A Dream Come True (5 page)

She did not waste any time and made her way to the study without hesitating.

It felt odd knocking on the door, knowing that it would be Sir Arthur sitting there, not her father.

“Come in!”

Lucia could tell at once by his curt tone that he was not in a good humour.

“Lucia, please sit down.”

She looked around for the leather armchair that she used to sit in as a child and settled down in front of him.

Sir Arthur did not meet her gaze. He stood behind the large oak desk and addressed himself to the pile of papers stacked in front of him.

“Lucia, you will no doubt have seen a telegram arrive whilst we were away. It does not bring good news. The short of it is that the American factory in which I invested has gone into liquidation, leaving considerable debts in its wake. If I cannot find twenty-five thousand pounds at once, then I shall lose everything – the factory in Manchester and, most likely, we shall have to sell Bingham Hall.”

“No! You cannot! It is Mama's.”

“It is the bank's, Lucia, not your mother's. She was forced to mortgage it after your father died and that is why we need so much money to bail ourselves out.”

Lucia was dumbstruck. Sell Bingham Hall? That could not happen!

Just then, her mother entered the room. All the bloom had drained from her cheeks and her eyes were puffy from crying.

“Oh, my dear. I am so sorry,” she wailed rushing to Lucia's side. “I have already told you how my long illness and the expense of settling your father's debts had plunged us into debt. I did not tell you at the time, but I had to mortgage Bingham Hall to make ends meet. So, now there is no spare money.”

Lucia looked up miserably at her mother and then at Sir Arthur, who stood at his desk fuming, as if it had somehow been Lord Mountford's fault that he was now in danger of bankruptcy.

‘How dare he look injured, when it is all his fault that we now find ourselves in such dreadful circumstances after persuading Mama to marry him off the back of his so-called fortune!'

She wished she could voice her feelings and may indeed have done, had her mother not presented such a pathetically sad figure beside her. She was crying again and wringing her hands.

“What is to become of us? What is to become of us?” she repeated over and over again.

“As I said to your mother,” continued Sir Arthur, “it may come to pass that I shall have to sell everything I own down South and then, we will have to move to my home in Didsbury.”

“Move up North?” cried Lucia horrified. “That would mean us leaving all we have known in Shilborough – and London! Mama, you cannot agree to this.”

“Darling, we might not have the choice,” said her mother in a wan voice. “If your stepfather cannot raise the money, you will have to face the fact that we shall have to move.”

Lucia sat in her chair feeling numb and shocked. She had not expected anything so dreadful.

‘Leave Bingham Hall?' she wailed to herself, as her mother continued to cry softly.

Just when she had believed her life to be starting anew comes this ghastly piece of news.

‘Leave Shilborough for some dirty Northern town I will hate? Never! Never!'

A pall of misery hung over Bingham Hall for the next few days.

Lucia scarcely saw Sir Arthur who spent much of his time closeted in the study with dour-looking men who had the slightly earnest air of accountants.

Lucia became accustomed to dining alone with her mother, as his meetings went on long into the evening.

She became very concerned about the change that had come over her mother during this time. The healthy complexion she had brought back from Italy soon vanished and often she took to her bed for hours at a time.

The cough that she had dismissed as being ‘slight' became more pronounced and Lucia could hear it echoing along the corridors late at night.

She pushed her food around her plate at mealtimes and said she was not hungry. Lucia kept a close eye upon her, fearing that her old illness might recur.

She almost telephoned Edward de Redcliffe to ask him to take someone else to the ball, but her mother would not hear of it.

“You must go and keep your stepfather company,” she insisted, sitting up in bed one afternoon. “I know you have given your word to Edward that you will go, but promise me that you will make certain that your stepfather is also entertained.”

“Yes, Mama,” Lucia answered glumly, thinking that she might prefer to stay at home if she were forced to spend more than five minutes alone with her stepfather.

As they were discussing who else might be going to the ball, Sir Arthur walked into the bedroom.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked without a hint of emotion in his voice.

