THE MAGIC TOUCH (Historical Romance) (6 page)

It was at that point she decided that if she was not betrothed by the time she was
thirty years old, she would ask Mama and Papa if she could be a governess. It was possible her parents might allow her if she explained it was her deepest desire, even though it was not the done thing for an earl’s daughter. With that happy thought embedded in her mind, Hope raced up the stairs to her rooms. The rest of the afternoon would be spent with Uncle Eustace’s books. Or she might sketch. The result wouldn’t be as wonderful as her mother’s art, of course, but she would try and improve that skill while she was in London.

Thoughts of her uncle had Hope scrabbling
about in the cupboard for her masculine disguise. Uncle Eustace’s clothes weren’t there. Panic set in and her heart beat faster. Then she remembered the clothes hadn’t been put away. Edna had come to the room, neatened her hair, and then Hope had gone down to luncheon. What had become of the clothes? Either Edna had tidied them away or she had returned them to their rightful place.

There were not many hiding places where Edna could have secreted them, but Hope made sure she looked everywhere she could think of. It was to no avail. As Aunt Constance was busy with the maid, Hope could not summon her and she spent a long time pacing the room wishing Edna would walk through the door.

In her mind dressing up as Richard was deeply connected to Beaumont and she couldn’t bear missing any opportunity to see him. As Hope there might be one or two occasions when she could mix with him, but they would be few and far between. She did begin to wonder if she was suffering from a malady as Aunt Constance had suggested, but had no idea what it would be called or how treated. With no sign of Edna, Hope made her way yet again to Uncle Eustace’s rooms. She thought that her aunt and the maid must have finished sorting Uncle Eustace’s clothes by now. No one was in the room, just numerous piles of clothes. She was surprised when Stevenson entered along with one of the male servants.

“Lady Hope
. I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

“It’s all right, Stevenson, I came to see if the task was completed or
not.”

“As you can see my l
ady, these bundles of clothing are being taken now.” He gave a nod to the servant who proceeded to collect up some of the bundles and leave the room with them. “That pile on the floor is the clothing Her Grace thought was unsuitable to pass on.”

“Thank you, Stevenson.” As soon as the
butler had left the room she dived into the bundle and grabbed items one after the other holding them up to see how fitting they were. In her view most were perfectly useable. Having sorted an outfit for Richard she surreptitiously left the room telling herself she was doing nothing wrong. Back in her room she hid the clothes at the bottom of her trunk. Then, to calm herself, she sat at the escritoire and continued with her journal.

I don’t know what has come over me. I have behaved in a most unbecoming way. Scrabbling through clothes regarded as waste. Why did I do it? Because I wish to see Beaumont. If, after my attempt at playing the piano, he never wants to see me again I can at least view him from afar as Richard. What is it about him that makes my pulse quicken and cheeks pinken? I am ridiculous, I hardly know the man. But something, no everything, about him appeals – from his looks to his pursuits. When I next see Edna I will not tell her about the clothes I have taken. We will never speak of me dressing as a man again. But now I will dress as Richard and attempt to escape for a walk in one of the parks.

Hope felt comfortable in the clothes she had found and was pleased to have the watch tucked into the pocket of her waistcoat. It would ensure she was back in plenty of time and would not be missed. As her confidence increased she was able to enjoy all the sights and sounds of the street scenes around her. No longer did she hurry along, keeping her head down. She was certain no one would notice she was not what she seemed.

An enjoyable stroll in the
weakening sunshine along the park’s paths round the pond, gave her a feeling of peace. But on approaching Aunt Constance’s house she was horrified to see Beaumont coming along the street in the opposite direction, clearly making his way to the front entrance. It was an unusual time to be making a social call uninvited. Her jauntiness ebbed and her legs turned to jelly. Looking down at her feet she tried not to falter and attempted to make her way past him without being seen. He stopped.

“Excuse me, it’s Monsieur Richard, n’est pas?”

