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  Although Mimosa laughed at herself for thinking so, she had the feeling that he was speaking with complete sincerity.

  The greatest problem, and a very important one according to Lady Barclay, was to decide where and when she should make her first appearance and create the greatest sensation.

  Mimosa understood that, from the many invitations that were now flowing into Park Street, Lady Barclay must decide which one she would accept for herself and her husband, when ‘the friend who is staying with us’ could best appear for the first time.

  This was, of course, Mimosa.

  “What if they don’t want me?” she asked.

  Lady Barclay laughed.

  “You will find that many people will want you once you have dazzled their eyes and you will receive many hundreds of invitations, apart from those sent to my husband and me.”

  Mimosa found it hard to believe her, for she had learnt that not only was Sir Alexander distinguished because of his war record but his wife, who was the daughter of a famous Statesman, was much sought after and admired in London Society.

  Mimosa was very touched to find that they had deliberately postponed entertaining, as they had intended, until Lady Barclay considered her protégée was ready to be launched on what she was determined would be an astonished world.

  “I don’t at all mind staying upstairs while you entertain your friends at dinner,” Mimosa had expostulated. “I shall be quite happy with a book.”

  “You might be, but I should not,” Lady Barclay replied, “and you must allow me, dearest child, to do things my own way. In fact, I am enjoying myself more than I can possibly tell you. As it happens, I love shopping, but I bought myself so many gowns when I was in Paris that I really had no excuse to patronise the shops in Bond Street until you appeared.”

  Jimmy was enjoying himself too.

  Sir Alexander provided him with a fine horse from his stables at the back of the house in Park Street and they rode every morning in Hyde Park.

  “It’s not as good as riding over the Racecourse at Heron Hall,” Jimmy said to Mimosa, “but very very much better than putting up at home with those poor old donkeys, which were all we had to ride!”

  “Things will be much better in the future when we go back,” Mimosa promised. “Sir Alexander has already found two men, either of whom he tells me might well be the manager we are looking for. And, Jimmy, however much fun it is to be here, we must go home sometime.”

  “Yes, I suppose so!” Jimmy agreed, but doubtfully, and Mimosa found herself wondering if he would ever settle down again.

  Because she was obviously worried, Lady Barclay asked her the reason.

  “My dear child,” she said, “do leave everything in my husband’s hands. He has already been talking to me about a Tutor for Jimmy, which is important because I understand that up to now he has only had a Governess, who has now left you, and extra lessons from the Vicar.”

  “That is true,” Mimosa nodded a little uncomfortably, “but I did not like to worry Grandpapa about arranging more when he was so ill.”

  “No, of course not, but Jimmy must be properly taught before he goes to Eton, where your father was. Then he and my husband have already decided that, after he has been to Oxford University, he will go into the Grenadiers.”

  Mimosa clasped her hands together.

  “That is what I have always hoped for – that he would follow in Papa’s footsteps.”

  “That is what he wants, and that is what he shall do,” Lady Barclay said. “And my husband is so happy to have Jimmy with him.”

  She paused before she went on,

  “It has always been a great sadness that we have no children. I feel that Jimmy is the son Alexander never had.”

  “That is wonderful for Jimmy!” Mimosa exclaimed. “Also I recognise that he needs a father.”

  “We think alike, dearest child,” Lady Barclay smiled, “so stop worrying and think about yourself!”

  Mimosa could not say that, if she thought about herself, she thought about the Marquis and that was something she was trying not to do because it hurt her so much.

  She tried to find out without asking directly if the Barclays knew him, but they never mentioned his name, and she had the feeling that the Marquis’s friends would be younger and probably more raffish than those Sir Alexander and Lady Barclay associated with.

  Then finally at breakfast one morning, Lady Barclay opened her correspondence and exclaimed,

  “At last! Now this is the invitation I have been waiting for!”

  “What invitation?” Sir Alexander asked from the other end of, the table.

  “I told you, darling, that I have been trying to decide at which party I would launch Mimosa like a well-built little ship onto the Social ocean!”

  Sir Alexander gave one of his short laughs, but he did not interrupt and his wife went on,

  “I was really hoping that the Devonshires would give a party, as their balls are always better than anybody else’s. But here is an invitation that I think will certainly be the party of the Season.”

  “Who has sent the invitation?” Sir Alexander enquired.

  “Isabella, the Marchioness of Hertford,” his wife replied.

  “Lady Hertford!” he exclaimed. “I understand that she has become most unpopular. In fact whenever she is seen in public nowadays she is hissed by the people!”

  Lady Barclay nodded.

  “Yes, that is true, and that is why the Prince Regent is determined to show his loyalty and devotion to her by giving a special party for her at Carlton House.”

  Sir Alexander raised his eyebrows, but he did not say any more and his wife went on,

  “This is a personal letter to me from Isabella herself, saying how delighted she is that we are in London and asking us to come to the party that His Royal Highness, ‘the dear Prince Regent’, is giving for her personally.”

