Chapter 7

7

DELIGHT, DANGER AND DESIRE

Leonora, Charlotte and Nanny P settled themselves into the comfortable interior of the Rokeby coach. Leonora was so exhausted with all the preparatory work and the tide of emotion that she did not even have the energy to read. She gazed out of the window at the landscape of bare swooping downland and valleys with sparse copses of leafless trees, everywhere cold and bleak with January frost.

Charlotte was onto the last volume of Belinda but even she was distracted by the thought of London. Only Nanny P seemed untroubled. Charlotte looked across at where she sat, a mound of what looked like white fine lace in her lap. ‘Nanny P, what are you knitting?'

Mrs Priddy was in the middle of counting stitches and without looking up said, ‘A shawl for a baby.'

‘It's very intricate. Which baby is it for?'

Peg Priddy looked up with a vague smile. ‘Oh, no baby in particular but by the time I finish knitting one of my shawls, there's always a newborn infant in need of it.'

A mischievous smile lit up Charlotte's face as she said, ‘Well, I think Mr Fopling and Miss Vazey will be needing that shawl in a year or so.'

‘Lottie!' Leonora was intrigued by what had prompted this comment, remembering her unexpected conversation with Miss Vazey in the lane. ‘What makes you think that, may I ask?'

‘Well, I saw Mr Fopling and Little Grace disappearing into the Vazey cottage, then heard him later asking the Reverend about when the living at Wetherleigh becomes vacant. They're both so unworldly, I think they'll suit each other well.'

Mrs Priddy ignored this diversion and her kindly blue eyes rested on Charlotte's face. ‘In fact, the first I knitted was to this pattern. I had no idea who it would be for and then, as I was crocheting the lace border, you, Miss Blythe, arrived on the Vicarage doorstep. It was as if an angel had brought you to where you were needed most. And my shawl was ready to welcome you.'

Charlotte's face was suddenly close to tears. ‘Mama Mildmay and the Reverend could not have been kinder to me. But to know at least who my father was has given me a sense of belonging.' She blew her nose then turned to Mrs Priddy. ‘You remember my father when he was young. What was he like?'

‘Well Master Charles and his younger brother were as close as brothers could be, but oh, so different. Master Charles, full of larks but steady and sensible underneath, then Master Alistair, wild and adventurous. He would always climb a tree higher than anyone and then have to be rescued by his elder brother. If anyone was going to get into trouble, I'd always have bet my money on it being Master Alistair.' Mrs Priddy put down her knitting, a sign that she was about to say something serious. ‘Master Charles always protected little Alistair from their cruel father, but he could not save their mother. Lady Venetia asked for my advice more than once about her sons' behaviour and then died when they were barely grown. From that point on, the Abbey really lacked a woman's sensibility.' She leant across and took Charlotte's hand. ‘Perhaps that's why your father looked to other women for love?' Charlotte squeezed Nanny P's hand in thanks, leant back on the cushions and closed her eyes.

The frozen landscape began to grow greener and less frost-bitten as they left the rural downland and fields for scattered villages and market gardens that proliferated closer to the city. Excitement for the adventure ahead began to replace anxious anticipation. They changed horses at The King's Head at Maidenhead where the day before, Lord Rokeby had had his grooms deliver the next team of fresh horses to make their onward journey swifter and more comfortable.

By the time the sun was low in the sky, they had left the villages of Kensington and Knightsbridge behind with their pretty cottages and occasional grand brick manor houses. Leonora peered out of the window and saw the beginning of the terraces of symmetrical houses built in pale stone. The sun glinted off their tall windows and she was struck by the orderly beauty of these recently constructed streets and squares with trees and gardens. Charlotte let out a cry as they glimpsed Hyde Park. ‘Oh look, countryside of a kind!'

Leonora replied, ‘The Countess of Bucklebury's house is at the Grosvenor Square end of Brook Street, so we'll be in easy walking distance of somewhere to stroll and ride.' The carriage came to a halt outside a mansion, six windows across with a grand portico and a shiny blue door.

Charlotte grasped Leonora's hand. ‘Oh, I'm afraid. What if she doesn't approve of me? Thinks I'm just a country dowd, and ill-begotten too.' Her face was drawn with anxiety.

‘Come on, Lottie. You're the Countess's only great-grandchild and you're beautiful and accomplished and kind. She's lucky to have someone like you in her family and I'm sure that's what she'll think. The new Earl has accepted you wholeheartedly and even given you his mother's necklace.'

