Louise M. Gouge (19 page)

“And this is your protégée?” His bow over Anna’s hand was as elegant as the one he had offered Lady Greystone, but his gaze had turned paternal.

Anna curtseyed as best she could while still supporting the viscountess. “How do you do, sir?” Too late she realized her employer had not presented her to him. But Lady Greystone did not scold. Instead, she slowly regained her regal bearing.

“This is Miss Newfield, granddaughter of the late Sir Reginald Elgin.” Her voice cracked again. She cleared her throat. “As to whether she will be my protégée, I will decide once I learn more about him.”

“Ah. Then perhaps I can be of service.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a letter sealed with a red wax wafer stamped with a
G.
He glanced at Lady Greystone before handing the missive to Anna. “Miss Newfield, as you read this, please remember that we cannot choose our relatives, only our friends.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

H
er heart nearly bursting from her chest, Anna accepted the letter from Mr. Grenville. It fluttered in her hands and she realized she was trembling.

“Perhaps you should sit, Miss Newfield.” The gentleman attempted to take her arm, but Lady Greystone blocked his hand and glared at him.

“Perhaps
I
should read this.” She reached for the missive, although the address clearly stated
Miss Newfield.

Mr. Grenville took her hand and gracefully spun her away as if they were dancing. “Frances, I should like for you to come and sit with me.” He spoke as one talking to a child. “Miss Newfield is entitled to be the first one to read the news regarding her family.”

To Anna’s shock, Lady Greystone complied with his request, although she looked none too pleased.

Clustered in conversation near the marble hearth, everyone else seemed to be doing their best to ignore the scene that had just transpired. But the moment Mr. Grenville seated Lady Greystone on a chair in a corner, Major Grenville strode across the room.

“Are you going to read it?” His eyes sparked with interest, but he looked at her, not the paper.

Anna clutched it to her chest. “I would like to sit, please.”

“Yes, of course.” He escorted her to a settee, sat beside her and squeezed her free hand. “Have no fear, Miss Newfield. We are all your friends, no matter what is written here.”

As she snapped the seal and spread the paper across her lap, she longed to lean against his broad chest for comfort, but must settle for letting him read along with her. Taking a deep breath, she shook away her trepidation and held the page up so they both could see it.

Dear Miss Newfield:

May I congratulate you upon your imminent introduction into Society, a position to which you are most undeniably worthy? As you know, your maternal grandfather was Sir Reginald Elgin. I am most pleased to provide additional information that should settle all of your concerns about your pedigree. Sir Reginald was a baronet of some fortune who lived a quiet life in Cornwall and rarely came to London. Despite his lack of important connections, he secured the hand of Miss Hamilton, daughter of Lord Hamilton, a baron. Their only child was, of course, your mother. With that information in hand, we need go no further in regard to ensuring your place in Society, should you decide to accept Lady Greystone’s offer to sponsor your introduction. No one of note will consider you anything less than worthy to mingle with the
ton.

In addition, having been in London during your mother’s sole Season, I am privy to some information that may help you understand why you knew nothing of your connection to Sir Reginald and why your mother was not the beneficiary of his fortune. Lord Greystone has informed me that you know Miss Elgin married against her father’s wishes and was subsequently disowned. What you may not know is that Miss Elgin was extraordinarily popular and received many proposals, more than one from distinguished peers. Sir Reginald, a man whom most people found utterly disagreeable, ordered her to accept an equally disagreeable and entirely scandalous earl. She refused. He threatened her, to no avail. A lady of virtue and faith, she would have her gentleman vicar and no one else, for she loved him as Juliet loved Romeo. We who were young in those days (and now are old) found her choice wildly romantic. Few of us had the courage to do the same.

I pray this information does not distress you. It is never a good thing when a family is riven by strife. But I felt you should know that your mother was a virtuous lady admired by all.

Yours, James Grenville, Esq.

“Does this settle your mind?” The major’s rumbling voice beside her suggested he was experiencing emotion as deep as her own.

