Enchanted Summer: (Regency Romance) (8 page)

Bella and Mrs. Meade had several errands and purchases outlined for Celia and were excited that she was to make such a trip and in such company. Her mother brought it up several times at dinner, which, Mrs. Meade told Celia, gave Caroline a disgust. Caroline had retired early to her room, “in a mood”, Margaretta whispered to Celia, to Celia’s discomfort, for she hated to have a harmless pleasure of hers made into a triumph by her mother, apart from the fact that it was dangerous for her mother to taunt Caroline.

She did not wish to compete with Caroline in any way and was forcing herself to think of the journey as one done in the company of her dear, new friend, Ellen.

The sky was white and cloudless and the air crisp and cool the next morning when Celia, wrapped in her new burgundy walking gown and matching woolen cape boarded the Merricks' large elegant carriage and greeted Ellen and their Aunt Lavinia warmly while avoiding her brother’s eyes.

From the doorway her mother, Bella and Fred bid her farewell with many entreaties not to forget their errands. Celia glanced up and saw Caroline looking from a window above.

The hours flew by for Celia as the carriage covered the miles, for the trip was made in the company of a new friend, Ellen, their Aunt Lavinia, who was a gentle lady who spoke kindly to Celia and the man Celia yearned for in painful secret. Robert sat opposite her and it was difficult to avoid looking directly at him when he was constantly addressing her in conversation.

Ellen had added the extra incentive of a visit to the Royal Academy of Art and Celia could hardly wait for such a treat. She would be able to look at paintings in real life rather than prints. She could hardly wait from the excitement she felt.

The carriage was huge, so their Aunt Lavinia, the two girls and Lord Merrick, had ample room in the coach to stretch their legs and arms.

Celia finally gave in to the pleasure of Robert’s company and talked at length with him. They spoke of books they had both read and Celia found out he knew a lot about art and was aware of contemporary artists of whom she was most ashamedly in total ignorance. And knowing this to be one of her favorite subjects, Robert expanded on it, to Celia’s pleasure.

She wondered why something that gave her so much happiness had to be laced with the hurt of denial that she must force on herself. Why had her heart been drawn towards the very man she was not allowed to encourage?

“There is an important art movement going on in France,” Robert said. “The most important of these artists, Eugene Delacroix, is considered an innovator and, therefore, dangerous to the establishment. He is often reviled. There is an exhibition of his paintings at the Royal Academy of Art. We would love for you to go see his paintings with us, Miss Meade.”

“I so look forward to it,” Celia said happily.

“We could also visit the British Museum, if we have time,” Ellen added. “Do you know, Celia, that it is the first museum that was established in the world?”

“I didn’t know, Ellen. How proud of our country it makes me feel,” Celia replied.

Celia had never been able to afford even the hackney fare to visit the museum and the Academy when she lived in London, and would have felt guilty if she had spent the money on herself in such a way, when she and her family often went without supper.

* * *

As their journey advanced, Celia tried to pull Ellen into the conversation but it looked like Ellen was content to just listen to her and her brother, her eyes, as were those of Aunt Lavinia, on her embroidery, Ellen spoke only when called upon by her brother for a reference.

Celia became very aware that Ellen had a scheme for bringing together her brother and Celia and from her smiles she could see Ellen felt it was working very well, at least for now.

Celia held back, though. Always in the back of her mind was the fact that Caroline had targeted Lord Merrick as her own and if she felt threatened by Celia in this regard, goodness knew what she would resort to. Celia and her family were dependents of their uncle now and their stay at Rook’s End was precarious.

She could tell that Ellen was looking forward to the opportunity to speak to Celia in confidence while Robert took care of his own business in London.

There would be a shopping spree where they would spend many hours in each other’s company. Ellen had even mentioned that they might extend the stay in London by two more days. Surely, she had insisted, the shopping and museum visit could not be both accomplished in a single day.

