The Belle Dames Club (10 page)

‘An abolitionist meeting, in Holborn?’ Lady Sarah laughed. ‘And I thought you could not possibly get up to any mischief tonight!’

‘It is not mischief,’ objected Lady Wyckenham. ‘We are to attend a serious lecture.’

‘Then, of course, I shall come with you!’ was the prompt reply. ‘I was afraid you would find my little evening very poor fare. The Belles Dames Club has been so adventurous recently that
I wanted Toby to go to Newgate and find me a notorious highwayman to read for us tonight, but he would not hear of it.’

‘Fie on you, Sally, to think we cannot enjoy a quiet evening of refinement.’

‘Well, that’s why I invited Mr Henderson to come and read for us – he has made Mr Cowper’s comic poem
John Gilpin
all the rage you know, and has promised to perform it for us at the end of the evening. But it was Sir Toby who insisted on inviting the Medways, to lend a little gravitas to the event. Which they do: their dowdy colours make me feel positively gaudy, and I made such
efforts
to look serious tonight!’

Clarissa looked at Lady Sarah’s olive-green gown and the snowy fichu around her shoulders. On any other lady the plain muslin with its long sleeves and white ruffles would have looked eminently sensible, but it merely enhanced Sarah’s flaming hair and sparkling eyes. It was easy to understand why staid Sir Toby doted upon his lovely wife.

The guests seemed in no hurry to settle down for more poetry and Clarissa accompanied Lady Wyckenham around the room, meeting acquaintances and wondering idly if Lord Alresford was enjoying his supper when Mama-Nell’s voice suddenly caught her attention.

‘Clarissa, my love, here is Lord Ullenwood come to speak to us.’

Her head snapped round. The marquis held out his long white fingers and she gave him her hand, which he raised to his lips with practised ease. Clarissa studied more closely this man who was persecuting Mama-Nell. On their first meeting she had thought him much older, but now realized that despite the silver threads lacing through his thick, dark hair he was not yet above forty. His lean, handsome face was definitely attractive but she imagined that the mobile mouth could twist into a sneer as easily as a smile. There was a world-weariness about him, a languid manner that she felt sure was assumed.

‘Lord Ullenwood.’ Her tone was cool, for she was prepared to
dislike him and it came as something of a shock to realize the man’s charm when he wished to use it; she was drawn to his deep, deep brown eyes.

‘Delighted to meet you again, Miss Wyckenham.’

She put up her chin.

‘I have learned a great deal about you since our last meeting, my lord.’

‘Indeed?’ Those dark eyes gleamed with amusement. ‘Nothing too infamous, I hope.’

‘Merely the truth, sir.’

Lady Wyckenham gave an audible gasp and rushed into speech.

‘I-I did not think you a lover of poetry, Lord Ullenwood. You have missed the majority of the readings.’

He turned towards her.

‘Yes, I did not realize it was so late. But no matter. I came here solely to see you, madam.’

Lady Wyckenham fanned herself vigorously.

‘You flatter me, sir.’

‘No, I merely wanted to remind you that we have a little matter of – ah – unfinished business to discuss.’

‘My, my, Lord Ullenwood, how mysterious you make it sound,’ remarked Clarissa.

He looked at her.

‘And what do you know of the matter, Miss Wyckenham?’

Clarissa returned his gaze steadily, her own dark eyes challenging.

‘I know enough to tell you that my stepmama is not one to be bullied, sir.’

‘Cl-Clarissa you mistake,’ muttered Lady Wyckenham.

‘Indeed you do, Miss Wyckenham. I have no intention of – ah – bullying anyone. Merely I am anxious to resolve our
differences
.’ The marquis smiled. ‘As Lady Wyckenham observed, I do not often attend these soirées, but upon occasion I have even been known to read something of my own. When the spirit
moves me, I can be persuaded. My own inclination runs towards the sonnets, or … love letters.’

Lady Wyckenham paled. She gripped Clarissa’s arm.

‘You would not!’

Clarissa felt the breath catch in her throat as she looked from her stepmother to the marquis. Their eyes were locked: Mama-Nell’s imploring, Lord Ullenwood’s implacable.

‘No,’ he said at last. ‘I would not … tonight.’ He bowed. ‘Come, ma’am. Let us not quarrel. I am here to tell you that I am planning to leave town shortly. We will need to resolve our … little problem before then.’

With a smile and a bow he walked away and Lady Wyckenham gave a shuddering sigh.

‘You heard him, Clarissa. He wants an answer.’