“Yes.” Anna refolded the letter and let it lie upon her lap. “I understand now why
Mamá
and
Papá
taught Peter and me to follow God’s leading, why
Papá
permitted Peter to become a soldier and never tried to find a husband for me. They trusted our decisions regarding such important matters.”

“I am pleased your father did not find you a husband.” His voice took on a hint of ardor and his eyes shone with—dare she think it?—admiration.

A pleasant shiver swept down her back. But how could he be so bold when his mother sat across the room? “Lady Greystone wishes to read this.” Anna started to rise, but he placed a hand upon her arm.

“We should not interrupt.” He tilted his head toward Lady Greystone and Mr. Grenville.

Even in the dim candlelight, Anna could see the two in deep conversation. How curious that all this time the lady had not wanted to see her husband’s brother, yet now she leaned close to him as one did when confiding in a dear friend.

“Well, Miss Newfield?” Lord Greystone wandered over, a beverage in his hand. “What news do you have for us?” His playful grin suggested he already knew the contents of the letter.

A good-natured spirit smote her, as well. “Why, nothing of import, my lord.”

“Nothing of import?” He chuckled. “Only information that will change your life considerably.” He glanced toward his mother and uncle, then gave the major a significant look. “No more need to hide your feelings, eh, Edmond?”

“Indeed not.” The major set his large, warm hand over Anna’s. “That is, if the lady agrees.”

“If?” Lord Greystone’s laughter filled the room. “Well, with that taken care of, I shall return to my guests.” He sauntered away.

After a nervous glance over her shoulder, Anna tried to tug her hand free from Major Grenville’s grasp, but he tightened his grip.

“No more need to hide our feelings, Miss Newfield.” His intense gaze sent a thrill spiraling through her. “Unless you do not return the strong sentiments I have for you.” He exhaled impatiently. “More directly, if you do not love me as I love you.” Doubt darted across his brow, an anguished expression so charming that Anna longed to smooth it away. Yet she dared not.

“I do love you.” As she spoke a weight seemed to float from her chest, a pressure she had not realized was there.

“Nonsense!” Lady Greystone approached the settee gripping her fan as if it were a weapon. “What do either of you know of love or duty or responsibility?” She scowled at the major. “Release her at once.”

He gripped Anna’s hand until she gently eased it away. His grimace twisted her heart.

“Really, Miss Newfield.” Lady Greystone’s angry expression turned conciliatory. “As my protégée, you can win a much bigger prize than a penniless third son. I will see you get a peer or nothing at all. That should compensate Society for your mother’s grievous error.”

“Frances!” Mr. Grenville grasped the lady’s elbow and turned her to face him. “Have you lost all sense?”

Major Grenville stood and touched his uncle’s shoulder. “Never mind, sir.” He brushed a finger across Anna’s cheek, then marched out of the room, not bothering to take his leave of the rest of the party.

“Now you have done it,” Mr. Grenville murmured to Lady Greystone. “Will you never be satisfied until everyone is as disappointed with their lot in life as you are?” He walked the length of the long room, said his goodbyes to the others and left.

Lord Greystone bowed across the chamber toward his mother, then followed the other two men, leaving the three visitors to stare in bewilderment at the viscountess.

Longing to pursue the major, Anna took a step toward the door.

Lady Greystone gripped her arm and hissed, “You will not embarrass me in front of my guests.” She straightened her posture and gave the others a tight smile. “Well, that was a prickly little scene, was it not?”

“Oh, Frances.” Mrs. Parton bustled over to her. “What a shame this could not be worked out.” She cast a kind glance toward Anna, then refocused on the viscountess. “We will make your excuses for you.”

“Nonsense.” Lady Greystone huffed out her favorite word. “Everything is fine.”

As if to confirm it, Crawford stepped into the room and announced more guests.

