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For once Phyllida did not feel any inclination to laugh at Ellen’s sauciness. She was aware of Richard watching her and, disconcerted, she responded rather more tartly that she had intended.
‘Since I have approved Mr Arrandale, I doubt I will have any choice with the rest!’
‘But they are all very respectable, Philly, or Mrs Desborough would not have introduced them to me.’
Ellen was gazing at her, puzzled, and Phyllida pulled herself together.
‘No, of course she would not. I am sure they are all pillars of Bath society.’
A scratching at the door diverted her attention and she looked up as Matlock entered the room.
‘Signor Piangi has arrived, my lady. I have put him in the morning room.’
‘Oh, is it time for my Italian lesson already?’ cried Ellen. ‘I will come with you directly, Matty. If you will excuse me, Mr Arrandale.’
He bowed.
‘Until Monday, Miss Tatham.’
Phyllida watched Ellen skip out of the room. Matlock hovered by the door, as if unwilling to leave them alone, but Phyllida waved her away.
‘Go with her, Matty. You will remain in the morning room until the signor leaves.’ Richard was watching her and she added, as the door closed upon them, ‘It is important to me that no hint of impropriety should touch my stepdaughter while she is in Bath.’
He inclined his head. She thought for a moment he would resume his seat but instead he picked up his hat and gloves from the table.
‘I have an appointment I must keep.’ He hesitated. ‘If you and Miss Tatham would like to visit Sydney Gardens on Sunday, I should be very happy to escort you there.’
‘Thank you, sir, but, no. We are, um, otherwise engaged.’
It was not true, and she prayed he would not ask what that engagement might be.
‘Of course. Until Monday, then.’
He bowed and was gone.
Phyllida sank back into her chair, her spirits strangely depressed. She would like to believe that Richard Arrandale had merely come to pay his respects to her, that he had truly remembered dancing with her all those years ago, but she doubted it. After all, she had never been rich enough or pretty enough to attract much attention in her one and only Season. Who wanted a soft well-modulated voice when they could enjoy Miss Anston’s trilling laugh, or Miss Rollinson’s lively tones? The more direct of the mothers with daughters to wed had called her thin and unattractive.
Phyllida gave herself a little shake. That was all in the past. She had lost her girlish ranginess, her glass told her that her willowy form and firm, full breasts showed to advantage in the high-waisted, low-cut gowns that were so fashionable. Yet, for all that, she paled to insignificance when compared to her lovely stepdaughter and she would be a fool to think otherwise.
Richard Arrandale had clearly set his sights upon Ellen. She remembered how he had been watching her in the Pump Room. She might ask Lady Hune to warn him off, but although she was very fond of the indomitable marchioness she could not imagine that Sophia would have much influence over her rakish great-nephew.
No. Phyllida knew it would be up to her to keep Ellen safe.
* * *
Richard strode away down Charles Street, well pleased with his first day’s work. The widow was cautious, which was as it should be, but Ellen was friendly enough. Very young, of course, but a taking little thing. He frowned when he recalled how she had spoken of the fellows in Sydney Gardens clamouring for an introduction. He had no doubt that some—if not all—of them were involved in the wager, but he had the advantage and he intended that it should stay that way. However, he knew better than to rush his fences. He would dance with the chit on Monday night. None of the others were likely to steal her heart before then.
* * *
By the time Phyllida went to bed that night she had made a decision. Jane was waiting to braid her hair and help her to undress, but as soon as she had donned her nightgown Phyllida threw on her silk wrap and went to Ellen’s room.
‘May I come in?’
She peeped around the door. Ellen was already in her bed, propped up against a billowing mass of pillows, reading by the light of a branched candlestick that was burning perilously close to the bed-hangings. As the door opened she jumped and attempted to hide the book under the bedcovers, but when she saw it was Phyllida she heaved a sigh of relief.
‘Oh, it is you. I thought it was Matty.’
‘What are you reading? Is it so very bad?’
Ellen nodded, her eyes shining.
‘Ambrosia, or the Monk,’ she announced with relish. ‘It is quite shocking. When I told Matty she promised to burn it if she found it.’
‘I am not at all surprised. How did you get a copy?
‘Oh, it has been circulating at school for months, but I did not have the opportunity to read it so I brought it with me. You need not worry, Philly, it is the later version, where Mr Lewis has removed the most salacious passages. Although I would dearly like to know what they were, because the story is still quite horrid in places!’
‘Then you should not be reading it.’
Phyllida lunged for the book but Ellen was too quick and thrust it under her pillows, saying loftily, ‘You know Papa decreed that ignorance was the worst of all sins. He always said I could read whatever I wished, as long as I discussed with him or you anything I did not understand.’
With a sigh Phyllida curled up on the end of the bed, unequal to the task of physically struggling with Ellen.