‘And that answer must be no, Mama-Nell. We shall wrest the letters from him!’

‘But how?’

‘I don’t know: I must consult Lady Gaunt. After all she found a solution to Julia Norwell’s problem.’

‘But Lord Ullenwood is no Sir Howard. He is a much more dangerous adversary.’

‘Then we must be much more clever,’ retorted Clarissa. She patted the small hand still gripping her arm. ‘You must not worry, Mama-Nell. We shall come about, you’ll see.’

Having decided to admit the members of the Belles Dames Club into her confidence, Lady Wyckenham was anxious to call a meeting, but it was a full week before they could convene. In
the meantime she showed no sign of her anxiety as she went about her daily business. She drove out with Sir Robert, went to the theatre with Clarissa and spent a few hours each day in her attic studio, working on the two plant specimens Sir Robert had given her to paint. At such times she found she could forget for a while the threat hanging over her.

She saw Lord Ullenwood only once, at a masquerade. The
variety
of costumes and disguises prevented her from recognizing the Marquis until she was going down the line with him in a country dance.

‘I know you,’ he said, following the accepted mode of address. ‘You look enchanting tonight, my lady. What are you – Queen Mab?’ His eyes raked over her green silk with its overdress of gossamer gauze.

‘Titania,’ she answered, recovering from the shock of
recognition
. The marquis was dressed as a pirate, complete with a full-bottomed wig and a leather eye-patch. Very appropriate, she thought bitterly, but as the dance separated them at that moment she had no opportunity to tell him so. He came to find her shortly after, and insisted on escorting her down to supper.

Clarissa watched her stepmother leaving the room and did not doubt the identity of her piratical companion. Lord Ullenwood’s behaviour roused her indignation but she admitted to herself that there was little to be done until the letters had been retrieved. A voice at her side recalled her attention.

‘Do I know you, madam?’

She looked round to find Sir Robert Ingleton at her side, easily recognizable despite his disguise.

‘Well, sir, do you know me?’ she asked, watching him through the slits in her own golden mask.

He gave her his charming, crooked grin.

‘Indeed I do, Miss Wyckenham, but what is this? You are dressed as a goddess, yet your countenance suggests you are
about to demand a human sacrifice.’

She chuckled.

‘Was I frowning so direfully, Sir Robert? My thoughts were many miles away. And I am one of the Muses, you see.’ She pointed to the golden lyres embroidered on the skirts of her robe. She cast an admiring glance at his costume. ‘And what are you – Sir Frances Drake? How appropriate.’

‘I thought so. But you are evading my question: will you not tell me what caused such a frown to crease your brow?’

Despite her stepmama’s outright refusal to involve him, Clarissa was tempted to tell him of Lady Wyckenham’s letters – but only for a moment. Instead, she said, ‘I wish it was you taking Mama-Nell down to supper! She has gone off on the arm of Lord Ullenwood.’

Sir Robert spread his hands.

‘Alas, my lady refused me. Having danced twice together she did not want to attract attention.’

‘Oh I am sorry: yet I know she likes you above all others.’

‘Thank you. I wish I could believe that.’

She put out her hand.

‘It is true. Perhaps she is a little unsure of her own heart, but no one seeing you together could doubt that she adores you.’

‘Do you really think so?’

‘Yes, truly.’ She sighed. ‘I think you should ride up one day and whisk her away.’

‘Much as I would like to do so, I fear such behaviour would be frowned upon in our civilized times.’ He glanced over his
shoulder
. ‘Ah, I see I am about to be ousted by an eastern caliph!’

Clarissa saw Lord Alresford approaching, dressed in an exotic eastern costume. He bowed stiffly.

‘Excuse me. I came, Miss Wyckenham, to beg the honour of the next dance with you, if you are not engaged?’

‘And I am very much in the way, am I not?’ said Sir Robert. ‘I shall away to sail the seven seas!’ With a wicked grin and a wink at Clarissa he sauntered off.

Lord Alresford stood looking down at her, and Clarissa sought for something to break the uncomfortable silence.

‘I did not expect to see you here, my lord.’

‘Lady Norwell persuaded me to come – Barnabus is here too, with his wife,’ he added, before she could ask him the question. ‘They are dancing together at this moment.’

‘I am glad.’ She glanced at his costume. ‘An eastern
potentate
, my lord?’

‘It was Lady Norwell’s idea. She refused to let me wear a domino.’ He smiled at her and for one heart-stopping moment Clarissa remembered their meeting in the wood, when he had opened his eyes and looked at her. She found herself smiling back, quite forgetting everything else until he held out his arm.

