

By evening, both Hannah and Lady Beatrice were secretly wishing they did not have to go to the ball. Hannah was sure she would be dreadfully insulted by one and all, and Lady Beatrice was sure Sir Geoffrey would make a public scene.

But she was deeply indebted to Hannah Pym and
could not bring herself to let that lady go on her own. Admittedly Hannah was being escorted by Lord Alistair, but Lady Beatrice knew Hannah needed the support of another woman. Lord Alistair could dance with Hannah only twice and that left acres of evening in which she could be attacked.

After her maid had dressed her, Lady Beatrice went to Hannah’s room and found to her amusement that Benjamin was trying to persuade his mistress to wear pink feathers in her hair. How he had come by the feathers, Hannah did not know, but she could not get him to listen when she protested that pink feathers would look ridiculous with a gold silk gown.

‘You must wear jewels, Miss Pym,’ said Lady Beatrice. ‘We shall both go armoured in my best jewellery.’ She herself was wearing a blue silk gown with a fairy-tale tiara of sapphires and diamonds on her black hair. She sent Marianne to fetch a diamond tiara and diamond necklace and then stood back to survey the effect as the necklace was placed around Hannah’s neck and the tiara on her sandy hair.

‘Very grand,’ she said at last. ‘You’ll do. Just look at all the jewels I have, Miss Pym. We will be able to live in great comfort. There are some pieces which belong to the Debrens and which must go back to my parents, but the rest are very fine and should fetch a good sum.’

Hannah was dazzled as she looked at her own reflection in the mirror. Who could snub a lady dressed in such magnificence? If only Sir George Clarence could see her now!

Then a shadow crossed her face. Lady Beatrice was now to be her friend and companion, the beautiful, the magnetic Lady Beatrice. Would Sir George be able to look on such a lady and keep heart-whole? A stab of jealousy hit Hannah and in that moment she thought of Lord Alistair Munro, so carefree, so single, so marriageable. Were he to fall in love with Lady Beatrice, all her troubles would be over, and Hannah would be free to see Sir George again without this dangerous beauty in tow.

Lord Alistair arrived promptly at eight o’clock and seemed to take it in good part that he was expected to escort Lady Beatrice as well.

‘I saw the announcement of the end of your engagement in the newspaper,’ he said, ‘so I assume your parents are reconciled to your single state. Miss Pym told me some Gothic tale that they would cut you off without a penny.’

Lady Beatrice went over to an escritoire in the corner of the drawing-room, took out a letter and handed it to him, saying, ‘This has just arrived.’

He raised his quizzing-glass and studied it, his thin eyebrows rising in surprise. It was from her father, the earl.

‘And how will you manage?’ he asked, putting the letter down.

‘I am to be Miss Pym’s companion,’ said Lady Beatrice gaily. ‘We are to reside in a cottage in the country and be very rustic. Oh, I wish I had thought of this before.’

‘Life in a cottage for such as you can be a dismal affair.’ Lord Alistair looked at her cynically. ‘No more parties or balls or hearts to break.’

Lady Beatrice gave a brittle laugh. ‘I know you have a low opinion of me, my lord, but pray forget it for this one evening – Miss Pym’s evening.’

Hannah felt very elated as she was helped into Lord Alistair’s open carriage, very conscious of the glitter of diamonds at her neck and on her head. The day had been dark and dismal, but now a low sun was sinking into the sea, the air was still and balmy, and the restless sea-gulls of Brighton screamed overhead.

The journey to Lord Southern’s house was only a few yards, in fact; they queued from Lady Beatrice’s house to the entrance of Lord Southern’s mansion rather than drove, but then, one must never arrive on foot.

All Hannah’s elation suddenly crumbled. For as they descended from the carriage, helped down by
Benjamin, resplendent in gold-and-black livery – where did he get it? wondered Hannah – here was Mrs Cambridge, and beside her, her friends, just arriving.

They stood and stared at Hannah and then began to titter and giggle maliciously. ‘Pay them no heed,’ urged Lady Beatrice. But Benjamin was suddenly in front of Mrs Cambridge and her group, a Benjamin white-faced, eyes aglitter, hands clenched. ‘Wot you staring at, you bleedin’ harpies, you rotten scum o’ the kennel, you daughters o’ whores!’

‘BENJAMIN!’ shrieked Hannah.

