The Unaccomplished Lady Eleanor (7 page)

‘
Now, Milly, you don’t have to resort to flattery,
’
chuckled Eleanor. 
‘
But I do believe, between the two of us, we can keep you occupied.  What do you think?
’

‘
What do I think?
 
Why
,
I think, miss, we two are go
ing to rub along just grand
.
’
  Then, in an endearing gesture, which completely caught Eleanor off guard, Milly flung
her arms around her
and hugged her tightly.

Despite the
weather, which
continued
the
gloomy theme it had established the previous day, Eleanor found herself in much brighter spirits in Milly’s effervescent, chattering presence.  She was also delighted with the view fro
m her room which had been reveal
ed in all its splendour the moment Milly had flung open the
shutters.  D
ev
oid of any bearings within the c
astle, Eleanor was surprised to discover that her rooms were located in the original part of the building
,
looking out on
to the
expanse of lawn at the front,
which was
divided
into two equal halves
by the long gravelled drive along which sh
e had travelled only a few
hours earlier. 

T
he location of her rooms
,
though,
was not the only thing to surprise he
r.  Milly
had set about attempting to tame Eleanor’s abundance of thick hair which, in the shameful absence of either brush or comb the previous day, combined with a fitful night
’s sleep, had resulted in a
daunting tangle.   In no time at
all
, the girl had brushed, twisted, curled and pinned her shiny mane into a sophisticated and fashionable chignon,
at which even Eleanor
, having normally not the slightest interest in such things,
was
both
amazed
and delighted
.     
             

Her high sp
irits
lasted only until
s
he located the
light,
pale-
gold
,
stylish breakfast
-
room - courtesy of Milly’s excellent directions – to find her godmot
her awaiting her.  The old lady
was seated in front of the row of leaded windows at a c
ircular table, around which stood
eight Hepplewhite chairs. The table was overlaid with a dazzling white cloth and set with white china and gleaming silver cutlery.  A splash o
f colour was provided by an
arrangement of fresh spring flowers crammed into a round vase.  Another mahogany sideboard stood alongside the wall to the right of the room on which were laid out a number of hot and cold dishes, some covered with shining silver domes. 

‘
Ah, Eleanor,
’
said the
dowager
, putting down
t
he
newspaper
she had been reading
and removing her eye-glass. 
‘
At last.  I’ve been waiting to have a word with you, my girl.
’

Eleanor quailed
inwardly
at the older woman’s ominous tone. 
‘
G
ood
, er,
morning, Godmother,
’
she
stammer
ed, as she approached the table. 
‘
May I
ask
what it is you wish to speak to
me about?
’

‘
Indeed you may,
’
replied the
dowager
,
as Eleanor lowered herself into the chair held out by Stevens. 
‘
I wish to speak to you
about your plans
.  Given that we are already well into the Season, we have frighteningly little time in which to find
a
man to take you.  At the end of June anyone of any consequence will have fled London in search of a much healthier climate.  It is therefore imperative that we waste no
t a moment in our search for
a husband.
’
 

A wave of dread
wash
ed over Eleanor
as she shook out her napkin
. 
‘
But
,
Godmother, I really must insist that I do not-
’

‘
And I will hear no more ridiculous protestations about marriage,
’
i
nterjected Lady Ormiston
briskly
, motioning to Stevens to refill her coffee cup. 
‘
It is
simply the done thing, Eleanor
, and
whether you wish to or not, one has to abide by the done thing.  Granted, there are some
departments
of the institution which are … shall we say … a little
messy
and … well … damned
tiresome
at times
…
’

Whilst Eleanor
knew
little of such matters, there was no doubt
as
to which
departments
the
dowager
was referring
. 
A
deep flush darken
ed
her cheeks
,
while
a visibly trembling
Stevens
s
plash
ed
a little
coffee on
to the saucer of the
dowager
’s cup
.

Lady Ormiston flashed him a reprimanding glare. 
‘H
owever,
’
she continued
, turning her attention back to Eleanor without
even a hint of embarrassment,
‘
as women we simply have to put on a brave face and bear such minor inconveniences.  
But b
efore you have to deal with
any of that nonsense, we have the
daunting task of finding the man.  Now what I have arranged to help us in our quest is this: you will begin your dancing lessons today
-
I have arranged for a dancing master who will be here in precisely one hour.  This afternoon I will supervise your embroi
dery and your pianoforte
.  Tomorrow morning you shall have another dancing lesson and then in the afternoon …
’

As her godmother continued to r
eel
off
a
list of
tedious activities, Eleanor
was aware of
her appetite
dwindling and her spirits
sinking through the floor and beyond.  If only she were at home now: in a house
where she had no problem locating rooms
;
in a house where she was free
,
not forced to partake in a daily round of frivolous, time-wasting pursuits.  All of this was Hester Scones’s fault, she
couldn’t help but reflect
, as her regretful thoughts turned once again
to ham and pea soup
. 