For the next three hours Anna was forced to submit to inspection by a small segment of London’s
haute ton,
some pleasant and others almost too haughty to bear. After the last guest finally left, Lady Greystone pronounced Anna a success.

“Tomorrow at Lady Drayton’s ball, you will be all the rage.” The viscountess looped her arm in Anna’s as they ascended the staircase. “You must permit me to plan your dance card to your best advantage.”

They reached the landing and Anna stepped away from her employer, now her unwanted benefactress. “But, madam, I do not know how to dance.”

* * *

“All of this is my fault.” Greystone stood in Edmond’s bedchamber with Uncle Grenville at his side. “I should have gone to Uncle’s office days ago instead of writing.” He eyed the gentleman. “I thought perhaps your secretary neglected to give you my letters.”

“No, no. He is quite dependable.” Uncle’s forehead furrowed. “I received all three letters and answered each time. If anyone is to blame, it is I. I should have grasped the tenor of your second and third missives and realized you had not received my replies. Still, you came today, and we addressed at least one of your concerns. Miss Newfield now knows who she is and can feel free to enjoy her debut.” His arched eyebrows invited Edmond to respond.

“Indeed, if that is what pleases her.” Edmond clenched his jaw, determined not to reveal what he suspected. He had not the slightest doubt but that Mother had intercepted the letters. If so, and if she’d had the audacity to read them, she no doubt knew his fondest aspirations contradicted her plans for him. Perhaps that explained her increasing rancor toward him these past days, her cruel remarks in front of Miss Newfield moments ago. Only God’s hand upon him had kept him from replying in kind to his parent. And he could not dismiss the irony of Mother’s twisted logic. Where only days ago Miss Newfield had not been good enough for him, now he was not good enough for her. So much for a man’s permanent stratum on the Great Chain of Being.

“What I wrote was actually quite harmless to
your
cause, Edmond.” Had Uncle read his mind? “I merely told Greystone I would visit at his convenience.” He glanced across the room. “If only I had been aware of how bitter poor Frances has become over the years, I could have intervened long ago. But when your father died she insisted I must not attempt to see any of you.” Regret shone in his eyes. “Because her father was still living and moved his residence to Greystone Lodge, I did not contest her guardianship of you boys. Now I deeply regret that.”

“Ah, well.” Greystone clapped him on the shoulder. “We have not turned out so badly, have we?”

“No. In fact—” Uncle shook his head. “Enough of that. Edmond, your brother has informed me of your interest in the law. Is this true?”

Edmond’s pulse began to race. “Yes, sir. I studied law at Oxford in hopes of becoming a barrister. Had I not wasted that summer seven years ago, perhaps—” Even back then he had seen what a good man his uncle was, which had reinforced his desire to follow in the same occupation. Unfortunately, at the time, he had not been able to control his youthful impulses long enough to pursue any serious path.

“Stubble it, Edmond.” Greystone nudged Edmond’s shoulder with his fist. “You are forgiven. You have paid your debts. And now you can forget all of that and look to the future. Is that not so, Uncle?”

“Hear, hear.” Uncle chuckled. “I would be proud to sponsor you at Lincoln’s Inn. Have your man pack your things and come with me now.”

Edmond eyed his brother, then his uncle, hardly believing what good fortune had landed in his lap. No, not fortune at all, but God’s grace. Yet he felt one constraint upon his soul.

“If it will not inconvenience you, Uncle, I have a matter to tend to before I accept your kind offer.”

“Of course. I understand. You must resign your commission.”

“Yes, but something else—”

“Miss Newfield?” Greystone grinned broadly. “Ah, no man could ask for a fairer prize.”

Edmond sent him a warning look. “She has already been spoken for, brother. But it does concern her.” He gestured toward the chairs beside his hearth. “If you are not too busy to sit for a while, I will be happy to explain it all.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“N
o, Miss Newfield, no.” The dance master, a thin, pale man of some fifty years, pounded his staff on the ballroom floor. “It is skip, step, turn, step, then up on the balls of your feet.” Mr. Turner sighed dramatically and turned to Lady Greystone, who sat in a wooden chair set against the wall. “Lady Greystone, one simply cannot teach a person to dance in one day, especially not someone lacking—” he looked at Anna up and down, stopping to stare at her slippers peeking out from beneath her gown “—natural grace.”

