A Mother's Promise (43 page)

‘Hetty, stop.’

Ignoring him, she dodged in and out between couples strolling arm in arm, and narrowly missed being run down by a man on horseback as she raced across a side street. Charles caught up with her just as she reached the hotel steps. ‘Honey, I’m sorry. You’ve got it all wrong. Just listen to me for a moment.’

Hetty paused with her foot on the bottom step and her hand clutching the railing. ‘I don’t think so. It was my mistake in thinking that you were sincere when you said you loved me. I can see now that it was all a game to you, Charles.’

‘No, indeed it was not. I mean, it is not a game. I do care for you very deeply, Hetty. It’s . . . it’s just . . . look, can we go inside? I can’t explain out here on the sidewalk. Someone might see us together and it would get back to my father.’

‘And that would be a disaster, I suppose?’

‘You don’t understand my circumstances.’

‘No, obviously not, but I’m tired and you’re drunk. I think you’d better go home.’

‘For the love of God, Hetty, let me come to your room and I’ll explain everything.’

‘That wouldn’t be the done thing even in Spitalfields, Charles,’ Hetty said, shaking her head. ‘Go home. If you want to see me tomorrow, you know where to find me.’

He caught her by the hand as she was about to mount the steps, and taking off his top hat he clutched it to his chest with a slightly tipsy but genuinely apologetic smile. ‘No, I can’t leave you like this. We will speak further, but you’re right, I am not in a fit state to talk sensibly. If you will do me the honour of calling on me at home tomorrow morning I will explain everything.’

Hetty looked down at his slim, pale fingers as they curled around her own small hand, and her heart beat just a little faster as she saw a glimmer of hope. Perhaps he had acted this way because she had caught him by surprise? Maybe he still harboured tender feelings for her? Why else would he invite her to visit his home? She gazed into his troubled eyes and she nodded her head. ‘All right, I will.’

Once again, he raised her hand to his lips. ‘Tomorrow morning then, at ten o’clock.’

‘I’ll be there. Goodnight, Charles.’ Hetty
turned away from him to walk slowly up the steps. She did not look back as she entered the hotel lobby.

In spite of everything, she slept well that night and in the morning she was up early and was first down to breakfast. The waitress was frankly curious and obviously fascinated by Hetty’s English accent, and every time she passed the table she stopped to refill her cup with coffee or to enquire if Hetty wanted more toast or butter. Gradually the dining room filled up with people, most of them businessmen, but there were a few couples who cast curious glances at a young woman sitting on her own. Hetty finished her meal and was glad to escape to the privacy of her room, where she waited until it was time to leave for Washington Square. She was both nervous and excited, but at the back of her mind there was the nagging suspicion that Charles had not been entirely honest with her. He seemed so different now from the carefree, fun-loving young man who had stolen her heart in London. She took his ring from the ribbon that she always wore around her neck, and she slipped it on her engagement finger. It was much too large, but she hoped it would soon be replaced by something more suitable.

She dressed with care in a grey watered-silk morning gown trimmed with black braid,
which was the only other garment that she had been able to fit into her suitcase. Lastly, she opened the bandbox and took her new hat from its cocoon of tissue paper. Granny had spent many hours making it especially for her and it was a truly delightful confection. Fashioned from fine straw, iridescent feathers, satin bows and tulle, it perched on her head creating just the fashionable effect that Hetty desired. A quick glance in the mirror above the mantelshelf boosted her confidence. She was out to impress the women in Charles’ family, and to win back his love for her, if indeed it had waned during their long separation. At a quarter to ten, she set off with high hopes, pulses racing and the sensation of a million butterflies fluttering about in her stomach.

A pale butter-yellow sun shone through the partially denuded branches of the trees in the gardens of Washington Square. Uniformed nannies pushed their small charges in perambulators. Well-dressed women walked pampered canines, with their maidservants in attendance ready to take the leash if their mistresses became fatigued by so much effort. Hetty braced her shoulders, took a deep breath and crossed the street to mount the steps of the Wyndham mansion with a show of confidence that she was far from feeling.

