My Wayward Lady (3 page)
She made as if to leave, but Harriet, her suspicions aroused by this sudden shift in attitude, laid a hand on her arm. "Stay a minute, Bessie," she begged. Then, in her characteristic, and what her family considered to be disastrously forthright, manner she shot a penetrating look at the uneasy Bessie. "I suspect that there is more to this than 22
My Wayward Lady
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meets the eye. Something is amiss and I certainly cannot help you unless you tell me everything. Now what is it?" No proof against the interest and concern in Harriet's eyes, Bessie dropped the brazen air of sophistication as quickly as she had assumed it and once more looked like the simple farmer's daughter that she was underneath the fashionable clothes she wore. "'Tis nothing for you to concern yourself over, my lady," she began cautiously.
"But I
wish
to concern myself, Bessie," Harriet responded stubbornly.
There was no resisting Lady Harriet Fareham when she got that look in her eye and that determined set to her chin, Bessie thought. The entire village of Thornby knew that took well enough and it meant Lady Harriet was not to be dissuaded. Bessie had seen it when Harriet had snatched a whip from a villainous-looking tinker who was beating his horse unmercifully and another time when some of the boys had been taunting Ben, the blacksmith's simple son. That look meant that Harriet had seen a wrong she was bound to right and the rest of the world be damned.
"Very well." Bessie sighed. "But London is not like Thornby, my lady. You must be careful of your reputation, for no one here will care that you are Lady Harriet Fareham and you will be scorned by society if you concern yourself too much in my affairs."
"What ever are you saying, Bessie? If something is wrong, why naturally I shall concern myself." 23
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"No! You must not." It was Bessie's turn to look obstinate.
"See how people are already staring at us? You must not be seen with me."
Harriet glanced around. There appeared to be some truth in what Bessie said, for indeed, some of the town beaux who had been leaning idly against the nearby pillars of the porte cochere were regarding them with some amusement, and her elder sister, who had cast a nervous glance in their direction was tugging on the sleeve of their brother Charlie. "This is all the purest nonsense, Bessie. Why should we not be seen together?"
Bessie heaved an exasperated sigh. It appeared that Lady Harriet had not the least idea of what she had become or of her reasons for being at the opera. "It is not seemly, my lady. You are a lady and I ... I work for Mrs. Lovington as one of her, her..."
At last comprehension dawned in Harriet's eyes, but the stubborn set of her jaw remained. "We are old acquaintances, Bessie," she replied firmly, "and surely there is nothing wrong in old acquaintances discussing times past with each other, unless"—Harriet paused as she was struck by a sudden thought—"unless I am keeping you, er, from someone." Bessie smiled tremulously. Lady Harriet had never allowed the prejudices of society to influence her actions even back in Buckinghamshire. She should have known that Harriet would retain that uncompromising attitude even in London. The lady was forthright and kind to a fault and Bessie's blue eyes filled with tears at the memories of home that came flooding over her. "No, my lady, you are not, but truly I must be going." 24
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Observing Bessie's genuine distress, Harriet did not press any further, but she was not about to give up. Something disastrous must have befallen the girl and Harriet was not going to sit idly by when presented with such a situation, not if she could help. "Very well, but we shall talk more. What is Mrs. Lovington's direction?"
Bessie's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh no, my lady, I could never—"
"Very well, then you must call on me. We are in Berkeley Square you know," Harriet replied reasonably. Bessie shook her head sadly.
Lady Harriet's brows snapped together in a mutinous frown. "If you do not provide me with Mrs. Lovington's direction, why then, I shall just have to discover it myself." Worse and worse, Bessie moaned to herself. Even more disastrous than calling at Mrs. Lovington's would be Harriet's revealing her awareness of the existence of such a place in an effort to find her. It was common knowledge in the village of Thornby that Lady Harriet's bright red curls had always meant trouble, and it was proving to be just as true in London as it had been in Buckinghamshire. Bowing to the inevitable, she murmured, "It is in St. James." Bessie blushed vividly. "And it is known as the Temple of Venus." If Harriet was shocked, she certainly did not show it. But then, Bessie reflected. Lady Harriet was never disconcerted by anything.