  “I am not surprised she is grateful to him,” Sir Alexander remarked, “but it only adds to his own unpopularity.” “I know,” his wife replied, “and that is what makes it so touching. But it will be extremely smart and extremely exclusive and that is why I am determined that Mimosa, although it will doubtless infuriate Isabella, shall be the belle of the ball!”

  “At Carlton House?” Mimosa asked.

  “At Carlton House!” Lady Barclay repeated. “What could be a more perfect background for you with all the beautiful treasures it holds, my dear child?”

  From that moment on Mimosa’s head was in a whirl.

  If there was to be a special party at Carlton House, she was quite certain that the Marquis, who she knew was a favourite of the Prince Regent, would be invited.

  As he was in London, it was obvious that he would accept and then she would be able to see him again.

  Because she was in love, her feelings rose and fell alternately, so that she felt her whole body was like a battlefield and she was as nervous as any raw recruit.

  ‘How can you be so foolish as to worry about what will happen when he sees you?’ her common sense told her. ‘He will be good-mannered and charming, but to him you will only be somebody from the past who he has ceased to think about and, after he has shaken hands with you, it is unlikely that he will pay you any further attention.’

  But her heart said,

  ‘He will be there! You will see him! You will be near to if him and feel his vibrations as you felt them before and perhaps for the first time you will see in his eyes the admiration you have longed for.’

  She was intelligent enough to realise that this was just a dream and she laughed at herself for being so childish in thinking that a man’s feelings, one way or another, could be altered by a mere gown.

  ‘He enjoyed making my problem a campaign, a battle in which he was determined to be victorious,’ her common sense continued, ‘but now, as Charles said, the dragons are dead and I am of no further interest to a man like the Marquis who has every woman in London fawning upon him.’

 
She could hear Henson saying proudly what a success his Master was and adding how quickly he grew bored with every new face and was then off looking for another one.

  ‘How can you be so foolish as to keep thinking about him?’ Mimosa asked herself and tried to listen as Lady Barclay said,

  “I am determined, dearest child, that you shall make a brilliant marriage, which, of course, you should do very easily.”

  “I-I have no wish to – marry,” Mimosa replied a little uncomfortably.

  “Nonsense!” Lady Barclay asserted. “Of course you want to marry! You can hardly spend the rest of your life being a nursemaid to your brother and struggling to put his estate in order.”

  She paused.

  Then she said,

  “By the way, Jimmy said something today which my husband thought was very significant.”

  “What was that?” Mimosa asked.

  “He was talking about your woods and Jimmy was saying how he would love to have shooting parties when he grew a little older, like your father used to have when he was a boy.”

  “Jimmy has always wanted that,” Mimosa smiled.

  “He went on talking about the woods and said that one particular one, I cannot remember its name, was very large, but the trees grew poorly because it was all on gravel.”

  Mimosa knew that Jimmy had been thinking about that wood because it was where they had been hidden by their abductors and where, unless the Marquis had found them, they would have been dead by this time.

  Instinctively her hand went down to Hunter, who was lying at her feet, and as she patted him she silently thanked him once again for having tracked them down.

  “You realise why gravel is so important just now?” Lady Barclay asked.

  “I am afraid not,” Mimosa replied.

  “My dear, after such a long war there are a great many houses to be repaired and a great many more to be built and for that the builders require gravel!”

  Mimosa’s eyes lit up.

  “Are you telling me that our gravel is – valuable?”

  “My husband thinks that it might be very valuable because it is so near to London. There is plenty of gravel in the Southern Counties, but because it is some distance away, it costs too much to transport it to where it is wanted.”

  Mimosa clasped her hands together.

  “What a wonderful idea!”

  “That is one possibility my husband will explore and I am sure there are many other ways that the estate can be developed to produce a good income for Jimmy so that he can have everything he wants, which, of course, at the moment is just horses!”

  She laughed before she added,

  “Now that we have disposed of Jimmy, we must think of you and whom you shall marry.”

  “Oh, please – I don’t wish to marry anybody!”

  As she spoke, she realised that, because she was lying, the colour flooded into her face and she only hoped that Lady Barclay did not notice it.

  “Now you are talking sheer rubbish!” Lady Barclay said. “I have every intention of finding you a charming, delightful and very rich husband and, of course, somebody of distinction. With your looks he should at least be a Duke!”

  Mimosa laughed.

  “You are aiming much too high and I am sure that any Duke would want somebody far more important than me – and with a large dowry!”

  Lady Barclay gave a little sigh.

  “Of course, my dearest, it is sad that you are not an heiress, but it would not be fair, would it, if you had both looks and money!”

  Mimosa did not reply and Lady Barclay said cheerfully,

  “We have only to remember the Gunning Sisters who arrived in London so poor that they had only one gown between them! Yet one married the Earl of Coventry and the elder became known as ‘the Double Duchess’ because she married two Dukes!”

  “I don’t want – even one!” Mimosa murmured.

  But she knew as she spoke that Lady Barclay was not listening and, if she told the truth, she wanted a Marquis!

  A Marquis who was so far out of reach that she might just as well say that she wished to marry the Man in the Moon!