‘And he has settled a large sum of money on you too,' Mrs Priddy added as she put away her knitting. ‘You are an heiress now, young woman, and need to start behaving as one! No more wilting violet but a proud rose. Come now, my dear.'

The Rokeby coachman had opened the door and handed Mrs Priddy down. Leonora and Charlotte followed. The door of Bucklebury House swung open and a footman in full livery of gold braid and green descended to escort them up the steps. Leonora exchanged a look with Charlotte and they found each other's gloved hands to cling together for a moment.

The hallway of Bucklebury House was as impressive as its fa?ade. Spacious, with a wide stone staircase rising to the left in a sinuous curve, it was floored in polished limestone and had the faded grandeur of the previous century. The cerulean blue of the silk-lined walls had been bleached by age to a misty aquamarine on which large ancestral portraits hung. Their pale faces and dark eyes seemed to gaze accusingly from the canvas, watching Leonora with unblinking stares. Some wore ruffs as big as wheels and others, towering wigs with circles of rouge on their cheeks. The Bucklebury servants too were silent and austere, so different from the easy-going informality of the countryfolk who worked at the Manor.

Leonora, Charlotte and Mrs Priddy were divested of their cloaks, bonnets and pelisses and led up the grand staircase, past more watching ancestors, some shining in armour or poised in mid-charge on the back of a rearing warhorse. Cobwebs hung from the chandelier and dust motes danced in the cool light from the tall north window on the landing. The house was silent apart from the ticking of a clock somewhere. They reached the first floor and the footman knocked on a pair of gilded double doors.

‘Come!' was the call from within.

‘My lady, Miss Blythe, Miss Appleby and Mrs Priddy to see you.' He opened both the doors and they walked in. The drawing room was even more impressive than the hallway. For a moment Leonora could not see where the voice had come from as her eye was overwhelmed with the opulence of her surroundings. The walls painted ochre with gilded mouldings emitted their own glow and the jostle of sofas and chairs were upholstered in faded tapestries of purples and pinks. A square piano-forte sat in the window and Leonora longed to investigate it.

‘Come in, come in. And close the doors. It's cold enough as it is.' A querulous voice arose from the sofa by the nearest of two blazing fires. There, sitting in splendour, was the most extraordinary person Leonora had ever seen. Frail and very old, the Countess of Bucklebury sat among her blue brocade skirts with a white lace fichu foaming at her neck; she, like her house, favoured the last century.

The women approached with deference and one by one took the hand that was proffered. She looked imperious, the remnants of her beauty displayed in the fine cheekbones and large dark eyes. Her lips and cheeks were rouged, and her hair covered by an elaborate lace and ribbon cap tied under the chin. The surroundings and her manner were so regal that Leonora found herself bobbing a quick curtsey, followed by Charlotte, her face suffused by a blush.

‘Now, there's no need for that!' the Countess said in a surprisingly strong and brusque voice. ‘I presume you are Charlotte?' She had hold of Charlotte's hand and examined her with beady eyes that appeared almost black, and missing nothing. ‘You appear charming enough, my dear. Luckily the country maid look is all the rage this year, in London, if not in Paris.' She pulled her closer. ‘But beware of confusing outer appearance with character. I disdain any gal who thinks it's charming to play the milksop in person.'

Leonora saw Charlotte's shoulders slump. This was damning with faint praise, she thought, and felt a stab of protective indignation on the younger woman's behalf. ‘Thank you, Lady Bucklebury, I will strive to overcome any timidity.' Charlotte bowed her head.

‘Tush! You may call me Grandmama. I know I'm your great-grandmama but that sounds so ageing.' She peered closer at the young woman's face and softened her manner. ‘In fact, you have the look of my daughter, Venetia, about you. You are a beauty, but I hope your character will have more firmness than hers.'

The dark eyes then moved to Leonora. ‘You, Miss Appleby, are here as a companion and friend to Charlotte?' When Leonora nodded, she continued in her terse way, ‘Of course, every kind of scapegrace and fortune hunter will be attracted to my granddaughter now Alistair has decided to bestow such a handsome dowry upon her.' She patted Leonora's hand. ‘I'm assured by Lord Rokeby that you have all the sterling qualities to protect her reputation and fortune.'