“Non,” she squeaked, before hurrying towards the side of the building and the back entrance. Once inside she leant against the door and vowed never again to risk going out in gentlemen’s clothes. In her rooms she changed and stuffed the outfit in her trunk promising herself they would be returned to the pile later. Pacing the floor she wondered what had brought Beaumont here to her aunt’s house again, and at such an unusual time to call. Had he realised she was not a man? Worse still, had he realised she was Hope and would he tell her aunt what he had seen? She hardly had time to recover from her confusion when there was a tap on the door. It was Edna bringing a request from Aunt Constance that Hope join her in the
drawing room.

Twisting her hands and breathing shall
owly, Hope asked, “Why does she want me to join her, Edna?”

“Mr Beaumont is here. I
overheard him say he wishes to discuss the magic lantern programme with you. Her Grace told me he wants to hear you play the accompaniment.”

“I can’t possibly.”

“Your aunt will be displeased unless you are poorly.
Are
you ill?” Edna peered at her face.

Hope paused. Could she honestly say she was ill? No, not in a physical sense. What was she to do? Face the consequences of her actions. She
straightened up. “Very well, I will go down.” As she trudged down the stairs, she caught the timbre of Beaumont’s voice and her body responded to it without any encouragement. She breathed deeply as she descended from the bottom stair and entered the drawing room.

“Ah, my dear, we have company. Beaumont would like to discuss
your repertoire and listen to some of your pieces. We will have tea first in spite of it being rather late.” Aunt Constance gave Beaumont a withering look then nodded to the maid standing by the side table ready to serve the tea and delicacies.

Beaumont
conferred a little bow to Hope and waited for her to be seated before he too sat. His eyes twinkled. “Your aunt tells me you have been in your rooms all afternoon. Such a shame you weren’t able to enjoy the fresh air. It is a beautiful day for a walk.”

“Humph. She can hardly go out alone, Beaumont, you know that.”

“It’s a pity for the fairer sex. If she were a man she could do as she pleases.”

He
was making fun of her, Hope was sure. How dare he! She glared at Beaumont and to her horror he winked at her. As her cheeks grew warm, she wondered if her aunt had witnessed the bold gesture. She tried to look away, but Beaumont’s eyes held hers.

As the maid approached, Hope let out the breath she was holding in. Never had tea been more welcome.

“When we have finished our refreshments, Hope, you must play for Beaumont,” said Constance.

The awkward
moment had vanished. Beaumont continued with equable comments until finally he put down his cup and saucer and patted his mouth with a napkin.

Hope perched on the piano stool and fidgeted with a few
pieces of sheet music. Beaumont stood next to her, her eyes level with his waistcoat buttons. “You won’t have seen my magic lantern shows, Hope, will you? Therefore you don’t know the sort of music I need. Let me try and explain.”

Hope kept her eyes on the keys as he did so. Was she imagining the humour in his tone? He was teasing her again.
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask in a whisper if he recognised her as being the young Frenchman, Richard, when he unexpectedly walked to the window and looked out. “Play whatever you wish. We will make a list of the appropriate pieces when you have finished.”

“You will have to excuse me for a moment,” said Aunt Constance. “Carry on with your playing, Hope. I shall return in a short while.” She put her hand to her head and walked from the room.

It didn’t take long for Hope to go through her range of music and she floundered at times. With Beaumont in the same room, she found it hard to concentrate. At last she came to an end and brought down the piano lid with finality. She sat in silence waiting for Beaumont to comment, but he, too, was silent. Unable to endure being in this situation any longer, she burst out, “Why couldn’t you have used your own pianist? She is far more accomplished than I am.”

Beaumont swung round and strode back towards Hope and the piano. “And what do you know of her?”

“I… er, nothing, I…” That was the second time she’d made the same mistake. What was the matter with her?

Beaumont crouched down on the carpet beside Hope and took her hand. “We all have secrets, Hope. But I would like to think you could confide in me if you wish
ed.”

With a nod of her head, she sprang up and distanced herself from him. The touch of his flesh, the rough texture of his jacket and the smell of him put her through an assortment of emotions
that she couldn’t comprehend. Her actions turned out to be well timed as Aunt Constance opened the door that very second and sailed into the room.