At their first stop at an inn where they partook of luncheon, Ellen conferred with their aunt, and with Celia and her brother as to the necessity to extend their stay in London and asked Celia if she was in agreement. When Celia nodded, a little uncertainly, Ellen brightened considerably.

“Would you then dispatch a note to your family, Celia?”

Celia could just see her mother’s reaction when she received the missive. It had been difficult for Mrs. Meade to allow Celia to “leave her to fend for herself” for three days, but quite impossible that she should be forced to be without her for five days.

Celia tried to put from her mind what her mother’s reaction would be to the letter and tried to enjoy their stay in London without any disquieting thoughts.

Ellen introduced Celia to many of the Merricks’ friends who were temporarily residing in London. The morning of the day after their arrival saw them greeting many callers, while a slew of invitations had already piled up in the post tray. Aunt Lavinia had a wide acquaintance in London and they, too, came to call on her at the townhouse.

After an enjoyable morning of shopping, Ellen and Celia looked forward to the afternoon, when they would visit the Royal Academy with Lord Merrick. Aunt Lavinia stayed home to receive her own callers when the three young people made their plans for the day.

Lord Robert’s mornings in London were taken up by his attendance in Parliament but he had the afternoons free and these he spent with his sister and Celia.

He told them he was trying to get all his business out of the way so he could spend even more time with them.

Finally, the free day came around, when he would spend it all with Celia and Ellen, given over entirely to them without fear of interruptions.

They set out in the carriage over the crowded streets early after luncheon.

“We’ll visit the botanical gardens first, Celia, for Ellen told me you have not been to one for a long time.”

“Ellen and I will try to make your visit a special treat,” he added.

Celia enjoyed the visit immensely, stopping to admire luscious orchids or strange tropical flowers with the interest of one as akin to nature as she was. She especially liked the orchids and African violets and the exotic plants from the Sandwich Islands. Her enthusiasm overflowed and Robert promised her that on a subsequent visit to London they would visit the gardens again.

Robert then took them to Gunter’s for tea and ices.

Ellen and Celia were glad for the respite after all their walking in the gardens. In the afternoon, he suggested, they would rest for a while before embarking on the second part of the afternoon and the visit to the Royal Academy.

He talked at length of the paintings he particularly liked and which they were to see shortly and Celia was content to listen, often just the sound of his voice so enjoyable that she hardly heard the content while she gave herself in to the pleasure of it. She loved his voice and now and then capitulated and looked into those eyes she was beginning to know so well and the contour of his dear face, for his eyes compelled her to look into them, drawing her toward him.

He was talking now of the extraordinary use of red Botticelli made.

“I will be a brave artist who can compete with Botticelli in the use of the scarlet,” he said.

“I have noticed,” said Ellen, “that artists tend particularly toward one color or two and make them distinctively theirs. You are an artist, Celia,” she said, “what think you of this idea?”

“Perhaps you could try to remember other artists and which particular colors they favor, Ellen. I’m convinced I learn more from listening to you and Lord Merrick than from hearing my own voice. I am not as knowledgeable in the subject as you two are. Please, try to recall, for I believe this idea of yours is of particular interest to me.”

“Well,” said Ellen smiling happily, “perhaps the royal blues in Caravaggio’s paintings would seem to make blue a color that artist favors.”

“He favors red hues, as well,” said Robert, yet he does not achieve that luminosity in the red that Botticelli does.

“What colors do you favor, Miss Meade?”

“I? Well, mine is but a raw, unschooled art. I don’t think I have come to even favor a particular color as yet.”

“I noticed a blue green—a cool turquoise that seems a favorite with you in your paintings, Celia,” said Ellen.

“Really?” Celia’s eyes glowed, that anyone would particularly remember anything about her watercolors was very flattering.

The afternoon wore on in just such a pleasant way. Celia wanted to stop time from ticking away, from stealing from her the best and most perfect afternoon of her life.

They continued on to the British Museum and Celia felt that she had learned so much first-hand knowledge of art that would serve for many happy hours in the memory of it. No matter what happened, she told herself, no one could ever take away from her the memory of these few days and it would belong to her always, to re-live and enjoy in the future.

