The Unaccomplished Lady Eleanor (31 page)

Eleanor’s eyes filled
w
ith tears when Milly handed her the carved box.
  ‘
It’s a present, miss,
’
she said proudly. 
‘
From
all of us - for the picnic
.  Our Ed made it – it was his idea.
’

‘
Oh, Milly,
’
gushe
d Eleanor, throwing her arms around
t
he
girl
,
‘
there is no need for any of you to go to any trouble on my behalf.
The picnic was the least I could do.
’

‘
N
ot according to our Ed, miss.  He thinks you’re a right one.  Never seen the young ones as happy as that day the
y went home and all those
rats had gone.  Not a trace of them anywhere.  Like a little palace it was.
’

‘
Yes, Mickey did us all proud,
’
agreed Eleanor. 
‘
I
paid him for his trouble yesterday.  And I
took some cheese and ham
and
some biscuits for the children.
’

‘
Oh
, miss,
’
beamed
Milly. 
‘
You ain’t half a one.
’

Eleanor returned the smile with one of her own. 
‘
Tell me, Milly,
’
she
enquire
d, h
er voice lilting with amusement,
‘
i
s being
“half a one”
better than being a full one?
’

‘
Cor, miss,
’
puzzled Milly
, scratching her fair head. 
‘
Now you’re asking.
’

As devastated as she was to see her father leave, Eleanor put on a brave face.  She had wanted desperately to ask if she could travel home with him, but she had known
all too well
what Hester’s reply would have been.
Instead, she had bitten her lip and not shed a single tear until she was in the privacy of her own rooms.

Regardless of
Eleanor’s low spirits
, the tiresome unrelenting round of social events continued.  That evening they were all invited to Lady
Illingsworth
’s musical
soiré
e
. Eleanor
remained un
convinced that
attending the occasion would be,
as Milly had put it,
‘
b
etter than moping round the house
’
.

Lady Ormiston, though
, was in no mood for excuses and so, dressed in another of her new evening gowns – a
flattering, high-waisted creation
of purple-blue satin, Eleanor arrived at th
e Illingsworth
s
’
Grosvenor Square
mansion, accompanied by her godmother
, James,
Madel
e
ine and
the odious Derek Lovell. 

Lord and Lady Illingsworth
were two of the most enormous people Eleanor had ever set eyes upon
.  Evident
ly h
aving a
high opinion of their own importance, the
ir attire w
as
more regal than that worn by the
K
i
ng and
Q
ueen.  Once
greetings had been exc
hanged, the party made their way into the music
-
room, which was crammed with an astonishing array of ornaments, all
undoubtedly i
ntended to demonstrate the family’s evident great wealth.
Eleanor’s eyes
bobbed
around the room, already milling with bodi
es.  She recogniz
ed almost all of the faces
: the
same boring souls with their dreary topics of conversation a
nd predictable witticisms. 
She really was feeling so out of sorts that she couldn’t even pretend to be interested. 
S
he
spott
ed the Duke and Duchess of Swinton talking to Lord and Lady Stannington. 
Then, continuing her scan, h
er eyes suddenly met a pair of insipid blue ones, glaring at her menacingly – Felicity Carmichael.  Eleanor’s heart skipped a beat and she quickly averted her gaze. 
Felicity and h
er mother were over the other side of the room, deep in conversation with Lady Lydia Armstrong – a renowned gossip.  Eleanor hoped desperately that there would be no time for the pair to wind their way over to her party before the performances began.  Thankfully there was
no
t and
,
as the performances were announced, it was with a sigh of relief that Eleanor took her seat on one of the rows of blue
gilt chairs, which had been laid
out
before the pianoforte.  She found herself
sandwiched between her godmother and James
.  She slanted a glance at him.  He looked as though
he would rather be anywhere
other than the musical soir
ée or, more likely, anywhere where
Felicity Carmichael
was not
.  The same dark, angry expression he
had borne for the last few days
was still very much in evidence.  Madeleine
, meanwhile
, was, as usual, oblivious to anyone’s needs but her own.

‘
James, darling,
’
she purred, just as they had taken
t
he
i
r seats – Eleanor on James’s right and Madeleine on his left
-
‘
I
am
thirsty. 
Would you be a dear and bring me a glass of champagne?
’

James didn’t
look at her. 
‘
The performance is about to start, Madeleine,
’
he replied impatiently.