Leonora smiled and said, ‘I will do my best, Lady Bucklebury. I have known Charlotte all her life and she is as precious as a sister to me.'

The Countess looked impatient. ‘That is admirable from a sentimental point of view, my dear, but in my experience, we are all selfish beings and I would hope that you will also find yourself a husband while you are under my protection.' One bony finger tapped Leonora's cheek. ‘You're handsome enough, Miss Appleby, to attract a fortune adequate to live a good life.' When Leonora showed doubt, her colour rising, the old lady became tetchy. ‘Save me girlish chatter about love,' she scoffed. ‘We all know an unmarried woman has a narrow, circumscribed existence, unless she is very rich or of highest birth when she can make her own life and take her pleasure where she will.' Leonora felt thoroughly put in her place and wondered what it was going to be like living under this old termagant's wing for the duration of the Season.

Lady Bucklebury then turned her attention to Mrs Priddy and her face cracked into a rare smile revealing blackened teeth. ‘Mrs P, I remember you from when you used to help my poor Venetia with those wicked sons of hers! I'm pleased to make your acquaintance again.' She patted the satin beside her, suggesting she join her on the sofa. ‘I know that these girls will be in safe hands with you around.' She even managed a laugh. She gestured to Leonora and Charlotte to sit as her footman brought in a tray of tea and macaroons.

‘It is indeed good to see you again, m'lady, and in such health.' Mrs Priddy poured out the tea. Lady Bucklebury settled back against the cushions, her face growing softer in the firelight. ‘I must say this will prove to be diverting. At my age there is not much to entertain me apart from my memories. But they are rich pickings. At your age I was wild indeed!' Her eyes sparkled at her recall of youthful exploits. ‘It was a much more libertine age. La! How prosy and particular Society has become! I was lucky enough to attract the attention of a very rich marquis and I married him. I had fallen in love with his house!' She cackled with laughter. ‘Putting up with the blunderhead was not too onerous if I could live in this house and his very nice estate in Worcestershire.'

‘By the time I met you, Lady Bucklebury, the Marquis had died in a hunting accident, I think?' Nanny P enquired as she handed round the plate of macaroons.

‘Oh yes! Fate intervened! Bucklebury gave me my child – although Venetia was always a little below par – then was propelled from his saddle taking a five-bar gate!' She chuckled with amusement, then noticed Leonora's and Charlotte's shocked faces. ‘Oh don't be ninnies, this is the reality of life. The heart just complicates things. If I had loved my lord then I would have wailed my life was over. All that's required for success is a certain charm, some luck, and a lot of land.' Her voice had an edge of triumph. ‘Aged thirty, I was left with half Bucklebury's fortune and the freedom to do as I pleased.'

Leonora regained her equilibrium by concentrating on a favourite melody in her mind as her attention turned to the piano-forte. Curiosity overcame her shyness. ‘Lady Bucklebury, is your piano-forte a Broadwood or a Clementi?'

The dark eyes fixed on her face. ‘It is a Clementi. Do you or Charlotte play?'

‘We both do. I've been teaching Charlotte and she's a very proficient musician. She has a pleasing singing voice too.'

Lady Bucklebury leant forward and said, ‘I don't think I can host a party here for you as it's too disruptive, but I'm able to obtain vouchers from Almack's and I'm sure there will be many parties and balls in other establishments that you will be invited to.' She settled back in her seat. ‘And of course I am happy for your friends to come to visit you here as long as Mrs Priddy chaperones you. I have strict instructions from the Earl.'

Charlotte surprised everyone, including herself, by saying, ‘Lord Rokeby has been very kind to me.'

‘I'm consoled to hear that, my dear. I can only regret that if one of the Rokeby brothers had to be sacrificed in defence of the country, it should be your father and not Alistair who was killed.'

There was a communal gasp and Leonora felt emotion surge up into her chest and without thinking, she erupted, ‘Lady Bucklebury! I think that is an unconscionable thing to say!'

The Countess was quite unruffled. ‘How so, my dear? I only speak the truth. Both of his parents would have said the same. Charles was everything that a nobleman should be, especially as the head of such an eminent family. Alistair was always recalcitrant, and look at him now! Returned half blind, lame, scarred, so damaged from war not even his dog can consider him a hero now.'