Anna desperately wanted to laugh at his remark, but she was far too exhausted and did not wish to embarrass him. Earlier, when she had giggled over her numerous slips and stumbles, the poor man had winced and glanced at Lady Greystone in fear. But even though Anna had never cared to learn how to dance, she was trying very hard to do so. How did Lady Greystone expect her to have any strength left for this evening, much less to dance on these aching feet? And were all ballroom floors this slippery?

“Still at it, Mother?” Lord Greystone sauntered into the room, his eyes on Anna.

“Oh, Greystone.” Lady Greystone echoed Mr. Turner’s dramatic sigh. “I fear it is useless. The
gel
simply cannot do it.” She took a turn staring at Anna up and down through her quizzing glass.

“Madam, may I sit?” Anna considered doing so even if the viscountess forbade her.

“By all means.” Lady Greystone waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Give up before you have mastered the skill.” She sniffed with indignation. “I had thought you were made of sterner stuff.”

Too weary to be hurt by the remark—or was there a veiled compliment in the lady’s words?—Anna brushed aside the curls that had loosened from her tightly bound hair and limped over to a chair beside her employer. As she sat, relief flowed up her legs and throughout her body.

“Mr. Turner, you may go.”

Lady Greystone waved the dance master away as one would a fly. The man bowed and walked out, but not before casting another disparaging look at Anna’s feet. She tucked them beneath her gown, still trying not to laugh. Everyone took this dancing business far too seriously.

Did every town house in London have a ballroom like Greystone Hall? This spacious room took up a third of the second floor and in the daytime was well-lit by tall windows on the south side. On the other three walls, elegant giltwood girandoles with their framed mirrors promised to magnify the light of the candles posted in the ram’s head candleholders during nighttime balls. The floor was polished to a flawless, slippery sheen, while equally polished wooden chairs lined the walls. A dais for the musicians sat at the east end. An exquisite room, to be sure, but one that stood empty for all but a few days each year.

“Greystone,” Lady Greystone said. “Do tell me your brother has gotten over his petulance and plans to attend the ball with me. Lady Drayton has promised to seek an advancement for him. I forbid him to miss this opportunity.”

She stood, which of course meant Anna was required to stand as well. Pain shot up her legs and back which, oddly, made her wish to laugh all the more. Or perhaps cry.
Lord, please help me endure this nonsense.

“Actually, Mother, Edmond has left.” Lord Greystone stared at Anna even as her heart plummeted, all good humor gone. Further, she could not discern any meaning in the viscount’s intense gaze.

“Left?” Lady Greystone’s posture stiffened. “What do you mean,
left?
”

The viscount effected a casual pose, leaning against the wall and studying his fingernails. “Last night during your little soiree, he packed his belongings and moved out.”

Anna dropped back into the chair, her head spinning. If Major Grenville had abandoned her at last, she could not blame him. How could anyone endure a mother like Lady Greystone? Guilt smote her conscience over such an uncharitable thought. The viscountess had taken her in despite her unusual arrival, and far more often than not, no bite ever followed her bark, at least where Anna was concerned. But the woman’s cruelty to her own son could not be explained away.

“The very idea!” Lady Greystone paced across the ballroom floor and back again. “Do you know where he went? Is he planning to return to America?” She tapped her fan against her opposite hand. “We may yet turn this to our advantage.” Her eyes fell on Anna. “You may go, Miss Newfield. This evening I shall make your excuses to the marchioness.”

“But, Mother—” Lord Greystone brushed invisible lint from his sleeve “—I was so looking forward to escorting both of you ladies to the ball.”