This time the maidservant admitted her to the entrance hall without any argument, and Hetty, although she was used to the grandeur of Miss Heathcote’s Mayfair mansion, could not help but be impressed by the splendour and understated elegance of the Wyndhams’ residence. A cantilevered staircase carpeted with an oriental runner rose majestically from the highly polished parquetry floor. The walls were hand-painted with a delicate tracery of foliage, and huge urns were filled with hothouse lilies and orange blossom emitting an almost overpowering fragrance. Hetty was vaguely aware of the ornate plaster cornices and corbels above her head, but her heart was hammering against her ribcage and her palms were damp. She felt quite breathless, and she wished that she had not laced her stays quite so tightly, even if they did reduce her already small waist to a hand’s span.

She followed the maid through double doors into a parlour that was the size of Miss Heathcote’s drawing room but much brighter. Daylight spilled in through four floor-to-ceiling sash windows, illuminating the panels of Chinese Garden wallpaper, where exotic birds with colourful plumage perched on stylised branches entwined with flowers. Crystal and gilt chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their facets glinting in the sunlight and
reflecting in coloured prisms on the ceiling. The Empire-style chairs and sofas looked too delicate to hold the weight of anyone heavier than a small child. Hetty was dazzled, slightly overawed and more than relieved to see Charles standing with his back to the Adam-style fireplace where a welcoming blaze roared up the chimney.

He came towards her with his hands held out and a genuine smile of pleasure on his handsome features. Her heart leapt inside her breast and she would have walked straight into his arms, but he took her gloved hands in his, holding her away from him as his gaze travelled from her perky little hat to her high-button boots. ‘My dear, you look splendid. You’re quite a lady now, Hetty. Indeed you are.’

Her hopes of a passionate embrace were dashed but she revelled in the open admiration of his gaze. ‘I am still the same girl you knew in London, Charles.’

He released her hands, shaking his head. ‘No, honey, you’ve changed almost beyond recognition. I fell in love with a slip of a girl who was out to conquer the world. Now I guess you’ve done that, Hetty.’

‘No, you’re wrong. I am making my way in business, it’s true, and I may have learnt how to dress and how to behave in company, but
my feelings are just the same. I still love you, Charles.’

He turned away to stare into the fire, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. ‘I guess you do, although I can’t see why.’ He shot her a brief glance over his shoulder. ‘I am not the fellow you think I am, Hetty.’

‘But you are, Charles. At least, you are not quite the person I thought you were at first, although you explained all that to me when we went to Hyde Park. Do you remember that day, when you kissed me by the lake and you told me that you loved me and wanted me to be your wife?’ She dragged off her gloves, holding up her left hand so that the firelight glinted on his gold signet ring.

‘I remember,’ Charles murmured, keeping his face averted. ‘I should not have said those things to you.’

Hetty’s blood seemed to freeze in her veins and her heart missed a beat. ‘Are you telling me that it was all lies? Don’t you have any feelings for me at all, Charles?’

He turned slowly and his face was a mask of regret. ‘My dear girl, of course I meant it then, and I guess I do still love you in my way, but . . .’ His voice tailed off and he stared over her shoulder as the door opened. ‘Mother!’

Hetty spun round to see a tall, slender middle-aged woman with fair hair and smoky
blue eyes that were so similar to those of her son, it was impossible to mistake her for anyone other than Charles’ mother. Standing just behind her were two young women, also blonde and blue-eyed, who were staring at Hetty as though she were an exhibit in a freak show. Charles took a step forward, clearing his throat. ‘Mother, may I introduce Miss Hester Huggins, from London, England.’

Mrs Wyndham inclined her head, unsmiling. ‘How do you do, Miss Huggins?’

Hetty bobbed a curtsey. ‘How do you do, ma’am?’

‘And these are my sisters.’ Charles embraced them both with a vague wave of his hand. ‘Cecilia and Isabella.’

The sisters nodded to Hetty but Cecilia’s expression was calculating rather than friendly and Isabella’s pretty face was alive with curiosity. Hetty felt as though Cecilia was evaluating the cost and style of her outfit and finding it sadly lacking. She nodded to them both, clasping her hands tightly behind her back so that they would not see the gold ring that hung loosely from the third finger of her left hand. Mrs Wyndham glided across the Aubusson carpet to alight on one of the spindly, damask-covered sofas. ‘I understand from my son that you are on vacation in Philadelphia. Is it the custom in England for young women to travel
abroad without a chaperone? I am afraid we are not so broad-minded or so careless of our daughters’ reputations here.’