‘Well, both Achille and I think him so,' Leonora muttered. It seemed only Charlotte heard as Lady Bucklebury clapped her hands and said, ‘I think we should eat. I'll meet you in the dining room in an hour. My maid will show you to your rooms.' She got to her feet with a grimace of pain and accepting Mrs Priddy's arm, walked with the aid of a cane to the door. As she left them to go and dress for dinner she said, ‘I am a selfish old woman who has lived too long alone. Forgive any lapse of social grace.' Her sly smile belied the contrition of her words.

The meal was a subdued affair. Both Leonora and Charlotte were still reeling from the broadsides as to their looks and general prospects. They felt their new clothes, with which they had been so delighted, probably erred on the side of ‘milksop'. The food itself was meagre, the main dish being potatoes and a rabbit stew, and it became obvious that as Lady Bucklebury barely ate herself, she was unconcerned with providing a lavish table for her guests, expecting them to share her abstemious habits. Mrs Priddy kept the conversation alive by enquiring about elderly acquaintances, but everyone soon beat an early retreat.

Their bedchambers and dressing rooms were on the second floor, above the drawing room, and they congregated in Leonora's. When the door was closed, she threw herself on the bed. ‘Well! I've never known such an unmannerly woman!'

‘Now, now, Nora dear, it won't do to get uppity. She's from a different age, and wealth has removed her from the usual niceties of manner.'

‘Nanny P, if you suggest Lady B's sour temper is just due to lack of food or sleep, I shall scream!' Leonora sprang off the bed and they all laughed.

‘I'm afraid if I show mere kindly manners and politeness, the Countess will dismiss me as a milksop, which she considers worse than a jezebel or cockish wench!' Charlotte's fair skin had flared with emotion.

‘Now Miss Charlotte, you are not to use such vulgar terms.' Mrs Priddy wagged her finger. ‘It's just about acceptable to talk in such an informal way when you're in the country but not here. And not under Lady Bucklebury's roof!'

‘At least I won't be accused of being a milksop ! I was so pleased to belong to this family but now I see such a Lady Virago at its head, I'm not so sure.'

‘We're all tired. Let's to bed and everything will seem better in the morning.' Peg Priddy straightened her skirts and kissed Leonora and Charlotte on the cheek.

Leonora pulled her close. ‘I'm so glad you're with us, Nanny P. You put everything in its place. Of course things will look better tomorrow. For a start I want to explore Hyde Park.'

‘I'll come with you!' Charlotte said, her face brighter and her sense of adventure restored.

‘The Park is safe enough if you two stay together. Beware there are pickpockets and other ruffians, and young men exercise their horses first thing, so perhaps go out a little later.' Nanny P did not see the lively look that passed between the two young women. ‘Good night, everyone.'

Leonora woke early after a deep untroubled sleep. She was still on country time and wondered what a suitable hour was to surface for breakfast. As she lay in a deep feather mattress, her gaze travelled around the palatial bedroom, the details just visible now the pale light was beginning to seep through the curtains. Her four-poster bed was hung with silk curtains frayed into ribbons at the edges but once beautiful. Pale yellow and embroidered with flowers and bees, they looked too fragile to pull closed and she feared she'd be enveloped in a cloud of dust if she did. The room itself was panelled and painted a pearl grey to which time only added an attractive smoky patina. It was restful to lie there warm and safe, and Leonora's mind returned to her beloved Hasterleigh and the Earl.

Her jealousy of Claudette Dupré and fears about her importance in Lord Rokeby's life had given way to a fierce protectiveness after Lady Bucklebury's harsh dismissal of him the day before. She knew Society and the Countess herself would consider it ludicrous if they knew her secret longing, a longing she barely managed to acknowledge to herself. But she held close to her heart what Lord Rokeby had said, so surprising she was not certain she had heard it right. You alone have made me want to live . Had she made that up in a reverie of wishful thinking? Surely such words could not be true?

Leonora refused to enter the maze of speculation and instead, reminded herself she was here on Charlotte's adventure; her young friend was to be given a chance of marriage that had been denied to herself with the death in Spain of her beloved Captain Worth. This was a noble cause and she and Nanny P would do their utmost to help her attain it. There was a soft tap at the door and a young maid entered with a jug of steaming water which she carried through to the dressing room and placed beside a large, chipped Delft bowl on the marble-topped table. ‘Good morning, Miss Appleby. I'm Amy.'