But his outburst had the desired effect. Clucking like a party of outraged hens, Mrs Cambridge and her friends scuttled quickly into the mansion.

‘That footman is disgraceful,’ said Lady Beatrice to Lord Alistair. ‘You should be taking him to task, not standing there giggling.’

‘True,’ he said with a grin. ‘How very true. But how refreshing to hear someone say what one would not dare say oneself.’

‘I shall speak to you later, Benjamin,’ said Hannah. ‘I have a good mind to send you away.’

Benjamin looked unrepentant as he doggedly followed them up the carpeted stairs. He was determined to wait in the hall with the other footmen so that he might have a good view of the Prince of Wales when he arrived.

Lady Beatrice and Hannah left their shawls in an ante-room, as if oblivious of the frosty stares from all the ladies present. But as they walked up the stairs,
Lady Beatrice said ruefully, ‘We must be prepared to take the wall this evening, for none will dare dance with us.’

But there were young gentlemen there who had never heard of Lady Beatrice’s hard-hearted
reputation
, and soon she was being solicited to dance.

Lord Alistair stood up with Hannah for the first country dance, but was curiously aware of every step that Lady Beatrice took. She looked younger, he thought. Perhaps with parents such as she possessed, there was much to be said in her defence. Mindful of his duties to his partner, he made sure he engaged Hannah for supper, and then, when the dance was over, led her to one of the gilt seats around the ballroom before going off to talk to his friends.

‘Of course, it is not Almack’s,’ said a dowager loudly beside Hannah, ‘so I suppose one must expect to have to rub shoulders with all sorts of peculiar people.’ Hannah knew this remark was intended for her own ears and was sorry that the reprehensible Benjamin was far away in the hall.

And then, as the cotillion which was being performed finally finished, a rustling and murmuring started up in the room. The Prince of Wales had arrived.

Lord Alistair came up to Hannah and held out his hand and then led her into the line that was being formed to greet the prince. Hannah steeled herself to forget the nastiness of her tormentors. This was a moment to treasure.

The Prince of Wales entered. He was fat and florid, his hair teased and curled all over his head, and his
watery blue eyes looking haughtily about. Lord Alistair realized that the prince was in a bad humour and wished suddenly he had not brought Hannah. Although the prince had been amused by Lord Alistair’s account of events, he had the fault of believing only the last person who spoke to him. Lord Alistair had a sinking feeling that some malicious gossip had given the prince an unflattering picture of this Miss Pym.

The prince came down the line, stopping here and there to exchange a few words, followed by Lord Southern. He came to a halt in front of Lord Alistair, looked at Hannah and at the sparkle of her diamonds, and said, ‘That female ain’t here, is she?’

In a colourless voice, Lord Alistair said, ‘May I present Miss Hannah Pym, Your Highness.’

Hannah sank into a court curtsy. The prince scowled down at her. Hannah raised her eyes to his. The prince saw they were full of tears. ‘Why do you cry, hey?’ he snapped.

‘Oh, sire,’ said Hannah Pym. ‘I am overcome with emotion. This night I have met England.’

The scowl left the prince’s face, for in Hannah’s eyes was simple adoration and that was something the touchy, oversensitive prince was not used to seeing in the eyes of his subjects. He forgot that he had recently heard that this Miss Pym was as common as the barber’s chair and had been putting about that he was in love with her. His fat cheeks creased in a flattered smile and he slowly held out his arm.

There was a little gasp, someone let out a slow hiss
of surprise, and the dazed Hannah took the royal arm and was led forward. At the head of the line, the prince turned and faced Hannah. ‘Now you can tell everyone you walked with royalty,’ he said indulgently.

‘If I could die now,’ said Hannah fervently, ‘I would die happy. I have long worshipped you from afar, sire.’

‘Tol-rol!’ said the prince dismissively, but highly delighted. ‘We are pleased to meet a lady of such character and breeding.’ He signalled to his friends and courtiers, who clustered around him as he was led away. Lady Jenks, a friend of Mrs Cambridge, whispered in her ear, ‘Did you hear
that
? Do you not think now the original rumour was true? He called her a lady of character and breeding. And look at the way her footman dared to abuse us!’

Hannah sat down again by the edge of the ballroom in a happy daze. The dowager beside her smiled and said, ‘I have not had the pleasure of your
acquaintance
. Miss Pym, is it not?’