The following day they again spent all day with Robert, also. The trio visited Hatchett’s Book Store, partook of luncheon in a cozy tea room and in the afternoon visited the famous Elgin’s Marbles, the Menagerie and the Tower.

Finally, on the morning of the sixth day, the travelers headed back home, all four of them exhausted in a happy way and the hours in the carriage served to confirm their fast-growing friendship.

CHAPTER 8

Celia should have known that such unalloyed happiness always met up with stark reality, for on the day following their return from London, her uncle called her and her mother to his study for a meeting with Caroline.

After asking Celia if her trip to London had been enjoyable, Uncle Worth motioned for her and her mother to sit before him. There were three chairs before his massive desk and on one of the chairs sat Caroline, an angry look on her face.

“I’m sorry, Margaretta…” began Uncle Worth.

“There is nothing to feel sorry about on
your
part, Papa,” Caroline interrupted. “It’s Celia’s behavior that is the subject here.”

“Yes…well…” Uncle Worth began. Worth’s nervous manner bespoke that this talk with Celia had not been his idea.

He shook his head and continued. “Celia, my dear, I’m afraid Caroline fears you have given Lord Merrick signals that have led him to extend invitations such as your journey to London with him and his sister.”

“What kind of signals?” asked Celia. “It was Ellen’s idea for the journey to London and it was all that was proper. We went to London with their Aunt Lavinia.”

“Caroline…” Uncle Worth was now perspiring heavily.

“Papa, do continue,” Caroline cut in when her father hesitated.

Worth Delaney took out his handkerchief and mopped his face nervously. “Well, my dear Celia, let me be as blunt as Caroline wants me to be—has insisted I be, in fact.

“She fears that you have fixed your interest on Lord Merrick and are encouraging him. Caroline’s ambition is to marry Lord Merrick. She has emphasized that you have interfered in her quest and she wishes, nay, she desires me to
order
you to desist entirely. “Caroline,” he said, turning to his daughter. I believe you should state your wishes to Celia. I have done as you asked.”

Caroline shook her head. Her face drawn. She turned to Celia and spoke in what seemed to Celia suppressed rage.

“I have put up with your outrageous behavior for the last time, Celia,” she began. She hesitated, as if looking for words with which to make an impression that Celia would not soon forget.

Celia sat quietly, waiting for Caroline to continue. By her side, her mother sat with her eyes filled with tears, looking down at her hands.

“I will not countenance any more meetings between yourself and Lord Merrick, Celia.” Caroline looked directly into Celia’s eyes. “Should you continue in your pursuit of him you and your family will have to vacate our home. I was against your moving here to begin with and you have proven that when you give a beggar a piece of crust he grabs the whole loaf and spits at you.”

“Caroline!” Uncle Worth stood up.

“That’s the bare truth, Papa,” said Caroline standing up. “Lord Merrick and I had become friends long before he met Celia, and had not Celia arrived to disrupt our relationship, he would be by now close to a proposal! I will not put up any more with Celia’s interference in my social life!”

She left the room and slammed the door after her.

There followed a silence after Caroline left. Then Worth spoke, his voice broken.

“Celia,” said her uncle, “I–told Caroline I could not ask you to leave, for that is what she wanted me to do. She—uh—promised me, Celia,” he said with a sweep of his arm that included Mrs. Meade, who looked as if she had become frozen with fear as her tears now fell to her hands, on her lap, “that if you do not desist from what she called your pursuit of Lord Merrick and I do not ask you to leave, that she will make life so miserable for your family they will want to be somewhere else!”

“I will have no way of curbing Caroline’s behavior if she makes life miserable here for your family, Celia,” said Worth. “What recourse would I have? Order her to stop? I tried that, it did not work. Lock her in her room?”

