Rags-to-Riches Bride Read online

  ‘Indeed I do. Quite a transformation. You are a lucky dog, Stephen. That is, if you can persuade her to forgive you, because she has certainly not forgiven me.’

  ‘Forgive me for what?’

  ‘Stop it, both of you,’ she said. ‘I do not like conversations being carried on about me as if I were not in the room.’ She paused to gather herself. ‘Nor do I like them going on behind my back either.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Stephen said. ‘It is Richard you are angry with.’

  ‘And you,’ she said. ‘Now let us say no more about it or we shall be out of sorts with each other the whole way through the ball.’

  Stephen smiled. ‘Of course. I am really looking forward to this evening, so we will not mar it by quarrelling.’

  Mr and Mrs Harecroft came into the room and added their compliments on Diana’s appearance before they made their way out to the carriage.

  The Almack’s ballroom had been decorated with bunting and Union flags and its many pillars swathed in greenery and flowers. A large picture of the Queen draped in red velvet stood on an easel on the platform next to the musicians. The room was crowded and noisy and the Harecrofts were soon greeting friends and acquaintances and introducing Diana as a friend of the family. Diana noticed she was attracting some strange looks and wondered why. Could it be her dress? Was it too splendid for someone in her position? She tried to hide herself behind Mrs Harecroft, but Stephen winkled her out.

  ‘Dance with me, Diana,’ he said, holding out his hand to her.

  She allowed him to take her onto the floor. He danced well, if a little stiffly, but she had made up her mind to enjoy herself and so she relaxed and answered him cheerfully when he repeated how well she looked and he had been quite right in saying he would be proud to have her on his arm as his wife. ‘Do not assume I am going to accept you,’ she said, making herself sound light and teasing. ‘You must suffer a little longer.’

  ‘But you have forgiven me for taking you away from Mrs Beales?’

  ‘Not altogether. When I have found somewhere else to live, I might.’

  ‘But, Diana…’

  ‘We will not talk about it tonight.’

  ‘Very well.’ He stopped speaking as they executed some steps that took them away from each other. When they met again, he said, ‘Great-Grandmama has said you have agreed to go to Borstead Hall for the whole week before the party.’

  ‘Yes. I am going to help your great-aunt with the arrangements.’

  He grinned. ‘I knew you would agree in the end.’

  ‘I was not given much choice.’

  ‘Oh, dear, I thought we were not going to talk about that. You are breaking your own rules.’

  ‘I will not say another word on the subject.’

  ‘I shall miss you at work.’

  ‘Are you not going down too?’

  ‘No, I cannot leave the business for a whole week. I shall come down with my father on the Friday evening before the party.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  They danced on in silence while she contemplated the prospect of being at Borstead Hall without him.

  ‘They look very well together, do they not?’ Mrs Harecroft said to her husband. They were sitting side by side where they could survey the dance floor. Richard was standing behind her chair.

  ‘Yes, they do,’ John said. ‘I hope this visit to Borstead Hall will do the trick.’

  ‘What trick?’ Richard asked. Though he spoke to his mother, he did not take his eyes off the couple as they danced, apparently in animated conversation.

  ‘Why, the engagement, of course,’ his father said. ‘It is time Stephen settled down with a wife and Miss Bywater will undoubtedly be an asset. I thought so before, when she proved she had a good grasp of the business, but tonight she has shown that she can display well too. Out of her working garb she is lovely. Everyone will envy him.’

  ‘But you know so little about her,’ Richard said.

  ‘I think I know enough. Besides, a week at Borstead will soon tell us whether she will fit into the family.’

  ‘And if she does not?’

  ‘Then, of course, we shall have to dispense with her services. And I should be sorry to have to do that.’

  ‘It is time you settled down too, Richard,’ his mother put in, while he digested his father’s words. ‘You are your father’s heir and ought to make a good marriage, someone with some lineage. I could introduce you to one or two suitable young ladies…’

  ‘No, thank you, Mama. When the time comes, I shall choose my own wife.’