‘Unfortunately I have a lowering suspicion that there is much in Mr Lewis’s Gothic tale that I would not understand,’ she admitted. ‘I am wondering if I have done you a grave disservice in bringing you to Bath, Ellen.’
‘No, how could that be?’ Ellen frowned suddenly. ‘Has Uncle Walter been complaining to you again? Aunt Bridget wrote and invited me to go and stay with them, but I know the only reason she did so is because they do not approve of my coming to live with you.’
‘No, it is nothing like that, but—’ Phyllida stopped, considering her words carefully. ‘There are...dangers in society, Ellen.’
‘What sort of dangers?’
‘Gentlemen will sometimes prey upon innocent young women, especially if they are...’
‘If they are rich,’ finished Ellen, nodding sagely. ‘I am well aware of that. Mrs Ackroyd was at pains to make sure we all knew the risks that gentlemen posed.’ Again that mischievous light twinkled in her blue eyes. ‘She prepared us very well, I think. I may even know more than you, Philly.’
‘That is very possible,’ replied Phyllida, sighing. ‘You have had a very good education and I am sure the teachers told you much about the world, but it is very easy to have one’s head turned and succumb to the attentions of a personable gentleman.’ Phyllida saw the speculative look in Ellen’s eye and added quickly, ‘At least I believe it is so, although I have never experienced it myself.’
‘Poor Philly. Did Papa snabble you up before you could fall in love with anyone?’
‘Yes—no! Ellen, that is not the point.’
Ellen laughed.
‘I think it is very much the point, my love. You were very young and innocent when you became my stepmama, were you not? Seventeen, in fact. As I am now.’
‘Quite. And I was very shy and retiring.’
‘Which I am not, so you may rest easy, my love.’
Phyllida shook her head at her. ‘You may think you know the ways of the world, Ellen, but there are gentlemen in Bath who may seem very pleasant and respectable, yet they are not to be trusted.’
‘Do you mean rakes?’ asked Ellen. ‘There were several residing near the school, hoping one of us would be foolish enough to run off with them. Mrs Ackroyd pointed them out to us.’
‘Heavens, I knew nothing of this!’
‘No, well, I could hardly write and tell you about it, you would have wanted to fetch me away immediately. In fact we had to sit on that sneak Bernice Lingford to stop her from gabbing about the whole. It’s a pity she doesn’t have a fortune, because without some incentive no one will ever want to run off with her.’
‘Ellen!’
‘Well, it is true,’ replied Ellen. ‘She is a spiteful, greedy cat, so no man could like her, even if she wasn’t buck-toothed and fusby-faced.’
‘Let us hope she will grow out of it,’ replied Phyllida, trying to be charitable. ‘However, we are straying from the point—’
‘The point is, Stepmother dear, that we were all perfectly safe at school. That was why Papa chose Mrs Ackroyd’s institution for me, because she is accustomed to having the daughters of the very rich in her care.’ Ellen drew up her knees and wrapped her arms about them. ‘She is very progressive, though, and thinks that education is the best preparation for any young lady making her come-out. She taught us what to expect from a husband, too, because she says mothers invariably make a hash of it. ‘
Phyllida blinked, momentarily silenced by her stepdaughter’s matter-of-fact statement.
‘I am very glad of it,’ she said at last. ‘But I would still urge you to be cautious. It is very easy for a young lady to lose her heart to a rake.’
‘But you said you never had done so,’ objected Ellen.
Phyllida was about to correct her but thought better of it.
Ellen continued thoughtfully, ‘It is not too late, though. We might well find you a husband in Bath.’
‘I do not want a husband! That is not why I came here.’
‘But you said yourself you were lonely at Tatham Park.’
‘That is true, Ellen, but only because I was missing your father. And you. I am very much looking forward to our time here together.’
‘But once I have made my come-out, what then? I have no intention of settling upon a husband too soon but I suppose I must marry at some point and then you will be alone again.’
Phyllida felt the conversation was getting away from her. She said crisply, ‘I am glad you do not intend to rush into marriage with the first young man who takes your fancy, so I need not contemplate my future for a long time yet.’ She slid off the bed. ‘Now, I have said what I wanted to say, although it would seem Mrs Ackroyd has already prepared you for the perils of the world, so I shall leave you to sleep.’ She leaned close to kiss Ellen’s cheek and felt the girl’s arms wind about her neck.
‘Goodnight, my darling stepmama. We shall have such fun in Bath together.’
Phyllida gave Ellen a final hug and made her way back to her own room. The discussion had not gone quite as she had imagined and she was beginning to suspect that looking after Ellen would be far more challenging that she had anticipated.