Celia had remained quiet while her uncle spoke. And now that he had turned to her, an appeal in his kindly eyes, she saw that he was pleading for her to solve the problem. Celia glanced at her mother as she sat trembling at the thought that they should be sent back to Spitalfields. Celia saw that her mother’s hands on her lap were trembling and her face was wet with tears.

“I must have your word, Celia,” said her uncle in a ragged almost strangled voice, “that you will do nothing to upset Caroline’s plans to secure Lord Merrick’s affection. She was very upset that you went to London with Lady Ellen and Lord Merrick. She expressed to me that when you came to our household, she and Lord Merrick were at a brink of an understanding and that you have disrupted it by “pushing” as she put it, yourself before Lord Merrick. She insists that he is answering your requests out of embarrassment in what she called ‘a wish not to be rude to Caroline’s relations.’ I believe what she says is folderol, my dear, but you must see that I am between the sword and the wall in this.”

Celia felt a sinking in her heart. Was her budding love for Robert to be cut at the stem? Her uncle was openly asking her to do nothing that would encourage his attraction. Oh, but she had already done a lot to encourage it!

“You have my word that I will do nothing to disturb Caroline’s social life, Uncle Worth. I cannot be more specific than that, for to promise I will cease to “push” myself as she put it, before Lord Merrick is to admit to such behavior. I assure you that such behavior on my part does not exist.”

Uncle Worth was content with that and kissing Celia nervously on the brow, quit her company with a quick “Thank you, my dear Celia.”

* * *

Up until now, the few times Celia and Robert had been in each other’s company had been of the kind that do not call attention to themselves. That was until the trip to London. Caroline was now openly hostile toward Celia and ignored her pointedly, except when she remarked sarcastically on the Meades’ dependent state to her fawning friends.

Yet Caroline had convinced her father to allow a ball. She would have the costliest ball gown in lavender made for her, Celia was certain.

A ball was too public. Too much would be seen into Celia’s actions. Yet how was she to avoid it? Could she outright refuse to dance with Robert?

Rather than fill her with joy and expectation the ball now looked ahead like a menace, a “thing” that had the power to destroy her family’s happiness. It churned and churned in her mind until it gave her headaches and she would escape from the preparations going on and her sister’s and mother’s excitement and seek the quiet and peace of the woods where at least she could shut out all reminders of it while she drew, walked or read.

Yet Caroline’s acid words were ever present in her mind, so Celia restricted her walks to the Delaney’s small wood.

One afternoon she was unable to escape before being caught in the drawing-room with visitors who had come in for tea. One of the men who had called was Scott Bannister, who had come with his sister Lorraine. They were hardly settled into a conversation when Jack Longard arrived, followed shortly after by Ellen, Julia and Lord Robert Merrick. It quickly became a small party, with conversation centering on the coming ball.

Sylvia was asked to play the pianoforte and two or three of them sang alongside. Caroline had a fine voice, if a bit high, and her cousin, Jack’s tenor was a nice foil for it. Caroline distinguished herself before her audience and as she sang her eyes would now and then settle on Robert.

“I hear you are fond of walks, Cousin Celia,” said a voice behind Celia. Celia turned to see the handsome face of Scott Bannister, who had quietly moved from where he was and had taken the seat next to her. He seemed eager to engage her in conversation under the sounds of singing.

Scott had been away in London since that first time she had met him and had only returned the night before. There was a dancing light in his grey eyes. He was very attractive and there was a carefree, engaging air about him. He seemed determined in spending a long time in conversation with her and Celia felt flattered and somehow relieved that her mind would be kept from Robert and the worry and guilt that usually accompanied thoughts of him.

“I hope I may be allowed two of your waltzes, Miss Meade,” Scott said. “I confess I have thought of nothing else but your smile these past few days.”

Celia ignored the pointed flattery and asked Scott how he had fared in his journey.

“No contretemps,” said Scott, “although I did encounter a disturbance in the outskirts of London. Some scruffy soldiers—the Tenth Regiment, I believe, were encamped there getting ready to head out.”

“What was the disturbance?” asked Celia, interested.