He managed a wink at Anna without Lady Greystone detecting it. That simple signal gave her a wisp of hope but was not sufficient to fully restore her optimism in regard to Major Grenville. If he was well and truly gone, she would have difficulty remaining in this house with the woman who had driven him away. Yet she had no other place to go.

“But she cannot dance.” Lady Greystone’s complaint was nonetheless spoken in the deferential tone she always used with her eldest son.

“Of course not.” Lord Greystone shrugged. “She is in half-mourning. How would it look to present her to Society wearing grey and black and have her cavorting about the marquess’s ballroom with every dandy who fancies her?”

“Ah!” Lady Greystone actually smiled. “You are truly brilliant.”

She snapped her eyes to Anna, who waited for the next blow with more curiosity than dread. What more could she do after driving away the gentleman Anna loved?

“Not every young lady requires a formal debut,” Lady Greystone said. “You will simply appear at my side this Season. If any gentlemen request an introduction, I shall choose carefully whom you may be presented to.” She gave Anna the same careless wave she had used to dismiss the dance master. “You must go have a lie-down. I shall summon you when it is time to dress for the ball.”

“Yes, madam.” Anna rose and slipped out, well aware of Lord Greystone’s sympathetic gaze. As much as she was grateful for his kindness, she longed to know where Major Grenville was and whether or not he would ever return.

* * *

“Oh, miss, you are lovely, truly lovely.” Esther stood behind Anna, who was seated at her vanity table, and continued to adjust her elaborate curls, securing each with an ebony pin. “Every eye will be on you.”

“Do not forget my mourning lace.” Anna reached for the black scarf lying on the vanity, but Esther seized it first.

“Must you wear it tonight?” In the mirror Anna could see the disappointment on the lady’s maid’s face as she pinned the headpiece over her well-wrought handiwork.

“Yes, Lady Greystone will want me to.” Anna took a strange sort of comfort in wearing her grey silk gown. Although she doubted any gentleman would request an introduction, the color alone was bland enough to discourage their interest. But then, what did she know or care of Society and its preferences? She could see in the mirror that her face reflected her mood, but it made no difference. Without Major Grenville at her side, this evening would be boring beyond words. How she longed for the days when she was simply Lady Greystone’s companion.

“Where is she?” The viscountess’s lilting voice rang outside of Anna’s door. She sailed into the bedchamber waving a lavender handkerchief that matched her elegant gown. Her hair was topped with a darker purple turban adorned with an albino peacock plume. To complement the ensemble, the scent of lavender wafted about her. “Oh, no, no, no.” She snatched the black lace from Anna’s hair, pulling several curls loose. Esther rushed to repair the damage. “We do not wish to proclaim you a spinster not seeking a husband, but a debutante…of sorts.” She placed one finger under Anna’s chin and narrowed her eyes as if studying a scientific specimen. “Although of course you are well past the proper age for a debut and have not been presented at court.” A dramatic sigh. “If only I’d had you in hand years ago.” A dismissive huff. “No matter. I shall launch you as if you were the daughter I never had.” Only the tiniest hint of sorrow shaded her words, but the tone revealed much.

At last Anna comprehended the lady’s eagerness for this evening, her eagerness to sponsor Anna’s debut at all. Last night James Grenville spoke of her disappointments. Perhaps she had just revealed one of them. The viscountess often boasted about giving her husband three sons to ensure his title’s continuation. She once said that a daughter was an expensive luxury. Yet this pretty suite bespoke a longing for a daughter to nurture. Now Anna understood. God had sent her to minister to this unhappy woman, and she prayed she would discharge her duty well. She turned to Lady Greystone with a warm smile.

“Madam, I am honored beyond words by your kindness.” She could not check the emotional pitch of her voice or her sudden tears.

Lady Greystone blinked and tilted her head in confusion. “Yes. Well.” She swallowed hard. “Let us be off.” She spun away, summoning Anna with a brisk wave over her shoulder.