* * *
The next few days were filled with shopping and visitors. None of the gentlemen Ellen had met in the park were brave enough to call at Charles Street uninvited but when Phyllida took her stepdaughter to the morning service at the Abbey on Sunday it seemed that every one of her acquaintances wished to perform an introduction to Mr This or Sir That. Ellen behaved impeccably, but Phyllida found herself scrutinising every gentleman who came up to her, watching for signs that they might be trying to fix their interest with Ellen. There were several married gentlemen amongst their number, such as Mr Cromby whose jovial, avuncular style was not to her taste. Neither did she warm to the fashionably dressed widower, Sir Charles Urmston, although he appeared to be a favourite of Mrs Desborough, who made the introduction.
Phyllida noticed Lady Hune coming out of the Abbey on the arm of her great-nephew. The dowager looked magnificent, as always, in black and silver but Phyllida’s eyes were drawn to Richard’s lean upright figure. She thought how well the simple lines of the dark coat and light-coloured pantaloons suited him. When he removed his hat to bow to an acquaintance, his short brown hair glinted with gold in the sunlight. He looked like the epitome of a gentleman and she stifled a sigh. How deceptive appearances could be. The marchioness was moving through the crowd towards her carriage, but when she saw Phyllida she stopped and beckoned to her. Ellen was deep in conversation with Julia Wakefield and Phyllida did not call her away, preferring not to bring her into Mr Arrandale’s orbit more than necessary.
Lady Hune greeted Phyllida cordially and invited her to take tea with her later, a singular honour that Phyllida had no hesitation in accepting on behalf of herself and her stepdaughter. Too late did she recall that she had told Richard they were not free. She saw the laughter in his eyes and felt the heat rising to her face.
‘Your previous engagement today has been cancelled, perhaps?’ he murmured.
‘You are promised elsewhere?’ said Lady Hune, overhearing. ‘My dear, you must not break your engagement on my account.’
Phyllida shook her head, saying hastily, ‘I had mistaken the day. We should be delighted to join you, ma’am.’
Richard Arrandale was in no wise discomposed by the fulminating glance she threw at him, merely casting a grin in her direction before he turned aside to greet another acquaintance.
‘I am glad you can come.’ Lady Hune nodded. ‘You will be able to tell me how your charming stepdaughter goes on in Bath. Very well, if appearances are anything to go by.’
Phyllida followed the dowager’s eyes to where Ellen was now part of a lively crowd of young people.
‘She has already made new friends of her own age, Lady Hune.’
‘Which is as it should be—’ The dowager broke off as Ellen and Julia Wakefield ran up, their faces alight with excitement that could barely be contained while they made their curtsies. The old lady’s eyes gleamed with amusement.
‘You are clearly big with news,’ she observed solemnly. ‘You had best get it out before you burst.’
Julia giggled and Ellen, after a blushing smile towards Lady Hune, turned her expressive eyes towards Phyllida.
‘Lady Wakefield says there are the most romantic Gothic ruins just a few miles from Bath at Farleigh Castle. We are on fire to see them and Lady Wakefield says she will set up a riding party, if only you will give your permission, Philly. Dearest, do say I may go. Lord and Lady Wakefield will be accompanying us and Julia has a spare pony that I may ride—’
Laughing, Phyllida put up a hand to stop her.
‘Of course you may go, and there is no need to borrow a horse, for Parfett is even now bringing our own horses from Tatham Park. I thought we might like to ride out occasionally before the weather closes in.’
‘Will you come, too, Lady Phyllida?’ asked Julia in a breathless whisper, ‘It will be delightful if you can, I am sure—’ She broke off, blushing scarlet when she realised her company. ‘And Lady Hune, of course,’ she added hurriedly.
‘My riding days are over,’ replied the dowager, choosing to be amused by Julia’s artlessness.
‘If Lady Wakefield is going with you then you do not need me to come,’ said Phyllida, not wishing to put herself forward. Besides, she had made up her mind not to be a clinging chaperon. ‘You may go off and enjoy yourself with my goodwill.’
Lady Hune turned to Julia.
‘Does your mama know the family at Farleigh House?’ When the girl shook her head the dowager continued. ‘Tell her to write to the housekeeper there, mention my name and I have no doubt she will receive you.’
‘Th-thank you, ma’am,’ stuttered Julia, wide-eyed.
‘Well, off you go and tell your mother to arrange the whole,’ Lady Hune dismissed her impatiently.
Ellen looked to Phyllida and, receiving a nod, she curtsied and ran off after her new friend.
Lady Hune tutted. ‘She will keep you busy, Phyllida.’
‘I think she will, ma’am, but I shall enjoy the distraction, after spending so long alone.’
‘I am glad you are come to Bath. You were too young to be incarcerated at Tatham Park.’ The dowager tapped Phyllida’s arm with one be-ringed finger, saying urgently, ‘Find yourself a husband, Phyllida. You are still young and Tatham left you well provided for, so you need not regard the money. This time you can marry to please yourself.’
Phyllida blushed hotly. ‘I assure you, my lady, I was perfectly happy—’
‘Aye, but no need to tell me it wasn’t a love-match.’