“Yes, thank you, dear. I am just a little tired. I have asked Lucia to keep you company at the ball in a few days time.”

Sir Arthur raised an eyebrow at his stepdaughter.

“I trust you are not thinking of rushing off to Bond Street to buy some over-priced gown or other. We must practice frugality in our current circumstances.”

“I have a gown that will be most suitable for the occasion,” responded Lucia bristling. “I am not the sort of girl who wears a dress once and then discards it.”

“I am glad to hear it,” he snapped. “I have been going over the household accounts and there are one or two economies I would wish to discuss with your mother. Now, leave us, Lucia.”

Biting her lip to hold back her rising temper, Lucia squeezed her mother's hand and rose from the chair by the bedside.

‘The manner in which he addresses me is so abrupt. I know that Northern folk have a reputation for plain speaking, but he is just plain rude.'

Later, at dinner, Lucia was relieved to see that her mother had made the effort to get out of bed and was making an attempt to eat some soup that cook had made especially for her.

“Are you feeling any better, Mama?” she asked kindly.

“A little, thank you, darling. I think the sleep did me some good.”

Almost immediately she began to cough. At first, Lucia thought that perhaps some soup had gone down the wrong way, but she had already finished it.

“Mama!” she cried in alarm. “Perhaps we should call the doctor?”

“We cannot afford it unless your mother is very ill,” cut in Sir Arthur without waiting for his wife to reply. “Doctors cost money and we do not have the brass to throw around at the moment.”

“But if Mama needs it – ”

“If I deem her ill enough to warrant the expense, then I shall call a doctor. Until then, we will look after her ourselves.”

After summoning Moston to bring her a glass of water, her mother eventually recovered herself.

With admirable composure, she resumed the conversation. However, Lucia thought that she looked grey and drained.

“Arthur, how did your meeting go today?”

“The accountants have advised me that it is not the right time to be selling Bingham Hall. War may be brewing in Europe and the property market is not good at the moment. There is no point in selling such a valuable asset for too low a price.”

Lucia felt very relieved.

‘At least I will not have to leave the County,' she thought.

“No, we shall have to think of another means to find twenty-five thousand pounds,” continued her stepfather. “But there is not much time. I am attempting to secure the money, but we must not raise our hopes. I may have to resort to other avenues.”

As he set down his glass, he threw Lucia a meaningful stare.

‘Does this somehow involve me?' she thought with a sick feeling. ‘The way he looked at me makes me believe he has some plan I am to be a part in.' She knew that could mean only one thing – a suitable and profitable match.

Lucia finished her meal in silence. Although she had of late begun to think more about marriage, it would have to be under the right circumstances.

‘Ideally, I would have to love and respect the man,' she thought, as she toyed with a plate of fruit. ‘And I would need to find him attractive and handsome – ”

Lucia was a little unworldly when it came to romance. Although she had found plenty of admirers in Paris, she had not taken them at all seriously.

“The French are wont to make love to any attractive woman they meet,” a friend had told her and so she had enjoyed light flirtations with Jacques, Stefan and Charles without even so much as kissing one of them on the lips.

Since she had returned to England, Edward de Redcliffe really was the only man who had even vaguely sparked her interest. And that was largely because he seemed so attracted to her and there was also the factor that Emmeline had seemed to be so keen to arrange a good match.

Lucia liked to please her friends and Emmeline was her oldest one. She had written numerous letters after that first meeting with Edward, asking Lucia when she might see him again and had he tried to kiss her yet?

Lucia felt as if Emmeline was willing something to happen between them in order to have the feather of their romance for her cap.

“I have allowed him to call,” she had written to Emmeline. “He seems a solid and dependable soul, if a little old-fashioned. Mama likes him a great deal as she says he is well-mannered and respectful.”