  ‘Before you do, you must rid yourself of your disreputable friends,’ she added. ‘They give quite the wrong impression. Any well-bred young lady seeing them will undoubtedly be put off.’

  ‘Not if she loves me.’

  ‘Pah!’ his father said, to which his son had no answer.

  The dance concluded and Stephen and Diana rejoined them. Diana had a little more colour in her cheeks than she had of late, and her eyes sparkled. Richard found himself admiring her all over again. At first it had been her courage in adversity, her pride in her job and her loyalty to her father that had attracted him, but tonight it was her beauty, her slim figure, her animation, the graceful way she moved. Could someone so lovely hide a cunning mind? And if she was as straightforward as she seemed and there was no guile in her, she was in for a dreadful shock.

  He smiled and held out his hand to her as the musicians began to play a waltz. ‘My turn, Miss Bywater.’

  She took his hand and he led her on to the floor. She was immediately transported into another world, a world where there was no sickness, no poverty, no homelessness, no anger. It was a world of music and dreams, sunshine and sweet-smelling flowers. There were no yesterdays, no tomorrows, only the present and that was magical. There was no need for words. Words would spoil it, because words between her and Mr Richard Harecroft were nearly always either acrimonious or mocking and she did not want to break the spell. It was only when the dance ended and she was once again sitting beside Mrs Harecroft that she realised how foolish she was being. There was nothing between her and Richard and never could be. It was time to be sensible. She gave Stephen one of her most winning smiles as he asked for the next dance.

  After that she danced with other young gentlemen to whom she had been introduced, and once with Mr John Harecroft, who took the opportunity to tell her how well she looked and how he was happy for her to go to Borstead Hall for a week to help his Aunt Alicia with the party.

  ‘I have agreed to go on that understanding,’ she said. ‘I am an employee.’

  ‘Of course. No doubt my aunt will keep you busy, but a word of advice. Avoid the dower house.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘My son’s friends are a strange crowd, hanging on to his coat tails like leeches. I am hopeful they will tire of that and leave him in peace, but until they do, we give the dower house a wide berth.’

  ‘Lady Harecroft seems not to mind.’

  ‘My grandmother is very old, Miss Bywater and her judgement is sometimes at fault, especially where Richard is concerned. Now, I think I have said enough.’

  He had said enough to whet her curiosity, not enough to convince her of anything except that he did not approve of his elder son. It seemed such a pity. Was it that which had made Richard such a strange mixture of caring and uncaring?

  They went into supper and afterwards Diana danced again with Stephen and then again with Richard. She was tempted to ask him what his father had meant about the dower house, but decided it would only widen the rift between father and son and desisted.

  Long before the ball ended in the early hours of the morning, she was exhausted. It was not only the dancing, but the worry over her father, the lack of sleep, and the constant pressure being put on her by the Harecroft family, that contributed to it.

  ‘You poor thing,’ Richard murmured as they danced a minuet. Stephen was dancing with the daughter of one of his mother’s friends. ‘You are done i
n, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, it has been a long day.’

  ‘You are not going to work tomorrow, are you?’

  ‘Of course. It is Saturday, but I leave off at two.’

  ‘And then you will hurry to St Thomas’s.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I would take you, but my great-grandmother wants me to take her back to Borstead Hall tomorrow.’

  ‘So Stephen said.’

  ‘I shall see you when you come down.’

  ‘Perhaps. I expect to be kept busy, and if you live at the dower house…’

  He laughed. ‘I have no doubt you have been told about my disreputable friends.’

  ‘Are they disreputable?’

  ‘Certainly not. They are simply trying to make an honest living.’

  ‘As everyone must.’

  ‘True. Each in his own way. My friends are artists.’

  ‘And you write.’

  ‘I try, but I cannot say I earn a living at it. I do have money of my own. One day, perhaps, I will make my mark.’

  ‘You encourage each other perhaps?’

  ‘Yes, we do.’

