Authors: Amanda McCabe
Improper Ladies (3 page)
Yet here he was. Standing once again in the foyer of Seward House. It all looked the same. The same family portraits hung on the walls; the same faded Aubusson rug lined the floor. Richards was the same, trying to hide his undignified emotion behind a stolid facade. His mother even smelled the same, of roses and sugar cakes.
But she did not look the same, Justin thought as he drew back a bit to look at her. Amelia had been pale and sickly when he left four years ago. Almost like a shadow. Now she had gained some weight; her lavender silk gown lay smooth on her rounded shoulders. Her cheeks were a pale pink, her eyes sparkling with delight at her son’s homecoming. She must have ceased taking the “medicine” she used to have.
“I started for home as soon as I received your letter about Father and Edward’s accident, Mother,” he said. “I’m sorry it has taken me so very long.”
“I know, dear. It was so ... so very difficult, all alone without them,” Amelia said, with a rather watery smile. “You are here, though, and that is all that matters. I am certain all will be well now.”
All would be well? “Mother, what? ...”
Amelia shook her head. “Not now. I will tell you everything later, but right now you must be so tired. Come into the drawing room and have some tea. I want to hear all about your journey, and about India! How very brown you have become there, dear.”
They were quickly settled in the elegant blue-and-silver drawing room, with a vast tray of tea, cakes, and sandwiches. Justin sat back and watched his mother pour out the tea, listening as she prattied happily about the Season just concluding and her plans for the summer ahead. When at last the final seedcake was eaten and Amelia had paused for breath, Justin said, “I suppose Harry is still at Cambridge, then.”
Amelia’s bright smile faded, and her gaze fell away from his.
A small chill touched Justin’s weary heart. He leaned toward her, reaching out to catch her hand and cease her sudden fussing with the tea things. “Mother? Is something wrong with Harry? Is he ill?”
She shook her head. “No, he is not ill. It is just—oh, Justin! I
am
glad you are home. I simply don’t know what to do.”
am
glad you are home. I simply don’t know what to do.”
Justin released her hand and sank back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “Mother, you must tell me, whatever it is.”
“Harry has been sent down from Cambridge.”
“Sent down! Well, surely there are appeals that can be made, people to speak to....”
“It is the third time. They will not have him back.”
Justin was appalled. Harry had been sent down from Cambridge
three
times? Even he himself, at the height of his mischief-making youth, had managed to stay at university.
three
times? Even he himself, at the height of his mischief-making youth, had managed to stay at university.
Harry must have done something very bad indeed.
“When did this happen?” he asked quietly.
“Not long before your father died. He was livid with Harry, absolutely livid!” Amelia shuddered. “I had never seen Walter so angry.”
Justin could well imagine. His father had dealt with one wayward son, only to have another spring up in his place.
He could only shake his head at the desperate foolishness of youth. Wisdom was so hard-won, especially in India. He hoped his brother could be spared a hard lesson like that. Perhaps his hopes were in vain; he knew how heedless a rakish youth could be.
And now his mother was looking to him to solve all their difficulties.
“What is Harry doing now?” he asked.
Amelia shrugged. “Not very much of anything, I believe. I seldom see him. He is not interested in going to Almack’s with me, or to
respectable
balls and routs. I think ... I think he has become quite a
rake.
” Her cheeks flamed as she whispered the word. “I do hear such stories about him, though I am sure they cannot be true.”
respectable
balls and routs. I think ... I think he has become quite a
rake.
” Her cheeks flamed as she whispered the word. “I do hear such stories about him, though I am sure they cannot be true.”
Justin groaned to himself. He had hoped that once he got home, once he left the strangeness of India behind, his life would be peaceful. That he could marry, raise a passle of brats, and be quiet and respectable at long last.
That was obviously not to be.
“The Season is over now, though,” Amelia continued. “Surely things will be better once we are back in the country, at Waring Castle. There will be no bad influences for him there.”
Justin rubbed wearily at his jaw. “He has agreed to go to Waring for the summer, then?”
“Not exactly. But I am sure that now you are home, you can persuade him.”
Justin was not so sure. He remembered all too well the determination of a headstrong boy set on being a rake. He also knew the terrible consequences of such heedlessness.
“I will see what I can do, Mother,” he said.
