Page 7 of The Viscount's Pearl
The carriage halted. In a moment the ribbons had vanished into her reticule just in time for the door to be opened by a footman, who found them seated on opposite sides, not even their knees touching. Laurence sprang lightly out of the carriage and held out his hand for Lady Kingsman, who alighted with careful dignity and was escorted by him first into the theatre and thence to her private box – and the small room behind it to which they repaired for a large part of the evening’s entertainment.
Chapter 3
The Birth of Venus
Waking in Margate each day was a source of happiness for Frances. She rose early, dressed simply, breakfasted on toast and hot chocolate with Uncle Barrington and then the carriage would arrive for them, so that they reached the town and shoreline well before most visitors, allowing her to pace the beach in glorious solitude. Uncle Barrington kept watch over her from the promenade and occasionally she would bring him a particularly fine specimen, which he would admire. About midday they would be served a meal in the sunshine and then continue shell seeking until late in the afternoon. It was a wonderful life and she was somewhat put out at the news that they were to be joined by a visitor.
“My heir, Laurence Mowatt. He travels tomorrow.”
Frances nodded, uninterested except for one particular. “Will he be staying long?”
“A week, perhaps two.”
She had been hoping for only a few days, but never mind. No doubt a young man would spend his time socialising with local society or riding, bathing and so on. She only hoped he would not commandeer too much of Uncle Barrington’s time.
The journey from London to Margate was as tedious as Laurence had feared, but he spent much of it asleep after the late evening he had enjoyed with Lady Kingsman. Arriving late at Northdown House, he was informed, as expected, that Lord Barrington had already retired. The servants, however, were welcoming to their future master, serving him a hearty meal accompanied by a good wine, then taking him to the warm and comfortable Cherry Bedroom, where Roberts had already unpacked and made everything homely. Dressed in a warmed nightgown, lying in a well-aired and exceedingly comfortable feather bed, Laurence blew out the candle by his bedside and slept.
In the morning, freshly washed and dressed, he made his way to the drawing room for breakfast but was surprised to be informed by the butler that Lord Barrington had risen early, breakfasted and was “on the beach with Miss Lilley.”
“Miss Lilley?”
“His goddaughter, Sir, she is visiting at present. His lordship desired that you join them at the beach when you had breakfasted. Your horse will be saddled and waiting for you when you are ready.”
Laurence ate a couple of slices of a rich plum cake, drank his coffee and then made his way out via the gardens and to the stables, where a groom was waiting with Hippomenes, a fine grey. Laurence re-acquainted himself with the horse, offeringhim a freshly-picked apple from the orchard before getting easily into the saddle. He prided himself on being able to ride most horses well, but he did have a soft spot for Hippomenes, the first fully grown horse he had ridden as a boy. The horse had been only a couple of years old at the time, but standing at a fully grown sixteen hands, he had seemed very impressive to the young Laurence, who was only just graduating from his favourite pony. Uncle Barrington had always kept a riding horse for guests, despite no longer being able to ride himself, and so Hippomenes had an easy enough life, ridden mostly for exercise by the grooms to keep him even tempered and in good form. It had been the best part of four years since Laurence had visited Northdown, but the horse still whinnied with recognition, fresh and eager for the day’s outing.
The ride to the sea from Northdown House was a short and fairly direct route, mostly downhill and Laurence took it at a brisk trot, enjoying the bright autumn morning and the fresh air. Once in the centre of Margate, close to the promenade overlooking the sandy beach, he dismounted and paid a young boy to watch over Hippomenes for him while he sought out Lord Barrington.
His uncle was easy enough to spot on the already busy beachfront, for while there were bath chairs here and there, Uncle Barrington went about with two strong footmen, who had been chosen for their burly arms. Andrew and Benjamin had been with his household for years, taking Lord Barrington wherever he wished to go, whether it be gently pushing him along the promenade in his chair like the other invalids or on more intrepid adventures, when they would carry him onto beaches both popular and deserted, even down difficult-to-manage cliff paths. Laurence quickly reached his uncle and presented himself before him with a small bow.
“Uncle Barrington.”
“Laurence, my boy! You are most welcome to Margate. I am sorry I was not at home to greet you when you rose, but I thought you would be weary after the journey from London and wish to rise late. Frances was keen to get to the beach early, while the strandline was still fresh. We are but servants to the tide.”
Laurence made a bow. “I am very pleased to see you, Sir. You are looking well.”
“I rarely look well, but you are kind to say so. Frances! Come and join us!”
A young woman some way off turned and made her way towards them. She was not particularly noticeable, Laurence thought, being of average height and dressed in plain blue cotton with little decoration. An equally severe blue bonnet with a white ribbon contained most of her hair, though a few dark brown tendrils had escaped in the breeze. Her feet were shod in worn leather boots and she carried a small straw basket lined in green linen, in which were a handful of shells, none of them remarkable. Her skin was browner than it should be for a lady; clearly she had spent too much time in the sun without a parasol. She could easily have been mistaken for a lady’s maid or the daughter of a merchant, so plainly was she dressed.
Uncle Barrington, however, was beaming at the sight of her. “Laurence, may I introduce my goddaughter Miss Frances Lilley, daughter of Viscount Lilley. She has been a regular visitor here over the years and is staying with me for a few weeks. Frances, this is my nephew and heir Mr Laurence Mowatt, son of Mr Mowatt and my dear late departed sister Cecilia. He used to come to me often when he was a boy along with his mother, for she was fond of the sea. We have not seen one another nearly enough since her passing, so I wrote and asked him to join me here for a visit.”
Laurence bowed. The young woman, eyes fixed on the ground at their feet, gave a curtsey in return, but did not say anything,nor so much as smile. So much for Uncle Barrington being lonely, thought Laurence, he already had one “young spirit” as he liked to call them, for company, and hardly needed Laurence to attend him at Northdown. Still, if Miss Lilley were staying she would be company for his uncle. He might be able to leave sooner than he had thought.
“Are you enjoying Margate, Miss Lilley?”
She did not raise her gaze to him. “Yes.”
Laurence waited for some other comment, some pleasantry about the sea air or doting on her godfather, but nothing was forthcoming.
He blinked and tried again. “Do you come for your health, or the pleasure of Uncle Barrington’s company?”
Simpering flattery of Uncle Barrington was what he was expecting, but Miss Lilley only shrugged – shrugged! – and said, “I come for the shells.”
Laurence frowned, but Uncle Barrington let out a laugh. “Her bluntness does me good,” he said. “I grow weary of thetonand all its falsities disguised as niceties. You will no doubt meet some of the local society while you are here, Laurence, and then you will see why I prefer Frances’ company to theirs.”
Laurence tried to smile in return at the jest, but to his consternation Miss Lilley had already turned away from both of them and had begun walking away along the beach, following an invisible line of her own, head down, turning slightly from side to side. She occasionally stooped to pick up a shell and add it to her basket, then continued. She did not look back at the two men, did not in any way suggest that they might wish to follow her or indeed that she had anything to do with them.
Disconcerted, Laurence turned back to his uncle, who was watching Miss Lilley with a fond smile.