THREE

W
ith
the exception of
being swung around the drawing-
room by her father when she was six years old
, accompanied by her mother playing
a jaunty tune on the pianoforte, Eleanor had
no experience
of dancing
.  A fact that became obvious the moment
the dancing master, Mo
nsieur Aminieux
,
arrived at the castle.  M.
Aminieux was a French gentleman of some middle fifty years
,
with silver pomaded curls, a theatrical manner
, and a
pench
ant for strong cologne and bold
apparel.  This particular day, his attire included voluminous
pink
breeches, a frilled lilac shirt
, and a yellow waistcoat
embroidered with
piglets.  

F
or al
l his frivolous exterior,
though, it soon became obvious
that M.
Aminieux was a stringent task-master.

‘
Non! Non! Non!
’
he cried
,
for what seemed like the hundredth time, shaking his head of curls so fra
ntically that yet another
cloud of powder landed over Eleanor’s face. 
‘
It is not like that.  It is like this.
’
He released his hold of he
r and, positioning his arms as though he were holding a much more able partner, began waltzing around the ballroom on his own. 
‘
You must be
elegante
.  You must be light on the feet.  See how I am floating here.
’

Eleanor sighed
as she watched his rotund, multi-coloured form, waddling around the polished wooden
boards of the room.  H
ad she not been so exhausted, she
would
no doubt
have found the scene amusing.  But she was
exhausted
.  A
nd nauseous –
which she attributed
to M.
Aminieux’s
overpowering
cologne.  She seemed to have been dancing for hours,
although in reality it was
a little over fifty minutes.  There were so many wretched things to think about: where to put one’s arms, what to do with one’s feet, how to hold one’s head.  How anything that was designed for pleasure could be so dr
eadfully taxing, was
beyond her.  To
make matters worse, the
lesson was being supervised by Lady Ormiston whose booming voice, at irregular but frequent intervals, insisted on adding to Eleanor’s already lengthy list of instructions.

M
onsieur
Aminieux
waltzed back around to his pupil and
took hold of her once again.  Eleanor placed her ar
ms in what she optimistically hoped
to be the
correct position
, only to have them immediately readjusted
by her
disapproving
instructor. 

‘
Alors,
’
he
announced
, failing to hide the lilt of impatience in his tone. 
‘
N
ow we will tr
y again.  An
d …one, two, three.  One, two, three …,
’
he
count
ed,
swinging Eleanor
around the floor.

‘
Hands, Eleanor!  Hands!
’
boomed the
dowager
. 

‘
Feet!  Feet!
’
commanded M.
Aminieux.

‘
Head, girl!  Head!
’
shrieked the
dowager
.

Eleanor’s concentration vacillated frantically between the nominated body parts.   

After only a few minutes
,
M.
Aminieux called a halt. 

‘
Non! Non! Non!
’
he cried
,
almost
casting Eleanor aside in disgust. 
‘
It is all wrong.  She is too clumsy.  She is like the rhinoceros, this girl.  I have never had such a pupil
.  Never
dans
ma vie
!
’

‘
That I can quite believe, sir,
’
remarked a deep voice from the doorway.  Eleanor
spun around to find
James observing the scene with undisguised amusement. 
‘
Although I think perhaps you meant a
hippopotamus
,
M.
Aminieux. 
Th
at
ungainly African animal that spends much of its time wallowing in mud.
’

Furious at
yet another demons
tration of
blatant rudeness,
an indignant
Elean
or placed her hands
on her hips.  In her entire life she had not encountered
the amount of insults
she had been forced to endure i
n less than a day at Whitlock. 
To make matters worse, no one, she realized, was showing her the slightest bit of interest
.  A
ll attention was, yet again, focussed on James
-
the d
owager
and M.
Aminieux
both equally, for some
unfathomable reason,
d
elighted to see him. 
James strode confidently towards the dancing master, whose whole mood appeared to have changed in an instant and who was now beaming broadly.  James
was followed b
y a second young man whose pale-
red hair, wiry build and el
ongated face put Eleanor
in mind of a weasel.
 

