Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

O akley was at sixes and sevens the day of his aunt’s dinner party, unable to content himself at his club, positively itching while he was at home, and wholly disinterested in being anywhere else. The hours dragged by mercilessly until half past four, which he decided was near enough to five to begin the short journey to Dover Street to collect Bess and take her to Grosvenor Square, where Carbrooke House stood.

Two surprises awaited him in Dover Street. The first was that the housekeeper was familiar to him: Mrs Norris was her name. What was so peculiar about it was that the good lady had been Lady Leighton’s housekeeper. Had she gone with Bess after her marriage? Not uncommon for a maid to do, but a housekeeper? Then again, even servants had their own reasons for doing things.

As she led him down the hall from the vestibule, he enquired, “Have you changed houses, ma’am?”

“Beg your pardon, sir?”

“You are here, in Mrs Beamish’s house. Did you leave Lady Leighton’s employ?”

“Forgive me sir, but no. This is Lady Leighton’s house, for the Season anyhow.”

“Oh, I see.” In fact, he did not see. Why would Bess be at her mother’s house instead of her own? Did it mean she had not wished him to see where they lived? Or perhaps she and Beamish both stayed with Lady Leighton?

There was little time to consider it, for they came to the door of the drawing room then, overhearing the sounds of a shocking row within. A male voice shouted, “…think for a moment that I do not know what he is about and as God is my witness I shall see him swing if I must!”

The door was flung wide from the man inside, and Mrs Norris leapt backwards with a yelp as it nearly hit her. Oakley laid a hand on her back to steady her, although for himself, it was not the sudden opening of the door which amazed him as much as whom he saw framed within. It was Mr Hanson, once his friend, once betrothed to Adelaide, and now despised by all.

Hanson fell back a step, looking disconcerted by Oakley’s appearance. “Forgive me,” he muttered.

Oakley peered past Hanson and saw Bess, alone and undeniably stricken-looking, standing in the middle of the room. It roused a powerful protective instinct in his breast. One large, quick pace brought him into the scene.

“What are you doing here?” He grabbed Hanson’s lapels, pulling him closer. “How do you know Mrs Beamish?”

Hanson shoved him backwards. “I should think the question is whether you know Mrs Beamish.”

Bess laid a hand to her chest, and Oakley could see her visibly trembling. Mrs Norris pushed past the men, moving towards Bess, but Bess said, “Mrs Norris, you may go.” The housekeeper did not require a second invitation to do so.

Oakley ignored Hanson’s cryptic remark. “You have clearly upset the lady,” he said, his tone low and menacing. “And I am afraid I must insist you leave at once.”

Hanson had been ostentatiously straightening his coat but stopped, looking at Oakley with slitted eyes. “By whose authority do you insist I do anything?”

“By the authority of decency. You cannot storm into a lady’s house and distress her! You are a gentleman, are you not?” In truth, Oakley thought not, but it seemed to have the desired effect.

Hanson pursed his lips and cast another look towards Bess. Very slowly, he went past Oakley in the direction of the door. “My apologies if I have caused you distress, madam,” he said to Bess. “It was not my intention. The matter between us?—”

“There is no matter between us,” said Bess, suddenly thrusting her chin forwards, though it was clearly feigned bravery. The hand at her chest still trembled, and her voice shook a little. “Only Mr Beamish has what you seek of him. I am not a party to his business dealings.”

“Business.” Hanson gave a scoffing chuckle, but he left. Moments later, they heard the door close behind him.

Oakley could not stop the questions that tumbled from his mouth. “Good lord, what was that about? Are you alone? Where is your mother? Where is Beamish?”

“O-oakley,” she said weakly. “F-forgive me, but I am not feeling well.”

He shook his head. “Of course, forgive me. Here, come, you must sit.” Placing one hand on the small of her back, he steered her towards the nearest chair. She sank into it, looking grateful.

“I shall send word to Lady Carbrooke,” Oakley said, moving towards the escritoire. “She will understand completely if you are unable?—”

“No, no.” Bess shook her head firmly. “I am dressed and prepared to go. I need only a minute to collect myself.”

“Shall I ring for tea? Wine?”

Bess again shook her head, closing her eyes a moment as she did.

He was helpless and wished, above everything, that he had punched the expression off Hanson’s face the minute he saw him. He knew not why, of course, but that Hanson deserved something of a violent nature was certain. Then again, that could only have distressed dear Bess even further.

He took a seat, sighing as he did. Bess was in an abject posture; having retrieved a handkerchief from some pocket, he supposed, she had covered her eyes. Did she weep? He knew not, nor did he know what to do about it.

After what seemed like many long minutes in silence, he said, gently, “I am sorry you have been treated so infamously by Hanson. He is a dastard and a fool.”

Bess made a small noise that sounded like agreement.

“How do you know him? I was not aware?—”

“I do not know him.” Bess suddenly stood, her posture firm and upright and her voice bright. “Shall we go? Come, let us go.”