‘
Oh, but I am so thirsty, I shall
die
if I do not
have my champagne.’

‘
For God’s sake, Madeleine,
’
snapped
James,
‘
I am
not
going to get you a
ny champagne.  Now kindly be quiet
!
’

Madeleine gasped
at James’s outburst, which had been so loud, it had caused two rows of inquisitive, scandal-
seeking heads to swing
around.

Not wishing to create eve
n more of a spectacle
,
M
adeleine stuck out her bottom lip and folded her arms across her chest.  Eleanor
resist
ed a giggle.  Perhaps, she thought, the
Illingsworth
s’
soiré
e might
not
b
e so boring after all.

Eleanor’s optimism proved short-lived.  She had endured a painful piece by Haydn played by a gentleman so old and frail she was afraid he might collapse at any point, and an Italian piece
s
ung by a spotty young girl who was
so nervous
she
was
perspir
ing
profusely. 
So jaded was Eleanor
that a
t one stage she lost the fight with her eyelids and had nodded off only to w
ake
b
y James nudging her in the ribs. 
She was grateful when the interval was called and th
ey made their way to the supper-
room
.  T
he gargantuan
feast lai
d
out
there
provid
ed
a hefty clue as to how the
Illingsworth
s had acquired their bulk.

‘
Good evening, Lady Ormiston,
’
came
a high-pitched male voice, just as
Eleanor reached for
a lobster patty. 

‘
Ah, Viscount Grayson,
’
gushe
d the
d
owager
,
spinning around
to face the young man. 
‘
How very splendid. 
Eleanor was so hoping you would be her
e this evening, weren’t you,
dear?
’
She glared imploringly at her goddaughter
.

Eleanor steeled herself
before
turn
ing
around to
face the man
. 
‘
G
ood evening, Viscount,
’
she said, her tone
and expression
completely neutral as she dipped a curtsy.

‘
Lady Eleanor,
’
he
leered
, a
lmost salivating as he drank in the low cut of her dress. 
‘
May I ask if you are enjoying the performances this evening?
’

Eleanor looked at him blankly. 
‘
I must confess, sir,
I have never
spent an evening quite like it.
’

A snor
t of laughter, transformed hasti
ly into a cough, came from behind her.  She
spun
around to find
Ja
mes
there
. He and the v
iscount exchanged pleasantries.

‘
I trust, sir,
’
squeaked the v
iscount,
‘
that you have had no more trouble with thieves at Whitlock following the incident with our carriage?
’

James adopted a very serious countenance. 
‘
Thankfully
we have not
. 
I
t would appear
, Viscount,
that the i
ncident with your carriage
was quite …
unique
.
’

Just at that moment, the butler appeared.
 
He held out a silver platter to James. 
‘
Excuse me, my lord,
but an urgent note has just been delivered for you.
’

‘
For me?
 
Who on earth-?
’

James
retrieved the envelope
from the tray and tore it open. 
Unfolding the
note,
he read the contents, the furrows on his
forehead deepening
.

‘
I’m
afraid,
’
he said, refolding the paper and
slipping it into his
pocket,
‘
that you will have
to excuse me.  I have a little …
personal matter
to attend to.
’

The
d
owager
shook her head
.
‘
Hmph,
I think the least we ladies know of your
personal matters
, James, the better, don’t you?
’

James appeared not to have heard his aunt’s
comment
. 
Looking in equal part both worried and
puzzled
, he
took his leave of them
.  

While the
d
owager
continued her
muttering
s
about young men today, Eleanor observe
d
the oth
er guests
.
 
Felicity Carmichael and her mother, both with plates piled high with food,
were chatting to
Lord Kennilworth; the Duke and D
uchess of Swinton formed part of a group from which
regular
bursts
of laughter were forthcoming;
Lord
Illingsworth
had cornered
pretty
Penelope Hartly, who looked desperate to escape his overpowering attentions
;
while
Lady
Illingsworth
appeared to be
having a similar effect on a short young man
who looked as though he were
about to be suffocated by the woman’s
enormous bosom
levelled exactly with
his head.