Her anger at the manner of the interruption was
greatly
offset by the
welcome
opportunity to take a much
-
desired rest.  Unobserved, she
pushed aside her annoyance and slipped over to the side of the room where she
s
ank
down on
one of the blue velvet gilt chairs, removed her slippers and leaned over to massage her aching feet.

‘
Ah,
M.
James,
’
exclaimed M.
Aminieux, inclin
ing his head to the younger man.  ‘H
o
w delightful to see you
.
’

‘
I
t
is a pleasure to see you too,
m
onsieur
,
’
replied James
, stopping in front of the
Frenchman
and returning
th
e gesture. 
‘
Please do forgive me for interrupting, sir
, a
nd you too, Aunt,
’
he
added
, bowing to the
d
owager
,
‘
but
I wished t
o introduce Mr Derek Lovell - a
n old friend of mine from university, who
m
I have not seen for quite some time.
’

The young man, who had been hanging back behind James, st
ep
ped forward and bowed to both the
d
owager
and the dancing
master. 
‘
Delighted to make your acquaintance,
’
he gushed
,
in a
n unpleasant
nasally voice which, Eleanor considered,
matched his unappealing
appearance perfectly.

‘
Mr Lovell has just returned from overseas and wishes to spend
what is left of
the Season in London.  I have invited him to stay with us here at Whitlock.
’

‘
But of course,
’
replied a smiling d
owager
. 
‘
You
must
stay with us, Mr Lovell.  I
shall
have a room prepared for you at once.  Stevens!
’
she bellowed, causin
g the name to rebound off
all four walls of the vast ballroom
a
nd everyone in it to quake.

As if by magic, a quivering Stevens appeared in the doorway. 
‘
Yes, your g
race?
’

‘
Mr Lovell
will
be staying with us for a while, Stevens.  Have a room made up for him immediately.  The blue room next to James should suit very nicely.
’

As Stevens scuttled away to fulfil the order, the
d
owager
turned her attention back to her nephew. 
‘
Now, James, sha
ll we have the pleasure of your company at luncheon today?
’

   
‘
Indeed you will, A
unt
,’ confirmed a smiling James.  ‘Lovell
and I have
just returned from the city after something of a
…
heavy night.’ 
He
winked knowingly at his friend.  The gesture was returned with an
unpleasant sneer.

   
M
onsieur
Aminieux chuckled conspiratorially. 
‘
Ah, the young men.  They like to be having the fun.
’

The
d
owager
tutted and shook her head in mock despair. 
‘
Really, James
, I think the less
I know about your nocturnal exploits the better.
’
 

James chuckled and planted a kiss on his aunt’s lined cheek. 
‘
I fear, dear Aunt
,
that in that assumption, you are quite correct.
’

Listening to the jovial banter as she massaged her feet, Eleanor carelessly sounded her own, less favourable opinion. 
‘Hmph,
’ she
snorted
,
as she
pondered the unfairness of it all
.  How much
easier – and undoubtedly
more fun - life would be, if only she’d be
en
born a male.

By the su
dden s
ilence that ensued, it took only
seconds for her to realiz
e that her
note
o
f disapproval had been
somewhat
louder than
intended.
Silently c
ursing herself
,
she slowly raised her head t
o find four sets of
eyes regarding her intently
a
nd
an ex
pression of incredulity
sweeping over the
d
owager
’s face as she observed her shoe-less goddaughter with her dress scrunched up around her knees.

‘
Ecod! Cover yourself up, girl!
’
she
roared, so loudly that Eleanor almost jumped out of the seat.

Hastily she tugged down her dress and pulled on her slippers. 
‘
Sorry,
G
odmother,
’
she sighed
, realiz
ing she had once again failed to behave in the expected decorous manner.  Would she ever
get the hang of this so-called
‘
proper
’
way to
behave?
she wondered.
Given that this ‘
proper
’
way
seemed to go completely against her natural behaviour
, she wasn’t hopeful
. 

James, she noticed, was regarding her deprecatingly, one corner of his mouth tugging upwards. 
‘
Well, Aunt
,
m
onsieur
,
’
he declared,
‘
I think it best that we leave you now.  You obviously have an
enormous
amount of work to do.
’