  ‘Is that why you live at the dower house, because they encourage you to be yourself?’

  ‘You may be right,’ he said, noting again how perceptive she was. He needed to be careful what he said; she seemed able to divine his meaning from a very few words. ‘But I am not there all the time. Great-Grandmama likes me to dine with the family, so I expect to see you then.’

  ‘I am not sure I shall be dining with the family.’

  ‘Of course you will. Where else would you dine? I shall look forward to it.’ He surprised himself because he found he meant it. And therein lay danger. Perhaps a week away from her might settle him, might curb his temptation to tell her everything when he had promised Stephen he would not. It was difficult being the custodian of other people’s secrets. He had plenty to keep him occupied. There was his campaign over poverty and child labour, which he shared with Edwin Chadwick and Ashley Cooper, as well as arranging a venue to exhibit his boarders’ works of art and trying to find a publisher for his book, not to mention his hopes of finding a seat in the House of Commons. So far nothing had come his way.

  No one in the family knew what he was doing and he remained, as far as they were concerned, the black sheep, someone who would not toe the line, someone who entertained people of whom his parents disapproved, the outcast. He had not minded that, had taken a certain perverse pride in letting them think the worst of him, while Stephen enjoyed their favours and could, in their eyes, do no wrong. But matters were changing and Stephen must be made to see where his best interests lay. He had said as much to him and been told to mind his own business. But someone was going to be hurt. And badly.

  ‘I have never known you so silent,’ Diana said. ‘What are you thinking of?’

  He could not tell her. Instead he said, ‘About how much I am enjoying dancing with this newly emerged butterfly.’

  ‘Was I such an ugly caterpillar before?’

  ‘No, far from it, but a butterfly is a delicate creature; one must not hold it too tightly for fear of damaging it. One must let it fly free. Are you a butterfly, Miss Bywater, flitting from flower to flower, sipping the nectar and moving on? Or are you constant?’

  She smiled. ‘You are talking in riddles.’

  ‘That’s better,’ he said, ‘you know, you are even more beautiful when you smile.’

  ‘Am I?’ She had never thought of herself as beautiful and the compliment took her by surprise.

  ‘Yes. Surely Stephen has told you that over and over again.’

  ‘I cannot say that he has.’

  ‘Then he is an insensitive oaf.’

  ‘No, he is not, it’s just that he is not like you…’ Her voice faltered and faded away. She should not be talking about Stephen to him; it sounded disloyal and comparisons were unfair.

  If his questions had been meant to discover more about her, whether she loved Stephen enough to stay with him for better or worse, they achieved nothing. She was clever enough not to be drawn into an argument.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘But we are alike in one thing—we can appreciate a beautiful woman when we see one.’

  There was no answer to that and they finished the dance in silence and he returned her to his mother.

  Soon after that, the evening was brought to an end and they returned to Harecroft House. All the way home Diana wondered what he had meant about the butterfly flitting and being constant. Did he mean she was given to whims and fancies and was unreliable? Did he think that she would not be a faithful wife to Stephen if she married him? But what grounds had he for thinking that? She was still musing on it when she bade them all goodnight and went to her room. By the time she was ready for bed, she had decided to have it out with him and demand to know what he meant.

  She was not afforded the opportunity. He did not appear before she and Stephen left for work the next morning and when they returned in the afternoon he and his great-grandmother had gone.

  Her life fell back into routine of work, visiting her father and returning to Harecroft House to sleep. Without the old lady and Richard, some of the life seemed to have gone out of the place; the sun seemed not to reach the corners of the rooms and Mrs Harecroft rarely smiled. She found herself beginning to look forward to going to Borstead Hall and began altering more of her mother’s dresses. Mr Harecroft, guessing she might need to do some shopping, had given her an advance on her wages that enabled her to buy two gowns in a small shop in a side street—one a forest green jaconet and the other a printed cotton in yellow-and-white stripes—which together with the dresses of her mother’s she had altered would be sufficient for her needs, considering she was going down there to work, not to enjoy herself, and most of the time she would be in her grey working dresses.