‘The next dance is about to start, Miss Wyckenham. Shall we?’

The spell was broken. She was back in the ballroom.

‘Of course, my lord. Though I fear we shall make an odd couple.’

The earl took his place opposite her, bowing as the music began.

‘Are we really so far apart, Miss Wyckenham?’

They circled, bowed, turned, passed, clasped hands, came together and moved apart. Clarissa had never experienced such a dance. Perhaps it was the exotic costumes, but each touch of the earl’s ungloved fingers sent a tingle running through her skin. Her senses were heightened: she was vividly aware of every note played, every step danced. The garish colours of her partner’s dress dazzled her: she heard the
laughter
around her but she found herself speechless, and danced in silence with her partner. Never had a country dance seemed so long, yet when the music stopped she felt it was too soon.

‘Have you eaten, Miss Wyckenham, may I escort you to supper?’

She nodded, wanting to prolong these new sensations for as long as she could.

‘I – um,’ she swallowed and tried again. ‘Will you be joining Lady Norwell’s party next week, my lord? I believe – that is, Julia told me – she is engaged to attend Lady Maramond’s rout on Tuesday.’

She had to repeat her question, for the earl seemed distracted.

‘Lady Maramond? I-I am not sure – yes, I think … will you be there?’

‘Lady Wyckenham intends to go, sir, and I shall accompany her.’

‘Then, yes, I shall be there.’ He looked round. ‘Barnabus is calling, they want us to join them – do you object?’

As he led her over to Lady Norwell’s table Clarissa did not know whether to be glad or sorry: she felt bewildered by the emotions raging within her. However, the necessity of making polite conversation with Julia and Lady Norwell proved
calming
and when Lord Alresford returned her to the ballroom she had regained much of her serene manner, and her fingers
trembled
only a little as his lips brushed across them.

A grey dawn was breaking when Lady Wyckenham’s carriage made its way back to Charlotte Street and, as they rattled over the cobbles, Mama-Nell apologized to Clarissa for leaving her alone for most of the evening. Clarissa was quick to respond.

‘Pray do not make yourself uneasy, ma’am,’ she said ‘There were so many friends and acquaintances present that I was never lonely, I assure you.’

‘I know, my love, but much as I adore masquerades I am well aware that many use it as an excuse to behave with
impropriety
.’

Thinking of her dance with Lord Alresford, Clarissa realized how easily she could have been led into impropriety herself, had the gentleman been willing. She found herself sighing.

‘I was never subjected to anything of that nature, Mama-Nell.’

‘It was not what I had planned,’ continued my lady fretfully, ‘but Lord Ullenwood monopolized me for so much of the evening.’

‘I saw him take you down to supper.’

Lady Wyckenham shuddered.

‘I did not wish it; indeed, I would have refused him, but—’

‘I know, Mama-Nell. The letters.’ Clarissa hesitated, then said slowly, ‘I talked with Sir Robert Ingleton this evening: I wanted so much to tell him about the marquis.’

‘Clarissa, you did not!’

‘No, Mama-Nell, but I feel sure if he knew—’

‘If he knew he would despise me!’ cried Lady Wyckenham. ‘I could not bear that.’

‘Then you
do
care for him.’

For several moments there was silence.

‘Yes, I do,’ whispered Lady Wyckenham at last. ‘But until those letters are destroyed I will not tell him so.’

‘But he might be able to help you.’

‘Really, Clarissa. I am no blushing maiden, begging to be rescued from every little predicament.’

‘This is hardly a
little predicament
, Mama-Nell.’

‘All the more reason not to involve Sir Robert,’ retorted my lady. ‘I am a grown woman, and will extricate myself from this mess – with the help of my friends, of course.’

When the ladies of the Belles Dames Club met again it was at Lady Gaunt’s house in Grosvenor Square, the Viscountess declaring that she was far too fatigued to put on a mask again
that week and that everyone should come to her.

Lady Wyckenham and Clarissa duly arrived at the Gaunt mansion, suitably enveloped from head to toe in their dominos. They were shown into the drawing-room by Grantham, and Clarissa immediately noticed that their hostess’s little black page was missing. When she enquired, Lady Gaunt merely smiled.

‘Samuel? I have sent him up to bed. The novelty wears off, you see, as with anything.’ She directed a lively glance at Clarissa. ‘Besides, young Grantham is so much more useful, don’t you think? He has adapted very well to his – ah – duties. Of course, I do not let him clean the silver. It makes the hands so terribly rough, I understand.’