Taken aback by the sudden shift, it took Oakley a moment to find his feet. “Are you well enough to?—”

“Quite well!” she exclaimed brightly. “Come, forget Mr Hanson, let us go and enjoy the evening.”

He glanced at the mantel clock. “We are somewhat early?—”

“Then we will walk! Or drive! We can go through the park; it will be lovely.” Again, that bright, forced smile. It was charming but…false. And baffling.

“Are you certain you are well? My aunt would understand?—”

Bess’s smile was beginning to appear somewhat maniacal. She beckoned him to follow as she made quick paces towards the door to the hall. “I am not only up to it, I am positively mad to get there. I have heard such wonderful things about Lady Carbrooke’s art collection! Dear Scarlett will be there, too, I hope?”

“Um, yes I do think she will, and Frederica, as well.” Confusion made him speak and move slowly as he trailed behind her into the hall, trying to gather his wits.

“But not Lady Kemerton?” she enquired over her shoulder.

“The baby…Susanna…something about her teeth?” Oakley said. The click of Bess’s heels on the marble made him realise he had better pick up the pace, lest she charge right out of the front door without him as it seemed she might do.

“Her teeth? I suppose you must mean that the baby is teething?”

“I believe that is it, yes.” He chuckled, this time more genuinely. “I must say, until I saw Susanna, I had no notion that babies did not come with teeth.”

That made Bess laugh. “Oakley, you are too droll. Good thing for the wet nurses that they do not!”

They reached the front door and the footman there leapt into duty, though he did give Bess a curious look as he did. It made Oakley realise what was amiss.

“Your pelisse, Mrs Beamish? And I presume the ladies are still wearing gloves to go out?” He forced a laugh.

“Oh goodness! Look at that. I was so eager to be gone… Norris, can you imagine? I very nearly went into the street without being properly attired.”

The housekeeper had arrived with Oakley’s hat and gloves, a maid behind her carrying Bess’s pelisse and gloves. Oakley donned his hat and was pulling on his gloves when he heard the maid ask, sounding confused, “Your earrings, ma’am? Did you wish for them?”

It was then he realised that Bess wore no jewellery at all. No earrings, no necklace, no bracelet…not even a brooch. It was not improper, of course, but it was odd. Even the maid herself had a small cross on a chain around her neck.

Bess raised her hand to touch the naked earlobe. “Oh…yes. Will you go and get, from my bedchamber, the pearl set I brought with me from Stanbridge?”

Mrs Norris and the maid exchanged looks. “If you do not mind me saying so, ma’am,” Mrs Norris ventured, “dinner with a marchioness might require a bit more than your girlhood pearls. Perhaps you might?—”

“The pearls,” Bess said very firmly. “Necklace and earrings. They will do.”

“Very good, then.” Mrs Norris turned and hastened away, the maid following her.

“Despite what her ill-considered comments at the Duchess of Sedgwick’s ball might have made you think, I beg you would not be distressed by my aunt’s questions about your necklace,” Oakley said. “She meant nothing by that.”

“I assure you, I am not distressed at all,” Bess replied lightly. “I simply prefer to wear my pearls.”

“Good, good.”

It was an excessively awkward pause after the servants left. Even the footman seemed to have melted away as all the best footmen did. Bess stared at nothing, and Oakley tried not to stare at Bess while the ticking of the mahogany longcase clock sounded excessively loud, or so it seemed. It was impossible not to admire the glow of her complexion, the way one lock of hair fell gracefully against her neck, and the elegance of her mannerisms and gestures.

She caught him out, looking at her, and appeared pleased by it, meeting his gaze with a shy smile and cheeks that grew pink. He did not attempt to hide what he felt, what he knew must show in his expression. When she dropped her eyes, he knew: she still had some attachment to him, perhaps not as much as he did to her—but it was there.

He took a step towards her, helpless against the draw of her. “Bess?—”

She took a step backwards and said, brightly, “Adelaide seems very devoted to her child.”

“Devotion is something we Richmonds excel at,” he said very gravely.

“Oakley…”

He held up his hands. “Married woman. I know. But the night I visited you on Stratton Street?—”

“Does not signify.” With a deep breath, she said, “The baby’s name is…Susan?”

And with that, Oakley understood. They would not discuss it. Frustration, an uncommon feeling to him, burned in his chest, and he realised his fists were clenched. He released them slowly.

“Susanna,” he replied with a determined smile. “And yes, Adelaide is an exemplary mother. I should imagine their early, motherless experiences must have made all of my sisters eager to do better.”

“And so they shall,” Bess replied lightly as Mrs Norris came bustling back into the vestibule. Oakley watched while the simple strand of pearls was fastened around Bess’s neck and the equally simple earrings were placed in her ears. In truth the simple jewellery was perfect. She was beautiful enough without being ostentatious, or wearing an elaborate parure.

Oakley offered his arm as they exited to his carriage, trying not to think how right it felt to have her on his arm. The faint whiff of her scent teased his nose while they traversed the short distance and he handed her into the carriage. His pulse leapt as she smiled at him in gratitude for his assistance; he only wished he had the right to give her far more.