‘Mother,’ Charles protested mildly. ‘That is not quite fair. Hetty and I became acquainted during my stay in London, and she is now a successful businesswoman in her own right. I believe that English girls are more emancipated than the daughters of Philadelphia society.’

‘It would not do for me,’ Cecilia said with a prim smile. ‘I’ve never been anywhere without a chaperone.’

‘Well, personally speaking, I would love to go out and about on my own,’ Isabella said with an impish smile that dimpled her cheeks. ‘I think you are most fortunate, Hetty.’

‘Thank you, Isabella,’ Mrs Wyndham said in a cutting tone. ‘I don’t think anyone asked your opinion.’

Isabella tossed her blonde ringlets and flounced over to the window seat where she collapsed in a flurry of starched petticoats and frilled tarlatan.

Charles shot his sister a grateful smile. ‘I agree with Bella, mother. I think young women ought to be treated more like adults than irresponsible children. I admire Hetty for what she has achieved and for her courage in travelling across the Atlantic on her own.’

‘Yes, if you say so, Charles.’ Mrs Wyndham turned to Hetty and her expression was one of polite indifference. ‘And do you have business here in Philadelphia, Miss Huggins? Is it true that you are in trade?’

Cecilia smothered a snigger and Charles placed his arm around Hetty’s shoulders in a protective gesture that went straight to her heart. ‘Hetty has built up a chain of coffee shops in London. It is an extraordinary achievement; don’t you think so, Mother?’

‘Extraordinary,’ Mrs Wyndham agreed, but it seemed to Hetty that this was not meant to be a compliment.

‘And how long do you propose to stay in Philadelphia?’ Cecilia demanded. ‘Or do you intend to open up more coffee shops here?’

‘No, I do not,’ Hetty said, struggling to control her rising temper. What right had these snooty women to cross-examine her and to look down on her? ‘I came to Philadelphia because I had unfinished business with Charles.’

‘Indeed?’ Cecilia said scornfully. ‘I can’t imagine what that could be, unless you hoped to find yourself a rich husband. I think Eugenie might have something to say about that, don’t you, Charles?’

‘Hush, Cecilia.’ Mrs Wyndham frowned. ‘That’s enough.’

Isabella had been peering out of the window and she turned to them with an irrepressible chuckle. ‘Well, now is your chance to find out exactly what Eugenie will say. Your fiancée is just getting out of her carriage as we speak, Charles.’

The shock of her words was so great that for a moment Hetty was stunned into silence. She felt Charles stiffen and his fingers tightened as they grasped her shoulder. She pulled away from him, staring into his face, waiting for his denial or for him to laugh and tell her that it was his sister’s idea of a joke. He had paled alarmingly and he avoided her gaze. As if struck by lightning, Hetty knew that Isabella’s casually spoken words had been nothing but the truth. ‘Charles?’ His name was wrenched from her lips in a cry of anguish.

He held out his hand and then let it fall to his side. ‘Honey, I was going to tell you . . .’

‘Charles, it seems that you have been leading this poor creature on.’ Mrs Wyndham rose from her seat, shaking out her silken skirts. ‘That is not the sort of behaviour I would expect from a Wyndham.’

‘Mother, you don’t understand. It wasn’t like that,’ Charles protested. He turned to Hetty with an imploring look. ‘Hetty, honey, you’ve got to believe me. I meant everything I said to you in London.’

‘That would be the first time you ever did,’ Cecilia said with a contemptuous snort. ‘You always were a liar, Charles. Even as a child you would do or say anything to get your own way.’

Mrs Wyndham raised her hand in an imperious gesture. ‘Be silent, Cecilia. It would appear that your brother behaved less than chivalrously when he was away from home, but that is by the by.’ She turned to Hetty with a superior smile. ‘My dear young woman, I am sorry if my son’s behaviour has given you false hopes, but the truth is that there was an understanding between Charles and Eugenie long before he went to London.’

Hetty was stung into retaliation by Mrs Wyndham’s patronising manner. ‘It cannot have been a serious attachment if he was prepared to spend so long away from her, and people change. I believe that Charles was sincere in his feelings for me. Nothing will convince me otherwise.’

‘Eugenie’s maid has just rung the doorbell,’ Isabella said conversationally. ‘This should be interesting.’

‘Be quiet, Bella,’ Mrs Wyndham snapped. ‘If you cannot say anything sensible you should hold your tongue.’