* * *

The Marquess of Drayton’s house stood apart from other St. James Square residences on a broad plot of land only a half mile from Greystone Hall. As the carriage rolled up the drive, Anna peered through the conveyance’s window at the estate’s impressive grounds. Immaculately kept emerald-green lawns with exquisite flower gardens stretched beyond the half circle drive leading to the mansion’s front portico. Lord Greystone’s landau, drawn by four matching black horses, provided comfortable seating for four people, but only three alighted from the elegant carriage.

Stepping from the conveyance, Anna counseled herself that Major Grenville may have confessed his love for her, but he had made no promises. After living with this family for almost seven months, she understood his need to support himself, so of course he was in no position to take a wife. Having resigned herself to spinsterhood long ago, she would suffer no loss by waiting for him other than loneliness for his company. In the interim before he returned—for she knew he would—two things lifted her spirits when they began to flag. Lord Greystone showed her unfailing, brotherly kindness. More important, the Lord reminded her of the one sure truth in her life: she was a servant of God sent to minister to Lady Greystone. She would do everything possible to discharge that duty well.

Green-liveried footmen and black-uniformed maids buzzed about the portico and massive entrance to the house, making certain every guest received proper attention. Inside, wraps and cloaks were surrendered, slippers brushed, coiffures straightened, so each visitor could make an entrance befitting his or her station in life. Lord Greystone offered his arm to his mother and they ascended the wide front staircase, with Anna following close behind. She had never seen such a crush of people and did not wish to get lost.

At the door of the ballroom the butler bowed to them, took the viscount’s calling card and announced in clarion tones, “Lord Greystone. Lady Greystone. Miss Newfield.”

Anna stopped the laugh trying to escape her. This was just a fancy party, and yet everyone made it into such a drama.

The fragrances of countless perfumes mingled in the air, nearly choking Anna. She also detected the aromas of roast beef and other culinary delights being prepared for the midnight supper. The spring daylight had faded into a red-and-purple sunset which appeared like a watercolor painting through the massive west windows. Hundreds of candles blazed in crystal chandeliers, with several servants carefully attending to the dripping wax lest it fall upon the guests.

As she followed her benefactors a merry tune met her ears, and she located the source, musicians on a dais in the far corner. In the center of the room, which was a much larger ballroom than Lord Greystone’s, couples had lined up for the first dance. While she had no hope, or desire, to improve her dancing skills, she would watch them and try to discover how to do it.

“I will leave you ladies here in good company.” Lord Greystone gestured toward a pleasant corner set off by a row of large potted plants and furnished with upholstered chairs, wherein sat several older ladies. The viscount bowed and turned to leave.

“Greystone.” Lady Greystone set a hand on his arm.

“Yes, madam?” His patient responses to his mother never ceased to amaze Anna.

“Do be careful whom you speak or dance with, especially—”

His deep chuckle sounded much like Major Grenville’s. “Of course, Mother.” He brushed a kiss across her powdered cheek, then sauntered away, clearly in no hurry to speak or dance with anyone.

“Do sit down, Frances,” Mrs. Parton called merrily from her chair. “You are blocking my view.”

“And good evening to you, too, Julia.” Lady Greystone found a chair and motioned Anna to one beside it, forming a half circle with Mrs. Parton. “Is anyone interesting here tonight?”

“Why, yes. And she is seated right next to you.” Mrs. Parton gave Anna a warm smile. “Good evening, Miss Newfield.”

“Good evening—”

“Oh, come, now, Julia.” Lady Greystone sniffed. “Someone of rank, of influence. Beyond Lord and Lady Drayton, of course.”

Anna wanted to laugh. Oh, how she wanted to laugh. One moment she was about to make her debut. The next she had no significance at all. Goodness, how this lady did shift her opinions to suit the moment.

Mrs. Parton leaned toward Lady Greystone. “I have heard that Prinny may put in an appearance and may even bring the French king. They are said to be eager to begin celebrating Louis’s upcoming coronation.”