"Very good," Harriet replied briskly. "And a late morning call would not be an, ahem, inconvenience, I trust." Again Bessie shook her head.
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Having won her point, Harriet smiled warmly at the girl.
"Then you may expect me tomorrow." Not waiting for a reply she turned and made her way back to her anxious family.
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"Harriet, whatever possessed you to accost such a person?" her sister gasped when she had regained the group.
"She is not just a
person,
Elizabeth," Harriet replied firmly.
"That woman is Bessie. I cannot believe that you have become so fine you would have me ignore one of our neighbors."
Lady Elizabeth bit her lip. "No, of course I would not, but neither would I encourage such a public display of friendship for someone who is ... who is..." Lady Elizabeth's gentle countenance was the picture of consternation. "Who is unfortunate," her sister responded dryly.
"I know, I know," Elizabeth moaned, "but must you become involved in everything, Harriet? London is very different from Buckinghamshire. Reputation is everything here and..."
"And we must do nothing to cause distress to Lord Rokeby," her sister finished, not unkindly. "I am aware of that, Lizzie, I truly am, but you would not have me be unkind, would you?"
Lady Elizabeth's soft blue eyes gleamed with unshed tears.
"No, of course I would not, but—"
"Never fear. Lizzie. I shall not do anything that will compromise you in the least, but I must get to the bottom of this. Bessie left Thornby without a word and now suddenly, here she is and it is as plain as the nose on your face that she is not particularly happy about it. Something"—Harriet 27
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pronounced in a voice that informed one and all that it was useless to argue with her—"must be done." Lady Elizabeth abandoned her efforts to save her younger sister from disaster. After all, with Harriet's reckless disregard for the world's opinion, disaster would most certainly befall her sooner or later; it was merely a question of when. At last their carriage pulled up and all discussion of Bessie and her situation was put to an end, but Harriet's busy mind did not stop struggling with the problem of making her way undetected to the Temple of Venus. It was a difficult task, though not insurmountable. Even someone with Harriet's pluck and her fine disregard for conventions would not venture to drive down St. James's. So how was she to get there? She could hardly walk boldly up to the front door even if she did have her maid with her.
Harriet sighed and stared blankly out the window as the carriage made the turn onto the Strand. She supposed she could disguise herself as a maid, and if she wore a bonnet that hid her face ... her thoughts trailed off busy exploring possibilities. A bonnet. Yes, that was it. Suddenly she had a mental picture of a deep-brimmed bonnet worn by the women in the small community of Quakers near them in Buckinghamshire. The pious Quakers were always involving themselves in good works. Surely it was not inconceivable that one would concern herself with the welfare of the young women at the Temple of Venus and the costume would be sufficiently concealing that no one would recognize Lady Harriet Fareham.
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Harriet grinned to herself in the darkness. It might take some doing to create the typical Quaker bonnet, but her maid Rose was a very clever seamstress. Undoubtedly between the two of them they could contrive a suitable costume. One of her old morning dresses would do well enough stripped of its few flounces and with a kerchief covering her neck. It was of a sober dove gray and simple design, plain enough for any Quaker miss once the trimmings were removed. She and Rose would take their carriage to Bond Street as though they were shopping and then send the coachman home. From there they could hire a hackney or walk if need be, donning their distinctive bonnets at the last moment. The chief thing was to enlist Rose's aid.