Clarissa laughed.

‘Dorothea, you are incorrigible. What will the Viscount say when he finds out?’

‘Oh when he returns to town I shall send Grantham off to make his way in the world: just now he is accumulating a nice little sum towards his – ah – retirement.’ She broke off as more members of the club arrived and as soon as they were all assembled, she dismissed the servants and the ladies divested themselves of their masks with a collective sigh of relief.

Clarissa lost no time in explaining the reason for the
meeting
. As she had expected, the ladies were all eager to help Lady Wyckenham, but not one of them could offer a way to recover the letters. Lady Gaunt’s heavy lids drooped as she pondered the problem.

‘Ullenwood is not unattractive,’ she mused. ‘Perhaps I should seduce him.’

Julia stared at her with wide-eyed innocence.

‘Would he give you the letters?’

Lady Gaunt shrugged her white shoulders and said wickedly, ‘I have no idea.’

The ladies laughed, but Alicia Greynard’s little hand formed itself into a fist and she banged on the arm of her chair.

‘The man is wholly unprincipled,’ she said fiercely. ‘He should be punished for putting poor Helen through this torment. If I had my way I’d – I’d rip out his tongue!’

‘That is hardly the way to make him tell you where the letters are,’ retorted Letitia Leighton-Kettering ‘Come, ladies, let us be sensible. He told Helen his letters were in a bank vault: do we know his bankers?’

Lady Wyckenham blinked at her.

‘Heavens, Letitia, do you mean to break in and steal my letters?’

‘Of course not, my dear, but between us we might know someone within the bank, a nephew, perhaps, or a relative of one of our servants?’

Sally Matlock nodded.

‘That is very good, Letitia. We must discover which bank he uses.’

‘And how do we do that?’ demanded Lady Wyckenham. ‘Surely you do not expect me to ask him?’

‘No, no, Helen,’ said Letitia. ‘I think that we should ask our menfolk. No need to tell them why we want to know.’

‘I will ask Barnabus,’ said Julia, ‘but he is not of Lord Ullenwood’s set.’

‘Neither is Toby,’ said Lady Sarah, ‘but perhaps if I am very nice to him he would ask his friends – discreetly, of course.’

Lady Gaunt nodded.

‘Very well. We will try to discover his bank.’

Mrs Flooke had been pondering the problem, and now she said, ‘Even if we could find his vault, I do not see how we could get into it, not without breaking the law.’

A despondent silence filled the room.

‘Well,’ said Lady Gaunt at last, ‘first let us see what we can discover. After all, it is the only plan we have at the moment.’

‘There is another way,’ said Lady Wyckenham unhappily. ‘I could agree to his terms.’

This brought such a vehement chorus of disagreement that
my lady threw up her hands. ‘But I do not have much time: I have to give him an answer before the end of the month!’

Lady Gaunt nodded. ‘We must move quickly. We will all be at Augusta’s rout on Tuesday: we will meet there to report our progress.’

The meeting broke up early, the ladies promising to make what enquiries they could concerning Lord Ullenwood. They all left Grosvenor Square in reflective mood but Clarissa at least refused to be downhearted.

‘We will come about, Mama-Nell, you will see,’ she said stoutly. ‘The ladies of the Belles Dames Club will not allow one man to defeat them.’

Across the darkened carriage she heard her stepmama’s tinkling laugh and hoped that she had raised her spirits at least a little.

They did not speak again until the carriage pulled up in Charlotte Street, but when they walked into the hall, Lady Wyckenham looked about her in bewilderment at the
unaccustomed
activity. Two footmen were heaving a large trunk up the stairs and the butler was giving instructions to a third for the disposal of the various small bags and boxes that littered the hall.

‘Simmons, what on earth is happening?’

‘Lord Wyckenham has arrived, ma’am.’

‘William, here?’ squeaked my lady.

Simmons allowed himself a rare, fatherly smile.

‘Indeed, ma’am. He arrived not five minutes since. He is in the drawing-room, madam.’

Lady Wyckenham stared at Clarissa.

‘Now what on earth can have brought your brother to town?’

‘I have no idea, Mama-Nell, but I will go to him immediately.’

‘Yes, do,’ said my lady, accompanying her up the stairs. ‘I shall speak to Mrs Simmons, to make sure the best
bedchamber 
is prepared for him. Make my excuses, Clarissa, and tell William I shall join you both directly.’