“Constance,” said Beaumont, upright
again, “your niece has hidden talents.” Hope refused to look at him. “She has a delightful way of attacking the notes and I’m sure she will be an asset to the programme. Are you all right, Constance? You seem a little distressed.”

“
I think the time spent in Eustace’s rooms this afternoon tired me more than I thought it would. My head aches a little. I bathed my eyes, but I’d like to sit here a while. Why don’t you escort Hope around the garden, Beaumont? She’s still got a pallor about her and you remarked it was a shame for her to have been cooped up in her rooms.”

“An excellent suggestion,” smiled Beaumont. “If Hope is agreeable.”

“I am aware it is not the done thing for my niece to be unchaperoned, but I can think of no alternative with this pain.” Constance clutched her head and closed her eyes. “I’ll get your maid to bring your shawl. It’s fresh outside.”

Hope had no
choice but to obey her aunt. Then she grasped what Edna’s appearance could mean. Oh dear, it was too bad. Why hadn’t she thought about it before and gone to fetch it herself? Edna came into the room and gasped when she caught sight of Beaumont. He came towards her and took the shawl she was holding. “Thank you. I remember you, of course, but I don’t know your name.”

“Really, Beaumont,” chided Constance
, raising her head and frowning at him, “you shouldn’t be so free with the servants.”

He grinned at Edna. “You remind me of someone’s cousin.”

The
fresh air revived Hope a little and she enjoyed the chance to walk in the garden. A short time ago she would have given anything for an opportunity such as this: to be with Beaumont strolling among the flowers and trees in her aunt’s garden But she was in awe of him now as the unexplained secret hung between them. Although she felt unnerved by the situation, he probably did not. Nothing appeared to confound Beaumont. She stole a look at him. He ran his hand along the bark of a tree, tracing its intricate pattern with his fingers. For one flighty moment, she wished to change places with the tree bark. Then he spoke. “Are you coming to the Female Aid Society benefit to please your aunt or are you interested in the work of its members?”

“I wish to know more of
it. Mama sometimes attended meetings, but I never have. I am willing to help anyone less fortunate than I am.” As she spoke, Hope felt enthusiasm coursing through her; the same feeling she’d had when she taught Ruth to read and write and when she contemplated doing the same with Edna. The thought of Edna reminded her of the conversation prior to this walk in the garden. She would not mention it, unless he brought it up. The discussion could continue about the disadvantaged.

“More than anything I should like to
help people learn to read and write. Those two occupations give me such pleasure. I can’t bear to think of anyone not knowing the joy of the written word or of letter writing or composing other works. My dreams are to teach and one day to write a book.” There, it was out in the open. He would surely laugh at her aspirations. When she looked at him, he was gazing at her with a serious expression.

Beaumont took her hand. “Such soft skin, Hope
, and such sweet scent. Rose, isn’t it?” This wasn’t the response Hope had expected, but she couldn’t deny it was agreeable. “Your aims are admirable. I’m sure you will achieve them.”

The moment was broken by the hurried arrival of Edna. “Hope, no I mean my lady,” Edna glanced at Beaumont, “Her Grace told me to come into the garden and tell you it’s time to
go in now.”

“How is she, Edna?” Beaumont asked.

“She has a strong constitution, but I think she has been brought low by thoughts of His Grace.”

“He was a fine man.” Beaumont held out his arm for Hope to take. She hesitated
and glanced at the windows of the house before linking her arm with his. They walked back along the path together, with Edna trailing behind. When they reached the entrance he patted her hand.

“I must leave you
now. It has been most enjoyable spending time in your company. I trust you will be attending the Padstocks’ ball this Saturday. Apparently it is one of the highlights of the season.”

“If Aunt Constance is fully recovered we will be there.”

“Good, I look forward to dancing with you.”

Hope wasn’t sure if she was pleased or not as she watched him
saunter away from them. Surely he should ask her if she wanted to dance with him, not assume that she would. But on the other hand she’d give almost anything to dance with him all evening, something she knew would definitely not be allowed.

