Mary Nichols

Mistress Of Madderlea


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made their way, in some trepidation, up the steps and into the front hall, followed by Anne, still half asleep.

      ‘Ladies, ladies, welcome. Come in. Come in. Is that your maid? Tell her to follow the footman, he will show her your rooms. She can unpack while you take some refreshment. I do hope the journey has not tired you excessively.’

      The rush of words ended as suddenly as they had begun and the girls found themselves staring at a dumpy little woman in a mauve satin gown and a black lace cap, who was peering at them through a quizzing glass. Her eyes, small and dark, were almost lost in a face that was as round and rosy as an apple.

      ‘Good evening, Lady Fitzpatrick.’ Sophie was the first to speak. ‘We—’

      ‘No, don’t tell me, let me guess,’ their hostess said, lifting her glass closer to her eyes and subjecting them to individual scrutiny. They were dressed similarly in plain travelling dresses and short capes, though Sophie’s was a dark russet, which heightened the red-gold of her hair, and Charlotte’s was rose-pink. Sophie’s bonnet was dark green straw, trimmed with matching velvet ribbon, and Charlotte’s was a chip bonnet, ruched in pale blue silk.

      Her close inspection completed, her ladyship pointed her lorgnette at Charlotte, who was standing silently trying not to laugh. ‘You are Miss Roswell. I can tell breeding a mile off.’ She turned to Sophie. ‘And you are the country cousin.’

      Charlotte was too busy trying to smother her giggles to contradict her. Sophie dug her sharply in the ribs with her elbow and smiled at their hostess. ‘Why, how clever of you, my lady. I did not think it so obvious.’

      ‘Sophie!’ breathed Charlotte in alarm, but Sophie ignored her and smiled at Lady Fitzpatrick.

      ‘I can see that no one could gull you, my lady. Not that we should try, of course. I am, indeed, Miss Hundon.’

      Her ladyship leaned towards her, cupping a hand round her ear. ‘You must learn to speak clearly, child, it is no good mumbling. I am sure Miss Roswell does not mumble.’

      Sophie realised that, besides having poor eyesight, Lady Fitzpatrick was also hard of hearing. Had Uncle William known that?

      ‘Charlotte, for goodness’ sake, don’t stand there giggling,’ she murmured. ‘Say something.’

      ‘What can I say? Oh dear, Sophie, what have you done? You have landed us in a bumblebath and no mistake.’

      ‘Bath,’ said Lady Fitzpatrick. ‘Of course, you may have a bath. I will order the water to be taken up to your rooms. But first, some refreshment.’ She led the way into the drawing room, where a parlour maid had just arrived with a tea tray which she put on a low table beside a sofa. ‘Now, Sophie, you sit here beside me and Charlotte can sit in the armchair opposite.’

      Charlotte obeyed and then gasped when her ladyship looked askance at her. ‘I meant you to sit beside me, my dear, but it is of no real consequence.’

      Sophie relinquished her seat and motioned Charlotte to take it. ‘My lady, you have misunderstood,’ she said, speaking very precisely. ‘I am Sophie. This is Charlotte.’

      ‘Oh, I see. You know, Mr Hundon spoke very quickly and I did not always catch exactly what he said. So Miss Roswell is Charlotte and Miss Hundon is Sophie, not the other way about. No wonder you were amused.’

      ‘But…’ Charlotte spluttered and then dissolved into the giggles she had been trying so hard to suppress and Sophie found herself laughing. It was the first time for two years that she had really done more than smile a little, and it felt wonderful.

      Lady Fitzpatrick, mistaking the cause of their laughter, allowed herself a rueful smile. ‘I have it right now, do I not?’

      ‘Yes, indeed,’ Sophie said, accepting a cup of tea and sipping it. She knew Charlotte was staring askance at her, but refused to look her in the eye.

      ‘Sophie, whatever are we going to do?’ Charlotte, unable to sleep, had padded along to Sophie’s room in her nightdress. ‘We cannot possibly keep up the pretence.’

      ‘Why not? Lady Fitzpatrick’s mistake is fortuitous and it would be a shame to disillusion her. You said you would like to be in my shoes, so now you may.’

      ‘But, Sophie, Anne and Luke know which of us is which…’

      ‘Oh, I told Anne when she queried why you had been given the best room. I promised her five guineas and assured her she would not be in trouble over it.

      ‘Five guineas! Why, that is a small fortune to her!’

      ‘It would not serve to be miserly. As for Luke, he thought it was a great lark, when I offered him the same inducement.’

      ‘Sophie, I cannot do it, really I can’t. I shall die of mortification when we have to go out and about and meet people.’

      Sophie thrust her conscience firmly into the background. Fate had taken a hand in the matter and made Lady Fitzpatrick make that mistake. It could not and should not be ignored. ‘No one knows us in town and you will manage wonderfully. Wouldn’t you like to play the heiress for a few weeks? It will flush out the fortune hunters and we can have a little fun at their expense. And, who knows, I might even meet that paragon.’

      ‘And when you do?’

      ‘Why, we will confess the truth and the toadeaters will come home by weeping cross and serve them right.’ She paused. ‘Charlotte, say you will do it. At the first sign our ruse is not working, I shall make a clean breast of it, I promise, and I shall say it was all my doing.’ She could see the idea growing on her cousin and pressed home her advantage. ‘Go on, tell me you are not tempted by the thought of playing the lady and having all the eligibles at your feet. You will, you know, because you are very fetching. You will return to Freddie with such a tale to tell, he will be filled with admiration and no harm done.’

      Charlotte laughed and gave in.

      Lady Fitzpatrick’s carriage was old, creaky and scuffed and the unmatched horses leaner than they should have been. It took them safely about town to do their shopping but the image it created was certainly not the one Sophie had in mind. Even though she intended to stay in the background, she wanted Charlotte to shine, for how else were they to flush out the fortune hunters as she had so succinctly put it to Charlotte the night before?

      Mentally she put a new equipage on their shopping list, though that would have to wait for another day; buying gowns for morning, afternoon, carriage rides and balls, not to mention riding habits, bonnets, pelisses, footwear, fans and underwear took the whole of their first day.

      Sophie’s choice of garments, while not exactly dowdy, was certainly not in the first stare of fashion. She chose plain styles and muted colours and let Charlotte be the peacock, encouraged by Lady Fitzpatrick.

      ‘Charlotte, my dear,’ her ladyship said, as the young lady eagerly pounced on a pale-green crepe open gown over a satin slip, while Sophie chose brown sarcenet, ‘I do not wish to scold…do you not think you could be a little more generous towards your cousin? She is to be brought out, too, you know.’

      ‘But Sophie is…’ Charlotte, who had been going to say Sophie held the purse strings and could buy whatever she wanted, stopped in confusion.

      ‘I am quite content, ma’am,’ Sophie said, all innocence. ‘Any man who offered for me must take me as I am. It would be wrong of me to pretend I am of greater consequence than I am.’

      ‘Sophie, Lady Fitzpatrick is right,’ Charlotte said. ‘It will look mean of me, if you do not choose at least one or two fashionable gowns for special occasions.’ Blue eyes twinkling, she added, ‘Please do not consider the cost, you know I can easily afford it.’

      Sophie choked on a laugh; Charlotte was doing better than she had hoped. ‘Very well, but I shall not be extravagant.’

      They returned home with the carriage piled high with their purchases and more to be delivered the following day, all to be paid for on Miss