As Harriet had expected, the maid was naturally averse to a project that would be the instant ruin of her mistress should word of it ever get out, but she was no proof against Harriet's pleas. "Think if it were you. Rose, all alone and unhappy here in London. Would you not wish me to do the same for you?" Rose did not think that she would ever find herself in such a predicament. She had a fair idea what had happened to Bessie Lopcombe and you would never catch Rose Marden allowing any man, young or old, rich or poor to turn her head as Bessie had allowed the squire's son to do. What with her ripe figure and flashing eyes, Bessie had always been one for the men and look what had come of it? However, Rose could not resist Harriet's genuine desire to help, and it did not take long for her mistress to persuade her. After all, the maid reasoned, when Lady Harriet was set on doing a thing, she was set on it and no one could sway her. She would do it 29
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alone if she had to, and Rose's presence would at least keep her mistress from embroiling herself in anything too outrageous.
Having consented to help her mistress. Rose set about it in her customarily efficient way and they soon produced creditable approximations of Quaker garb for both mistress and maid.
In fact, everything proceeded so smoothly that Harriet did not really stop to consider the full implications of her project until she found herself standing one morning on the steps of the Temple of Venus and wondering just what sort of unspeakable things she was going to discover behind the discreetly elegant door. By then, however, it was too late to reconsider. Drawing a deep, steadying breath and squaring her shoulders, she instructed Rose to ring the bell. They waited what seemed to be an interminable length of time before the door at last was opened by a sleepy looking footman who goggled blankly at Harriet's crisp request to see Miss Bessie Lopcombe.
He thought for several minutes—a process that appeared to demand a great deal of work and much frowning on his part—but finally he led them into a small simply furnished sitting room at the back of the house.
Glancing curiously into the ornately furnished rooms as they passed by them, Harriet was rather surprised at the austere appearance of the chamber into which they were ushered. The furniture was comprised of a serviceable-looking desk and two chairs, as well as some bookshelves that looked 30
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to be filled with account books rather than any of the more lurid volumes she expected.
Mistress and maid sat quietly for some minutes not knowing what to expect until at last there was a rustle of silk in the corridor and a tall, handsome, dark-eyed woman, exquisitely attired in a morning dress of French striped silk lavishly trimmed with lace at the neck and wrists, swept into the room.
"How may I help you, ladies?" she inquired in a low, surprisingly cultured voice as she disposed herself gracefully behind the desk.
Considerably taken aback by the elegant bearing of someone she presumed to be the owner of the establishment, Harriet, who had planned to make vociferous demands for Bessie's immediate release, sat silent for a moment before responding. "I believe you have, er, I mean, that an acquaintance of mine, Bessie Lopcombe, ah,
resides
here." The woman on the other side of the desk held herself very still as she subjected her visitors to a scrutiny so intense that Harriet was vividly reminded of unfortunate incidents in her schoolroom days. "And just what is the nature of your, ah, interest in Bessie?"
The tone was discouraging enough to make strong men quake, but Harriet refused to be daunted. Looking her interlocutor straight in the eye she replied firmly, "I am concerned for her welfare. She left Buckinghamshire rather hastily and nothing was heard of her until I discovered her at the opera last evening. Being an acquaintance, I naturally wished to call on her. She gave me her direction and here I 31
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am. Now, I would appreciate your apprising her of my presence."
Mrs. Lovington, or at least Harriet surmised that it must be the Mrs. Lovington Bessie had mentioned, continued to regard her unusual visitor thoughtfully. It was quite obvious that there was no dismissing her. One had only to look at the defiant tilt of the firm little chin to know that. It was equally obvious from the quietly expensive pelisse and bonnet and the proud bearing that she was a lady of quality, but what did she really want with Bessie?
A sly look gleamed in Harriet's eyes. "If you are unwilling to tell her of my visit, then I must assume that she is not here of her own free choice and naturally I shall take steps to insure that she is given that choice." An ironic smile glimmered at this threat before the Temple of Venus's proprietress responded. "No. She is not here of her own choice, but then, none of us is." There was no missing the sarcastic note in her voice. "I see you look surprised. Do you honestly think that any of us would wish to do this if we had any alternative?"
Somewhat taken aback, Harriet stammered, "Why—no, I suppose not, but then I know very little of such things."