She nodded, seemingly satisfied. “There is one more ball before absolutely everyone leaves Town, and I think we should attend. My friend Lady Bellweather has the loveliest daughter who just made her bow this Season. I am sure you would like her. . . .”
Her words faded away as the drawing-room door flew open and Harry rushed in. His hair, a darker brown than Justin’s own sun-touched locks, fell in an untidy tangle over his brow, and he was in need of a shave. But it was really his clothes that made Justin’s brow raise. Harry wore canary-yellow breeches below a purple—purple!—waistcoat, and a bottle-green coat.
And were those
parrots
embroidered on that waistcoat?
parrots
embroidered on that waistcoat?
Justin knew then that they had more trouble than his mother thought.
“So you’re home at last, eh, Justin?” Harry said, sauntering over to drape himself across the chair next to his mother’s. He stuffed the last of the cucumber sandwiches into his mouth and chewed, grinning the whole time. “I see you were too wily for those old natives! Didn’t even get stepped on by an elephant.”
“Indeed,” Justin answered slowly. “It is good to see you again, Harry.”
Harry laughed. “I suppose Mother has been telling you all about those toads at Cambridge chucking me out.”
“Something of the sort.”
“Well, they had no business to do it, I can tell you! It was all a harmless hum. A misunderstanding.”
“Your third misunderstanding, apparently.”
“Yes, well,
you
know how it goes. These things happen. But it’s given me time for more ... edifying experiences, I can tell you!” He chuckled, leaving no doubt as to the nature of those “edifying” experiences.
you
know how it goes. These things happen. But it’s given me time for more ... edifying experiences, I can tell you!” He chuckled, leaving no doubt as to the nature of those “edifying” experiences.
Amelia’s cheeks colored even further, and Justin longed to box his brother’s foolish ears for being such an improper dolt in front of her.
But Harry seemed quite oblivious to any distress or discomfort. He went on. “I say, Justin! I’m going with some friends to the Golden Feather tonight. Why don’t you come? It will be a proper welcome home.”
“And what might this Golden Feather be?” Justin asked with careful casualness. He knew how much Harry would enjoy disapproval.
“It’s a jolly place! My friends and I go there three or four times a week. It’s a first-rate gaming hell, really top of the trees.”
“A gaming hell!” Amelia cried. “Harry, really.”
“Oh, Mother, it’s not like that,” Harry scoffed. “You can’t even really call it a hell. It’s perfectly respectable. Members only allowed, and the members are all good
ton.
Nothing havey-cavey. Mrs. Archer wouldn’t allow it.”
ton.
Nothing havey-cavey. Mrs. Archer wouldn’t allow it.”
“Mrs. Archer?” Justin said.
“She owns the place. Very lovely, but very mysterious. She always wears a mask.” Harry’s face softened as he spoke of this mysterious Mrs. Archer. “You
should
come tonight, Justin. I have heard she means to sell the place soon, and it will never be the same without her.”
should
come tonight, Justin. I have heard she means to sell the place soon, and it will never be the same without her.”
It sounded a perfectly dismal evening. Justin wanted only a bath, a brandy, and his bed. “Harry, I hardly think ...” he began. Then he caught his mother’s eye. She gave him a little nod.
She obviously thought that Harry could not get into trouble with Justin watching his every move. And perhaps she was right.
So, even though his tired body was shrieking in protest, Justin nodded. “Thank you, Harry,” he said. “I would like very much to go with you tonight.”
Chapter Two
It was another busy evening at the Golden Feather.
Caroline stood alone in her small office, peering through her secret peephole at the large gaming room. Every chair was filled, every champagne glass glistened, and every table was piled with coins, notes, and jewels. Laughter and the sweet scent of the many flower arrangements floated through the air to her.
Even though the Season was winding to a close, the more daring of society still flocked to the Golden Feather, just as they had every night for four years now.
She gave a small smile. This was perfect. Perfect for one of her last nights in the gaming club. It would be a grand send-off, and no one in London would ever forget the mysterious Mrs. Archer.
Letting the little peephole cover slide into place, she turned back to her office and went over to the desk. The polished mahogany surface was covered with ledgers and papers, but she ignored them and reached for a small, neatly folded letter. She had read it a dozen times since it had arrived a week ago, but it still never failed to make her smile.