Not knowing any differently, Lucia told herself that she would be willing to settle for a man who was decent and upright like Edward. She knew that her stepfather, if he did indeed intend to try and make a match for her, would probably find someone a great deal older and set in his ways.

‘Could I really marry someone to save Mama and Bingham Hall from ruin?' she asked her reflection, as Mary-Anne brushed her hair out later that evening. ‘Papa always told me that I should put my family first and I suppose if I am forced to, I would do it, but only so that Mama would be looked-after and comfortable.'

Thanking Mary-Anne, she dismissed her and climbed into bed. She turned down the oil lamp by her bed and stared into the darkness of her room.

‘Could I really marry a man I did not love and still be happy?' she mused. ‘Perhaps Edward will propose and offer to help once he hears of our predicament. Maybe I should hope that he will ask me to marry him before stepfather finds another suitor for me. I should be so much happier if I felt as if I had some choice in the matter.'

With this thought comforting her, Lucia drifted off to sleep, trying to think of ways to make Edward fall in love with her.

*

The day of the ball soon dawned and, in spite of Lucia's attempts at persuasion, her mother could not be coaxed down from her bedroom.

“It will do you good to go out,” she had said to her.

“No, dearest. I feel far too weak to stand up at a ball all evening. You go with Edward and your stepfather. Keep an eye on him and dance with him at least once – promise me?”

“Yes, Mama,” agreed Lucia dutifully, feeling revulsion as she said the words.

She had not warmed to her stepfather any more since the day of the wedding and she felt as if she never would.

At the appointed time, Mary-Anne came to dress her. The lemon-silk dress flattered her complexion and made her eyes look bluer than their usual shade of grey. The dress was heavy with cream-coloured lace and she decided to wear her pearls to complement it.

“Will you be wearing your dancing slippers, miss?” asked Mary-Anne, opening the wardrobe.

“There are some cream ones at the back that I have not worn for a long while.”

“You can't wear these, miss. Look, they are nearly threadbare in places.”

Lucia sighed. She had quite forgotten that she had almost ruined them the last time she had worn them in Paris. And now, she was faced with the prospect of either wearing tatty slippers or a pair that did not match her outfit.

“Could you not freshen them up a little?” she asked hopefully.

Mary-Anne looked at them again.

“I'll see what Ican do with a kettle and some steam,”she replied.

“I will be as quick as I can.”

Half an hour later Mary-Anne brought them back.

“There,” she beamed, bending down to slip Lucia's foot into one. “I won't say they're as good as new, but I've managed to patch up the holes. Just don't you go scuffing them together and they might hold. No one will be looking that closely at them, I'm sure.”

Lucia wished she was quite as confident as her maid. She knew that every girl in the County would be present in her best clothes and that some took great pleasure in finding fault with each others' attire.

At that moment she heard the front door bell ring.

‘That will be Edward,' she said to herself.

She rose, waited while Mary-Anne draped her white velvet coat with a fur collar around her shoulders and proceeded downstairs.

“Miss Lucia, Mr. de Redcliffe is in the drawing room,” announced Moston.

“And my stepfather?”

“Briggs is bringing the Rolls Royce round to the front and he will follow you to the ball.”

Lucia hesitated for a moment before entering the drawing room. Looking in the hall mirror, she pinched her cheeks and ran her tongue over her lips to make them dewy.

‘There, I shall look my best.'

She knew by the way that Edward's eyes lit up when he saw her that she had achieved the desired effect.

“Lucia – how delightful you look,” he said in his understated fashion.

He took her hand and kissed it.

“I noticed that your Rolls Royce is outside. I would prefer that we travelled in my carriage. I do not really care for motor cars.”

“The Rolls Royce is waiting for my stepfather. He is also attending the ball this evening.”

“Come,” he said quietly, holding out his arm.

Lucia felt excited as they climbed into Edward's brougham. It was highly luxurious and she admired the fine interior.

“I hope it does not rain or your stepfather will find himself a trifle wet,” Edward remarked, as a chilly wind blew through the open window.