Leonora knew it was probably time to struggle out of bed. Gazing towards the morning light suffused through the grimy glass of the window, she thought how entering London Society was akin to entering enemy territory, where pitfalls and Society queens like Livia Dearlove lay in wait to undermine women like her, neither rich, high-bred nor beautiful. But there was entertainment and opportunity too. She knew she and Charlotte had to be prepared for anything.

Energised by the thought, Leonora was impatient to see more of the city, and explore the great park. She dressed hurriedly in her new walking dress of dark green twill with a matching pelisse, fastened becomingly with silver toggles. She picked up a lilac-trimmed bonnet to match her calfskin boots and knocked on Charlotte's door.

Charlotte was dressed already, looking pretty in her walking gown of primrose yellow cambric lawn. ‘Let's have a hasty breakfast.' Leonora led the way downstairs, drawn by the smell of coffee.

After toast and honey and a cup of coffee, Charlotte looked across at Leonora and with a mischievous smile said, ‘Do you think this is too early to set out, seeing Nanny P has warned us about the risks of meeting young men exercising their steeds?'

They both laughed and Leonora stood up. ‘I'm sure we'll be safe from any untoward attention. Come on, Lottie.'

The quickest route to Grosvenor Gate was through Grosvenor Square and both young women scrutinised with awe this grandest of structures. Houses of pale stone stood in four proud ranks around the large oval sweep of grass and trees in the centre. The largest houses had pilasters rising from the first floor to the attics and Leonora found herself thinking about the lives behind those glinting tall windows. She wondered which was the Rokeby mansion. Everywhere was bustle and activity as carts delivered vegetables and meat, the carters shouting their wares and the delivery boys scampering up and down the front steps leading to the basements of the towering houses above.

The Grosvenor Gate entrance into the Park was thronged with early horsemen leaving while carriages and curricles, wishing to take the crisp morning air, swept in with a flourish. It was all so new and exciting that Charlotte hung on tight to Leonora's arm. The frosty grass was punctuated by gravelled avenues and copses of bare trees as far as the eye could see. The distant glint of water drew them towards the Serpentine and they walked down the well-trodden track, careful to avoid the centre where horses' hooves had churned the earth to mud.

The low sun made everything sparkle and Leonora and Charlotte felt their cheeks tingling in the chill air. Riders mounted on flashy stallions eyed the young women appreciatively as they passed; some were more forward, leaning out of their saddles to doff their hats and ogle. Leonora drew Charlotte close and said, ‘When a man does that to you, just turn your head away smartly to give him "the cut". Now practise it with the next one.' They laughed and quickened their pace.

They approached the Serpentine's edge where noisy children and dogs gambolled amongst the reeds when Leonora's eye was caught by an enormous black horse emerging from the trees. The rider, sitting tall astride his magnificent steed, appeared to be a giant. She nudged Charlotte who recognised him and cried out, ‘It's Mr Lockwood!' Relief at meeting someone so familiar in this unfamiliar place flooded them both. They waved.

He trotted up and reined in his horse, seeming to loom over them as they gazed up into his smiling face. He had swept his hat off his head, and his hair was unruly.

‘Oh, we're so glad to see you!' Charlotte was the first to speak, her voice warm with feeling.

George Lockwood laughed as he dismounted. ‘Why? Are you tired of London already?'

‘No! We've only just arrived but it's good to see a friendly face, Mr Lockwood.' Leonora put out her hand.

‘Well, I am inordinately pleased to see you, Miss Blythe, Miss Appleby.' He bowed. ‘You are happy reminders of my favourite place. And unlike you, I am definitely tired of London!'

His reins were looped over his arm as he allowed his horse to nuzzle his ear. ‘This fine beast is Titan. I shall bring him with me to Hasterleigh after the Season is over. I think he longs for those rolling acres almost as much as I do.' In a companionable group, they walked round the Serpentine. ‘Tell me then of your first impressions.'

Charlotte spoke first. ‘We're staying with my dragonish great-grandmama in her ancient lair in Brook Street and she is full of opinions.'

‘Not least that we look like country dowds!' Leonora's eyes flashed. ‘Even with our newly bought fashions!'

Mr Lockwood looked down at them. ‘If that's the case, I'm all for country dowds. To my eye, you both look entirely charming, no one better.'