Phoebe was soon to finish her studies at Mrs. Medlock’s School for Young Ladies. Her excitement over her girlish plans seemed to spill from the carefully penned words. Caroline couldn’t help but feel a bit excited herself. And not just for Phoebe, but for herself as well.
At long last, she was leaving the Golden Feather. The place had served its purpose well. She had a nice, tidy fortune tucked away, and stood to gain even more when she chose a buyer for the Golden Feather. She was a wealthy woman, and she and Phoebe would never have to worry about money again.
And if her soul had shriveled a little more each night as she strolled through the opulent rooms, watching fools lose their money, listening to lechers’ suggestive whispers, it was worth it for that security.
Was it not?
Caroline carefully folded the letter and placed it in her locked drawer. Her only escape in these four years had been her annual holidays with Phoebe. Now they could be together all the time, be a true family again.
That
was worth anything, anything at all.
That
was worth anything, anything at all.
She had already arranged to rent a house for the summer, at the seaside resort of Wycombe-on-Sea, where they had sometimes gone with their parents as little girls. There she could rest at last and wash away the past years in the clean seawater. She and Phoebe could plan how best to introduce Phoebe to some kind of good society. Surely their parents’ names still carried weight with someone....
A knock sounded at the inner office door, interrupting these musings.
“Yes?” Caroline called.
“It’s Mary, madam.”
“Come in, Mary.”
Mary was Caroline’s maid, and had been ever since she had come to the Golden Feather. Once, in another life, she had been Caroline’s nanny. She was the only other person who knew her true identity, and Caroline trusted her implicitly.
Mary bustled into the room, carrying a red wig, a black silk mask, and a small rosewood cosmetics box. “It’s almost midnight, madam. They’ll be expecting your grand appearance.”
The tentative excitement and hope vanished before the prospect of the evening ahead. Caroline sighed. “Yes, of course.”
Obviously sensing her melancholy, Mary patted her shoulder comfortingly. “It won’t be long now, madam. In two weeks, maybe even less if that buyer comes through, we’ll be gone from here.”
“You are quite right, Mary. Not long now.” Caroline rose from the desk and went around to the small, gilt-framed mirror on the wall. She took the red wig, fashioned into elaborate curls and decorated with ebony and crystal combs, and fitted it carefully over her own short, silvery-blond hair. Over it she tied the ribbons of the black silk mask that covered all her face except her mouth and lower jaw.
“Do you have the lip rouge?” she asked, making sure that no telltale blond strands showed beneath the red.
“Of course, madam.” Mary brought the tiny enameled pot of rouge out from the cosmetics box and handed it to her.
Caroline used the little brush to paint her lips crimson, making them appear larger and richer than her usual pale rose bow. Then she slid glittering emerald drops into her earlobes and removed her shawl to reveal a low-cut, deep green satin gown. Long black gloves and high-heeled green satin shoes completed what she thought of as her “costume.”
No one who ever encountered her as Mrs. Caroline Aldritch could possibly connect her to Mrs. Archer of the Golden Feather.
“All right, Mary,” she said in a voice that seemed even deeper and lower. “I am ready to make my appearance.”
Justin stood in the doorway between the dining room and the gaming room of the Golden Feather and looked about in growing boredom.
It was just like all the other gaming establishments he had frequented before he left for India. Fancier than most, perhaps, luxuriously appointed and full of fine flowers and champagne. And the people crowded around the tables were undoubtedly well dressed and well-bred, gentlemen in evening dress and ladies, some masked, in bright silks and jewels. But it was the same.
There was the same look on these people’s faces, a mix of desperation and hope. The laughter had the same sharp edge. The same smell of liquor, cigar smoke, and perfume hung in the air.
What had he ever found so appealing in such places? It was appalling, especially after the brutal honesty and the shimmering skies of India. He wanted to run from it all, to breathe in fresh, clean air.
But once he had loved it all with a desperate excitement he saw now on his brother’s face.
Harry sat at one of the card tables, avidly studying the hand he had just been dealt. A woman in a blue feathered mask sat beside him. She laid her kid-gloved hand on his arm and whispered something in his ear. Harry nodded and laughed, a sharp, brittle sound.
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