* * *

Edna couldn’t contain her anticipation on the day of the ball and skipped around Hope’s room as she helped her get ready. “This gold coloured ball gown is perfect for you, Hope. The line of it does justice to your trim waist and it’s the very latest design. I sometimes see Her Grace’s magazines after she has discarded them and look at the pictures.”

Hope sat at the mirror while Edna styled her hair. “I do think this single flower will look lovely, Hope. Its colour
complements your dress perfectly.”

“What do you think about jewellery? I shouldn’t wear
too much. Do you think the bracelet Mama and Papa gave me before they left would do?”

“Perfectly
. You’re pretty as a picture.”

“But you still think I make a fine gentleman too?” They giggled and chatted until they were satisfied
with Hope’s appearance.

“Ah, good, I wondered when you would be ready. We should be leaving now.”

Hope had found her aunt looking rather wan sitting in the drawing room and gazing out of the window. “Are you all right, Aunt? If you don’t feel up to going I am quite happy to stay here with you.”

“We’re going. James Henderson will be there and I think he will be asking you for
more dances than is acceptable!”

Hope wasn’t sure if her aunt found that
prospect good or bad.

“I have every wish that you and he will grow to like each other over the next few weeks and this ball is a
chance for you to talk at least a little. I must remind you, however, that you should not dance too often with any one man. Maybe James will escort us to the refreshment room. Now send for our cloaks and we will set off.”

As they entered the
Padstocks’ mansion butterflies cavorted in Hope’s stomach. She didn’t want to dance with James Henderson, she wanted to dance with Beaumont and find out more about him. But she would have to be careful. There were always watchful eyes and word soon went round if anyone discredited themselves. The ballroom itself was alive with activity.

Her aunt nudged her. “Look, he’s there.” She pointed her fan in the direction of James. “He’ll be over soon
to ask for the next dance, I’m sure of it.”

Hope wasn’t concerned. James appeared to be looking
in the direction of Isabella Padstock who was laughing coquettishly with yet another handsome young man. As Hope glanced round the room she spotted Beaumont standing alone, deep in thought. She took a deep breath. He had to be the most handsome man in the room. His black dress-coat, waistcoat and white shirt set off his features to perfection. His beard was neatly trimmed and his hair dark and glossy. Just at that moment he looked up and their eyes met.

“Hope, Hope, dear, do pay attention. James is heading our way.”

The Honourable James Henderson duly stopped in front of then, bowing first respectfully to Constance and then to Hope. “Will you favour me with your hand for the next dance?” he asked.

“With pleasure, sir,” Hope replied dutifully, handing over her card for him to
inscribe his name.

As James stepped away Beaumont
arrived.

“Good
evening, Constance, Hope.” He inclined his head slightly to each of them in turn. “Would you dance with me?”

Hope could barely speak. H
ow she wished she could have his name on her card for all the dances. “I regret I am engaged for the next dance, sir, but the one after that… well…” She was lost for words.

“Hope! Here, Beaumont take her
card and put your name down. She is inclined to giddiness. Not one of her best traits. But she is young, far younger than I and quite a few years younger than you.”

Beaumont
raised his eyebrows. “I believe Eustace was somewhat older than you, Constance. I am quite sure your love for each other was as strong as if you had been of similar ages.”

Love! How had love
come into the conversation? Hope looked from her aunt to Beaumont and back to her aunt again.

“Indeed Beaumont. This is quite the most
inappropriate conversation for the occasion. Thankfully here comes James.”

James
led Hope onto the dance floor and the quadrille began. Hope liked dancing and was soon enjoying herself, but was aware of Beaumont standing watching her, his eyes on her every move. It was quite disconcerting. When the dance ended James led her back to the seat next to her aunt, thanked her, bowed politely and left. Beaumont was soon back, a grin on his face. “My turn I believe.”

“Really Beaumont, your manners are
...”

“I apologise, but this young lady dances like an
angel and I can’t wait to whisk her round the ballroom.”

“Be warned. I
will be watching, along with all the other mothers and aunts in the room.” Hope couldn’t be sure, but there seemed to be a twinkle in her aunt’s eye.