Charlotte's indignation was still raw. ‘And she said that my father was more worthy to survive at Corunna and it should have been Lord Rokeby to be killed! Leonora scolded her for saying such a thing.' Leonora was sorry that Charlotte had brought this up. It was still so shocking to her she did not wish to give it any more thought.

George Lockwood looked across at Leonora's pained face and said in an equable way, ‘Any death in war is a tragedy. Those of us who have not been through that particular horror have little right to opine on it, I would think.'

Leonora was grateful to him for his measured reply, and they all walked on in companionable silence, Titan clip-clopping peaceably beside them. George Lockwood stopped. ‘It's just occurred to me. My stepfather, Beau Beacham, holds a monthly party with dancing and cards during the Season and his first is at the end of the month. I usually escape to my club but if you'll attend, it becomes a much more attractive proposition.'

Charlotte's bright face broke into the widest smile. ‘Oh good! We have no invitations yet. Grandmama will be pleased.'

George Lockwood let out a snort of laughter. ‘It depends how much of a stickler she is. The Beau runs with a raffish crowd; not everyone he invites would delight a matron seeking a match for a beloved relation.'

Charlotte replied, ‘I don't think Lady Bucklebury would deem me a "beloved relation" by any measure.'

Leonora's responsibility for Charlotte settled more heavily on her shoulders. ‘Will Lord Dearlove be there?' She hoped to put her mind at ease with the presence of some respectable attendees.

‘My stepfather is nothing if not up to all the tricks. He attaches himself to whomsoever might do him good by reputation or deed. Yes, Rufus Dearlove is likely to be there. Beau's cellar is legendary.'

‘And Captain Ormonde?'

‘That dapper dog seems to turn up wherever there's free champagne and pretty women. My stepfather rates him highly for his charm. I think he'd prefer him for a son; I'm afraid I'm an eternal disappointment to him.' They had reached Grosvenor Gate and the Park was filling up with horses and carriages. ‘Would you like me to escort you back to Brook Street?'

‘It's such a short walk from here, I think we'll manage. Thank you, Mr Lockwood.'

Leonora turned towards Grosvenor Square, but Charlotte seemed reluctant to leave his side and looked up eagerly into his face as she said, ‘It has been so good to see you again, Mr Lockwood. You will be at Mr Beacham's ball, won't you?'

His blue eyes met hers, limpid and dark brown, in striking contrast with her fair skin and hair. He paused and did not answer or look away, as if for that moment mesmerised. Charlotte touched his arm and with an imperceptible shake of his head, he responded, ‘I will indeed. I shall look forward to seeing you both then. The Beau lives in Davies Street, with an unmistakeable silver front door.' Doffing his hat, he mounted Titan and trotted off, a dark, imperious silhouette against the sun.

Leonora had watched this exchange and was intrigued. Was that the point when George Lockwood really saw Charlotte for who she was? She hugged herself, not just due to the cold. They walked back as briskly as they could, suddenly longing for some warming drink and a pastry. As they entered the Bucklebury mansion, they were delighted to find that breakfast was still in progress, with Mrs Priddy sitting with a cup of coffee talking in a desultory way to the Countess. The lady appeared much less imperious in her undress, wearing just a man's navy-blue silk banyan, tied at the front, with her nightcap still on her head.

Tossing off her bonnet and pelisse, Charlotte rushed into the breakfast room. ‘We have our first invitation!'

Mrs Priddy put down her cup. ‘Good morning, Miss Charlotte; Nora my dear.' Her voice was as close as it ever came to admonishment.

Charlotte blushed. ‘Oh apologies, Grandmama and Nanny P. Good morning, I hope you both slept well?'

‘Tolerably, my dear.' Lady Bucklebury indicated the coffee pot. ‘Do help yourself to more breakfast. We won't eat again until this evening.'

Leonora kissed Nanny P on the cheek and wished Lady Bucklebury a good morning. As she took a chair she said, ‘Hyde Park is full of interest and activity.'

‘So I surmise.' Lady Bucklebury's voice was dry. ‘So who did you meet and where is this party to be held?'

Charlotte reached for a roll and said, ‘We met Mr Lockwood who is the heir to Miss Appleby's father's estate at Hasterleigh. His stepfather Beau Beacham has a monthly rout, the first one is at the end of the month. And we're invited!'