  Chapter Seven

  When Mimosa dressed for the party at Carlton House, she thought that Lady Barclay was even more excited than she was.

  Her gown was really beautiful. It had come from the most expensive dressmaker in London and, Mimosa thought, it reminded her of the moonlight on the lake at Heron Hall.

  Of white gauze, it had a silver slip under it that clung to her slim figure.

  There were ribbons of silver that crossed over her breast to fall down her back like a small cascade and were stitched with hundreds of tiny diamantés that looked like the dew on the flowers.,

  There were diamantés too on the little frills of silver lace edging the low neck, which showed the white of her skin and made her look somehow ethereal, as if she was a nymph rising from the waters of a stream.

  Lady Barclay had told her when she put it on,

  “This has always been my dream gown, but it would be too young for me and I could not imagine, dear child, anybody lovelier than you to wear it.”

  “You are so kind,” Mimosa murmured, “and all I am afraid of is that nobody will notice me – and you will be disappointed.”

  Lady Barclay did not argue, but merely smiled and Mimosa thought that no one could have been kinder or have taken more trouble over her.

  There were a great many consultations as to how she should wear her hair, but, when finally it was swept into a mass of curls at the back of her head, Lady Barclay produced four small diamond stars, which the hairdresser arranged skilfully on each side of her face.

  Finally, when she was dressed, Lady Barclay brought her a delicate collet of diamonds which she clasped around her neck.

  “That is my present to you, Mimosa,” she said, “or, if you like, a present to your father for having such a beautiful daughter.”

  Mimosa stared at the necklace in the mirror and tears came into her eyes.

  “You have been – so sweet to me,” she sighed. “I only wish Papa could be here to thank you.”

  “I want no thanks except that you should be the success of the evening,” Lady Barclay replied. “Although I know that the gentlemen will be grateful to me for introducing anything so new and exciting to Carlton House, the women will want to scratch my eyes out!”

  She laughed as she spoke and Mimosa could not help laughing too.

  When they went downstairs to where Sir Alexander with all his decorations and medals on his evening coat was waiting for them, he said when they appeared,

  “I think every man in London tonight will envy me that I am the escort of two such beautiful women!”

  Lady Barclay certainly looked her best.

  In contrast to Mimosa’s white gown, she was wearing one of very pale Parma violet and with it a magnificent tiara of Russian amethysts set with diamonds.

  She also wore a necklace and earrings to match.

  “You look fantastic!” Mimosa cried. “At the same time I feel embarrassed because it is really I who should be wearing mauve instead of you.”

  They had already discussed the fact that Mimosa was in mourning for her grandfather and Lady Barclay had said,

  “It would be ridiculous to present you in the Social world looking like a little black crow and anyway I have always hated mourning. I am sure that your grandfather would not wish you to be in black for him.”

  “That is true,” Mimosa answered. “Grandpapa often said to me, ‘as I am very old, when I die don’t let anyone mourn for me’, and Mama wore mourning for only a very short time and then only on public occasions.”

  She thought that Lady Barclay looked a little surprised at this and she explained,

  “Mama said she knew that Papa was not dead, but simply waiting for her in Heaven. Therefore she was crying not for him but for herself because she longed to be with him.”

  Lady Barclay bent and kissed her.


  “That is the most sensible thing I have heard anyone say for a long time,” she said. “So, dear child, we will ignore anyone who may criticise and, although there is no need to wear bright colours, you look very lovely in white, which is perfectly correct for a young girl.”

  Mimosa knew that the white and silver gown she was wearing tonight had a sophistication that, because it was so expensive and well made, was unlikely to be rivalled by other debutantes, although as Lady Barclay had said, she would not meet any at Carlton House.

  “As I expect you will know,” she told her, “the Prince Regent has always had a penchant for women older than himself and has been devoted to the Marchioness of Hertford for many years. Unfortunately, however, public feeling is now rising against her.”

  When they arrived at Carlton House, Mimosa’s attention was immediately captivated by the building and its contents rather than her fellow guests.

  As she had expected, everywhere she looked she saw exquisite pieces of furniture, many of them from France, and she found herself gasping at the pictures, clocks, carved mirrors, Sèvres china, Gobelin tapestries and countless other treasures.

  There were also especially fine marble busts, bronzes and enormous and breathtaking chandeliers.

  They walked slowly up the staircase to where there were two connecting drawing rooms, before they saw their host and beside him the lady the party was being given for.

  The Prince Regent looked exactly as Mimosa had expected, except that he was even fatter than the caricaturists had depicted him.

  As he smiled at her when she curtseyed to him, she felt at once the impact of his charm and knew that all that had been said about him was not exaggerated.

  “Thank you, Lady Barclay,” the Prince Regent said, “for bringing me such a delightful and lovely addition to my party.”

  He was still holding Mimosa’s hand as he spoke and, as she blushed at the compliment, he repeated,

  “Lovely! Absolutely lovely!”

  It was not surprising that the Marchioness, although she was extremely gushing to her friend Lady Barclay, was very much colder towards Mimosa.