“I believe it concerned their wages. I hear the enormous cost of the war still has repercussions and some of the troops were restless. They want to be pampered, even after there’s nothing left for them to do.”

“I hope their wages are forthcoming,” said Celia. She remembered how differently Lord Merrick had mentioned the soldiers’ problems and how sorry he was to be pulled away from his work with the government by his father’s illness.

“Nothing to worry, Miss Meade. Certainly the soldiers’ wages are not our concern and they do make a fuss for everything.” Scott moved a bit closer. “May I beg a promise of the first and last waltz?”

“Yes, of course,” said Celia, thinking that at least those two dances would be secured. Caroline was jealous of introducing her friends to the Meades and she would at least not appear the wallflower.

For a while she was distracted by Scott’s talk. But he seemed to take nothing in life too seriously. Even the dire circumstances of the nation’s troops seemed of little consequence to him.

Celia listened to him, for at least it would keep her eyes from turning to the spot where Robert was.

She became so absorbed in conversation with Scott that she did not notice that Robert gazed at her from across the room and that Caroline, noticing this, placed herself smack between him and the sight of Celia and began a lengthy conversation with him.

Celia let herself be pulled away from the strife that thoughts of Robert brought her and it was on that very same evening that she realized that her love for Robert grew by the minute and she was helpless to stop it.

* * *

It was irresponsible behavior, she told herself that night as she tried in vain to fall asleep. She was risking the very survival of her mother, brother and sister. It was not just balls and clothes for Bella and friends and a very different environment for Fred that were at stake here. Their lease had not been renewed on the modest house they had rented. Their bills and their meager income had parted ways many years ago and they barely eked out a living. They had lived the last week before coming here on the bounty of Mrs. Bundy. But they could not continue to live at her expense, however much the kind lady would press them to.

Where would they be now if Uncle Worth had not answered her plea?

A shiver went through her at the thought of how close they had been to being out on the street. How long would they have lasted, going from parish to parish where the poor were allowed a few days and nights? How long would her mother and Bella go this way before breaking down altogether? She knew herself well enough to know that she could survive as a servant should it have come to that and that Fred would likewise be adaptable. But Bella and her mother were not made of such stern stuff. She knew them well enough to know that their spirit and their bodies would be broken and their health would follow.

She had made a promise to Uncle Worth and there was no avenue open to her except to keep her promise, no matter how much it hurt. She must back away from Lord Merrick, for it was a love that had no future. Better now while she still had the strength and determination to stay away from him and from thoughts of him.

* * *

Celia’s and Bella’s ball gowns, paid for by Uncle Worth, had been delivered by the seamstress the day before the ball and now lay in tissue, looking mysteriously glamorous in their boxes. Again and again Bella exclaimed in wonder at her lovely white dress and donned it half a dozen times, while her mother sat before her and exclaimed in admiration.

They spent the afternoon in such happy preparations, doing and redoing Bella’s hair, poring over her dance card which already had two spaces filled in by Jack Longard’s large scrawled name, and experimenting hair arrangements, with perfume and a touch of salve for Bella’s lips. They also perused on Bath’s newspaper, for the forthcoming ball had been mentioned and many guests were to be from Bath, which was just a few miles away from Rook’s End.

But Celia, after a wistful glance at her peach gown of shot silk with embroidered sleeves, the most beautiful dress she had ever owned, took her sketch book and escaped to the woods. The thought of the ball left a bittersweet taste in her mouth and she wished it was the day after the ball already, with the ball safely over.

How was she to spend several hours in the same room with Robert, whom she had not seen for the past ten days? How would she react at sight of him? How was she to successfully hide her feelings so that Caroline would not run to her father and again accuse Celia of trying to take Lord Merrick away from her? These questions churned in her mind and tormented her constantly.

She had seen a lot of Scott Bannister the days after that afternoon, for he had called almost every day, but she had seen nothing of Lord Merrick. Then she heard that he had left for London and would return in time to attend the ball. She donned her cape and boots and went off to the wood.