The Countess's mouth turned down. ‘Well, my dear, this is only partially good news. Beacham's gatherings are half beau monde and half disreputables. I can only countenance your going if you are closely accompanied by Mrs Priddy. Miss Appleby is chaperone enough in safe environments, but Beau Beacham's world is full of libertines and reprobates and you need a more experienced chaperone.'

Both young women glanced at Nanny P whose face was inscrutable. The Countess continued. ‘Mrs Priddy suggested I may have been a bit harsh yesterday in my assessment of your prospects. I have lived so long and seen so many innocent bright-faced girls brought to disappointment, in some cases ruin, that I wished to disabuse you of any romantic fancies you might have.'

‘We are grateful, Lady Bucklebury, for your care towards us and realise we have much to learn.' Leonora noticed Nanny P nodding as she spoke. She poured a cup of coffee for herself and Charlotte as Lady Bucklebury's brilliant eyes settled on her great-granddaughter's face.

‘My goodness, your cheeks are so rosy you look quite bucolic. I think a touch of lilac powder will give you a more flattering pallor. I'll get Amy to pass on some of mine.'

Leonora and Charlotte caught each other's eyes, widened with surprise. Their cheeks were pink from the cold but they were used to looking ‘healthy', as Nanny P called it. It seemed the Countess was not done yet with her improvements and advice. ‘When a man is introduced to you, it is not advised that you meet his eyes directly. Men are like dogs; it's challenging to have a new acquaintance stare into their faces. Turn your head slightly and look askance, through your eyelashes. This is a more becoming address for a young woman.'

Leonora and Charlotte tried hard to suppress a giggle. Leonora turned to Nanny P, her head drooping slightly as she glanced at her through her eyelashes. Mrs Priddy gave her a reproving frown.

The Countess folded her hands as she continued, ‘Now finally, a more delicate matter.'

Leonora froze. What embarrassment had they committed now? Lady Bucklebury sipped her coffee, then said, ‘Charlotte, your undergarments could be improved. I wish you to pay a visit to Madame Maurice in Bond Street. I have an account there and she stocks the best stays from Paris. So much more flattering, my dear. The English stays flatten the breasts while the French know how to present them higher and better formed. It's the difference between…'

‘Between a mountain and a molehill?' Leonora said sweetly.

Charlotte gasped at her temerity but Lady Bucklebury gave an unexpected laugh. ‘Exactly, pert miss! But this is a serious matter!' Her words were brusque but her face wrinkled with amusement. ‘I have promised my grandson I will find a suitable husband for you, and we need every weapon we can muster.'

‘This sounds like war, Grandmama,' Charlotte said.

‘Well war it is. And all good wars need discipline and strategy.'

Leonora and Charlotte went up to their bedchambers to collect their reading books and Mrs Priddy followed them to Leonora's room where the young women threw themselves laughing onto the bed. Leonora put out a hand for her old nanny. ‘Lady Bucklebury is so exhausting ! All these things we have to remember to do! Powder our cheeks, place our bosoms on a plate, flutter our eyelashes and never look a man straight in the eye in case he becomes a rabid dog!'

‘My dears, she means well. Don't forget she's very old and her heyday was in a different century.'

‘But she makes us feel there's no hope for us!' Charlotte climbed off the bed, flopped onto the sofa and sighed.

‘No, Charlotte, not at all. You and Nora are charming as you are and that's all you can be. Now I suggest we make your great-grandmother happy by buying these fancy French stays in Bond Street this afternoon. Then we'll walk on to the circulating library at number forty-five to borrow some new reading matter.'

They all set out in the afternoon, warmly dressed and bonneted, with Mrs Priddy wearing a wool tippet over her shoulders for added warmth. The journey was entertaining for two young women just up from the country as it involved walking almost the full length of the New and Old Bond Streets as far as Piccadilly. As this was one of the main areas for shopping and promenading, Leonora and Charlotte gazed wide-eyed from one sight to the next.

The shops alone were like jewel boxes, with their most attractive and brightly coloured goods brilliant in the windows. Displays of parasols, gloves, bonnets and gowns of every fabric and hue added their rainbow charm to the view. They walked past the mantua makers, jewellers and cake shops. The narrow pavements were thronged with young women out shopping with their mamas and chaperones, and groups of finely dressed dandies come to promenade and ogle the ladies.

Leonora pointed out a group of more sombrely dressed men coming and going from an establishment at no. 14. ‘Nanny P, is that a gentlemen's club?'