All other thoughts soon disappeared from Hope’s mind as Beaumont’s arm encircled her waist and she felt the warm
th of his hand through the light material of her gown. When their hands met, she feared she’d have the vapours and she had to hang on tightly to him. Secretly, she was pleased to have the excuse to do so. Not that he was a stabilising influence on her at all. The jaunty polka music had its effect and Beaumont skilfully whisked her across the ballroom; it was as if they were the only two in the whole room. Risking a glance at him as they twirled around, Hope’s eyes met his and he tightened his hold on her, pulling her closer to him. If only this could go on forever. But then the music stopped and partners separated.

Beaumont escorted Hope to Aunt Constance who was in conversation with Isabella Padstock. Could it be possible that Beaumont would ask her for another dance, pondered Hope. She willed him to read her
mind. He leant towards her and she was sure he had. “Thank you, Hope. You’re a splendid dancer as I said. I would ask you for the next dance, but I am promised to another.”

Hope wondered if he would be dancing with Isabella.
Lady Padstock wouldn’t be pleased, she reflected. But after acknowledging Isabella, Beaumont extended his hand towards her aunt. “Our dance I think, Constance. I’m looking forward to it. The young people quite tire me.” He inclined his head to Hope and winked. As Beaumont led Constance away, Hope heard him saying, “I’m pleased you feel able to take a stage out of mourning. What a very pretty sash that is.”

To Hope’s surprise, she saw that her aunt was a more than capable dancer. She watched as Beaumont expertly guided his par
tner around to the waltz music.

“I see you danced with James.” Isabella’s voice took Hope by surprise;
she’d forgotten she was there.

“Yes,” she said, dragging her eyes from the dance floor. “He’s a competent partner.” It was all she could think of to say about him.

“He’s divine,” breathed Isabella. “He’s written his name in for the maximum number of allowed dances.”

Hope
was relieved that Isabella and The Honourable James Henderson were getting on well together. “It’s a wonderful evening, Isabella. I’m especially pleased to see Aunt Constance enjoying herself as much as she is.”

A queue of young gentlemen approached the two women
and asked for their dance cards. Hope’s was filling rapidly and she wanted there to be room for Beaumont’s name. How many dances were they allowed together? She couldn’t remember, but she knew her aunt would and she would also check to make sure etiquette prevailed.

Suddenly there was a commotion on the dance floor and Hope looked up to see Beaumont with his arm around Aunt Constance. James was on the other side
as they half-carried her to the edge of the ballroom and sat her gently into a chair. Lady Padstock attended immediately and directed the dancing to continue.

A screen was placed strategically to
provide her with privacy and Constance put a hand to her head. “Aunt,” whispered Hope, “how can I help? Has your headache returned?” Constance nodded and looked tearful.

“Drink this,” directed Beaumont, holding out a glass of
brandy. “I think you exerted yourself too much.”

He treated
the patient with such kindness Hope was near tears. Much as she hated to admit it, she realised her aunt should be taken home without delay. When she voiced her opinion, both Constance and Beaumont agreed. “I’ll get your carriage brought round to the closest entrance,” said Beaumont.

“Poor Constance,” whispered Lady Padstock. “It was
a great pleasure for us that you should come this evening with your dear niece. But now you must return home and rest.”

Beaumont and Hope help
ed Constance to the carriage. Beaumont tucked a rug around her. “I wish you a restful night, Constance.” Holding out his hand to aid Hope into the carriage, her heart fluttered as he drew nearer and she was sure he was about to kiss her. If she acted instinctively, she would move forward and instigate an embrace; if she followed the line of propriety, she’d back away that instant. In the event, she did neither. Beaumont raised her hand to his lips and caressed it before letting go. Hope ducked into the carriage, sure her hammering heartbeat must be audible.

By the time they arrived at the house, Constance appeared a litt
le brighter, but still exhausted.

With Aunt Constance safely in
doors, Hope left her to the ministrations of the servants. Perhaps the doctor should be called in the morning. As Hope readied herself for bed, she was lost in a dream of what might have been if her dance card had been filled with Beaumont’s name and, more excitingly, if she and he had been alone outside the Padstocks’ mansion with the carriage as their refuge.