  Her father was to be conveyed to Borstead Nursing Home in an ambulance accompanied by a nurse. Diana had wondered if she might go with him, but Mr Harecroft said Lady Harecroft would send her own carriage to fetch her. ‘The ambulance will travel too slowly,’ he had said. ‘You will go more quickly by chaise on Saturday afternoon and that way will not miss a morning’s work. It is all arranged, you do not have to do anything except pack your belongings.’ He had paused and smiled. ‘And her ladyship bade me to tell you to be sure to take that lovely green gown.’

  And so the two weeks passed and she found herself on the Friday evening visiting her father in St Thomas’s for the last time. He had made great strides, though he was still weak, he could, with a little help, stand out of bed and take a few steps using a walking stick. And his speech had improved immeasurably. She took him some toiletries, a new nightshirt, a dressing gown and a selection of his day clothes in case he felt up to dressing.

  ‘No escort today?’ he queried.

  ‘No. Are you sure you want to go?’

  ‘Of course I am sure. It will do us both good. And you will meet your future family.’

  ‘Papa, I have not accepted Stephen yet.’

  ‘Family is important,’ he went on as if she had not spoken. ‘Marry that young man and you will have a ready-made family, which I never did. Nor did your mama. We only ever had each other and you, when you came along. Our world consisted of three people. I thought that was enough, but I was wrong. Better to have a family to rally round in times of trouble. If we had had a bigger family, we might not have sunk so low and you might not have been burdened with caring for me.’

  ‘I do not begrudge what I do, Papa. It is little enough in all conscience.’

  ‘So you say, but it has been on my mind lately that if I died, you would have no one, no one at all.’

  ‘That is not going to happen for a long time yet,’ she said briskly. ‘You are becoming stronger every day. Now I must go. The next time I see you will be in Borstead.’

  She kissed him and went back to Harecroft House to start packing her own things. In spite of her determination to treat it as
part of her work, she began to look forward with pleasure to a week away from the capital, especially knowing her father was being looked after.

  At dinner that night, Stephen was full of how she would love Borstead Hall and the things they might do together after he had joined her the following weekend. Mr Harecroft talked about the business and asked her to be sure not to allow Lady Harecroft to overtire herself, though how she could make the old lady stop doing whatever it was she wanted to do, she did not know. Mrs Harecroft found it necessary to speak to her of etiquette and what she should and should not wear and how to greet the guests when they arrived which she did not need telling. By the time she went to bed, her head was reeling.

  Returning from work with Mr Harecroft and Stephen the following afternoon, she was surprised to find Richard had come with her ladyship’s carriage. ‘Come to escort you,’ he said. ‘Can’t have you going all that way alone.’

  ‘That is very kind of you, but I could have managed.’ ‘Oh, I do not doubt it, but I had an errand I wanted to do in town, so it fitted in very well. If you are ready, we can set out after luncheon. The journey takes about three hours, so we should arrive in time for dinner.’

  If she had been considered of equal rank she would have had a maid to accompany her, but as she was a lowly employee, no one seemed to bother that she would be unchaperoned. She thanked him again, unsure whether the prospect of spending several hours in his company was something to look forward to with pleasure or trepidation.

  ‘The weather is fine and we should make good time,’ Richard remarked, as they set off just after three o’clock. ‘Are you a good traveller? Oh, but of course you are, you have travelled the world.’

  ‘I would not go so far as to say that, Mr Harecroft. I have been to India and the East Indies and once to the West Indies when Papa’s ships were stationed at foreign ports. He did not like to leave Mama and me behind. He and Mama were devoted to each other, which was why my mother’s death hit him so hard. As did the loss of his arm. I do not know if the navy would have forced him to retire or not—after all, Nelson managed to command a fleet with only one arm—but Mama was afraid it would weaken him and in a rough sea he might be thrown about and be unable to hold on and might even be swept overboard, so he gave in to her pleading and left the service.’