‘It is of a specialist kind, I suppose. Although the main gentlemen's clubs are in St James's. This is Jackson's famous Boxing Academy where the nobility spar with the heroes of the ring. I heard that Lord Rokeby and his brother were habitués on the few occasions they were home from the war.'

Leonora noticed a handsome man at the centre of a group of swaggering laughing swells. With a jolt she recognised Captain Ormonde but did not want to attract his attention. She turned away, knowing the brim of her bonnet would obscure her face, even should he have remembered her.

They walked on, attracting some attention from the strutting beaus with their canes and quizzing glasses. Men on horseback and smart curricles thronged the street, splashing mud on the pedestrians' shoes, and young women hurried past, their maids laden with various bandboxes.

‘Look, there's Madame Maurice's.' Leonora saw the bow window with a yellow and lilac evening robe and an array of lace caps displayed like a bouquet of flowers. They entered, to be met by Madame Maurice herself, a tall, austere woman with clever, calculating eyes. Ushered into a discreet room towards the back of the shop, Madame measured Charlotte and her assistant brought out a selection of three French stays. These were so elegant in their soft seamed cotton and lace that Leonora thought it a pity they would be hidden from general view.

‘Oh! I feel so pretty!' Charlotte invited Leonora behind the screen to see. ‘Won't you try one for yourself too?'

Leonora shook her head. ‘You do look very pretty indeed, but we are on a shopping trip for you, Lottie. This whole palaver is to launch you on Society, don't forget.'

The stays were packaged in pink tissue and tied with cream ribbon and placed in a striped box inscribed Madame Maurice, Modiste of Distinction. They set off down the front steps and hurried on into Old Bond Street. Opposite Stafford Street was a double-fronted shop with the sign Mr Hookhams's Circulating Library painted the width of its frontage. The bow windows were filled with books, some open at a particularly attractive illustration, displayed on various shelves and in decorative stacks on a variety of small tables, with the painted backdrop depicting a fireplace complete with blazing fire.

Inside was full of books and customers, mostly women, reading books. Leonora walked up to the central desk. ‘Would you have any musical scores for piano I could borrow? Some of John Field's shorter works, perhaps?'

Charlotte requested The Heroine, a satiric novel that had been a great success, and glanced across at Mrs Priddy who had picked up a magazine. ‘Is that The Lady's Magazine, Nanny P?'

‘It is, or to give it its proper title,' Mrs Priddy read out, putting on a mock pompous voice, ‘ Entertaining Companion for the Fair Sex, Appropriated Solely to Their Use and Amusement.' She examined it and then made her decision. ‘It costs sixpence, I think I'll buy it. There's so much to read, we will all find something of interest in it, I'm sure.'

Just as Leonora was signing her name against the loan slip for John Field's sonatas, she heard a sibilant voice behind her. ‘Miss Appleby and Miss Blythe, how charming.'

She turned to greet the only woman with such a deceptive way of speaking. ‘Lady Livia, what a pleasant surprise!' Leonora looked up into the pale face of the most disobliging woman she had ever met, only too aware of her own unfashionably glowing cheeks and country demeanour. Was Livia Dearlove's pallor due to lilac powder, good breeding, or natural malice? Leonora wondered. She certainly looked exquisitely pearlescent in her dove grey pelisse, lined with ermine. Charlotte joined them, all three volumes of The Heroine in the crook of her arm.

Lady Livia lisped, ‘I'm just collecting a book of Mr Pope's poetry and then meeting a friend in Bond Street.' Leonora could see Livia Dearlove's chaperone lurking at the front of the library, and she suddenly had the clear apprehension that the noble lady was set on a clandestine meeting with Captain Ormonde. The women all bade their farewells and Leonora watched Lady Livia's elegant back sway towards the exit.

She took Nanny P's arm. ‘Why does she make me feel so unsettled and demeaned?'

‘Come, let's walk home. The fresh air will blow these unwelcome feelings away. Just remember, my dear, it's not Lady Livia who demeans you but your lack of appreciation of yourself. Despite what you may think, you have so many more advantages than she.'

‘Oh Nanny P.' Leonora squeezed her old nanny's plump arm. ‘That's easy to say when you care for me as you do.' Charlotte grasped Mrs Priddy's other arm, and they left Hookham's and walked briskly north towards Brook Street, and a different kind of disquiet.