A Lucky Star Read online

  “Bien sur, and now, another gown for you.”

  Just then Linette poked her head around the curtain.

  “Anthea,” she whispered. “I have just had the most exciting notion. What if you were to come to Italy and be my chaperone? Do you think that would be possible?”

  Anthea giggled.

  “Linette, you are a mind reader! I was about to suggest the very same thing.”

  “My carriage has arrived and I must go to another appointment, but are you free later, say in an hour or so?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Can you meet me in the restaurant at Fortnum’s? We can have tea and discuss this matter further. Say you will – please, say you will!”

  “I will be there. Half-past three it is!”

  Linette hugged herself ecstatically as she left the changing room.

  Anthea felt incredibly light – as if she could fly.

  The assistant brought a primrose-yellow dress with oyster coloured lace that Anthea thought would be perfect for the Italian climate, so she bought that as well, along with a matching pelisse for the evenings.

  By the time she was finished at Monsieur Henri’s, it was almost a quarter past three.

  Hurrying outside she found her carriage waiting for her and jumped into it.

  “Fortnum and Mason’s,” she ordered, feeling really deliciously wicked for not going straight home.

  *

  Her heart was beating wildly as she took the tiny lift in Fortnum’s. As it stopped at the fourth floor, she got out and looked around for Linette.

  “Excuse me, madam, are you, by any chance, Lady Linette’s friend?”

  A waiter dressed in a black frock coat came up to her almost as soon as she had stepped out of the lift.

  “Why, yes.”

  “Follow me. Her Ladyship is looking out for you.”

  The waiter led her to a table by the window where Linette was already studying a large trolley of cakes.

  “Mmm, shall I have lemon cake or the chocolate?” she pondered, one finger in her mouth like a small child.

  Anthea could not help but smile.

  Linette was no more than a child after all and seemed very young for her age despite mixing with adults so frequently.

  “Chocolate,” answered Anthea firmly.

  “Say you have thought it over and you will come to Italy,” implored Linette, a small frown creasing her lovely young brow. “I have quite set my heart on it!”

  She pouted as she spoke and dipped her head shyly.

  “I would love to,” exclaimed Anthea, as the waiter hovered over their takes.

  Linette leaned over and squeezed Anthea’s hand.

  “I am certain that Papa will be thrilled when I tell him not to bother with the agency.”

  “When do we leave?”

  “Oh, promise me that you will not go back on your word when you hear – ”

  Linette hesitated before continuing,

  “Papa’s ship sails next Monday from Portsmouth.”

  “Goodness me! That soon?” cried Anthea, putting down her teacup. “I had not thought – ”

  “Please say you will still come,” entreated Linette. “I don’t think I could bear it if you do not!”

  Anthea stirred her tea and thought.

  If the ball was on Saturday evening, then, it would mean leaving London on Sunday evening –

  “Very well,” she said after a lengthy silence. “But are we to travel down to Portsmouth together?”

  “Of course. Papa will let us use his fastest horses and his best carriage. We shall meet him in Portsmouth, as he will already be there with his ship.”

  “There is something crucial I must confide in you, however,” added Anthea quietly. “It would be very unfair to keep you in the dark – I shall be running away.”

  “Goodness! From your family?”

  “I will tell you the story on the trip, but briefly Papa has remarried and my stepmother has made it clear that she wishes to be rid of me. However, her plan is to marry me off to the first man who offers for me. The reason I was at Monsieur Henri’s today was to buy a new gown for a ball at the weekend. The express purpose of which is to parade me to the various unmarried gentlemen she is inviting.”

  “But they could be ancient. Older than Papa even!”

  “Quite so. I was beside myself wondering how I was to evade her little plan and now you have offered me the perfect solution.”

  “Then, we are both happy. Now, drink up Anthea, I must go home as soon as possible to let Papa know that I have engaged my very own chaperone. He will think me terribly clever for doing so – all on my own!”

  Linette smiled as she put a forkful of cake into her delicate mouth and Anthea felt a thrill run through her.

  The plan was a daring one and Anthea hoped that Linette’s father would not present too many objections.

  ‘After all,’ she pondered, ‘Linette has only just met me and cannot possibly know if I am of good character. She only has her instincts to guide her. And what if she tells him that I am running away? What if her father knows my stepmother?’

  Brushing aside these worries, Anthea finished her tea and Linette paid for both of them.

  ‘Italy!’ Anthea said to herself, as the two girls parted company. ‘Naples! I was so disappointed that we had to forgo our trip there in the summer and now I am to return.’

  She could not wait to go home to begin plotting her escape. Even before the carriage had turned into Mount Street, she had planned to pack a trunk and hide it in one of the guest bedrooms.

  ‘Stepmother shall not have her own way this time,’ she thought, as she walked up the steps of the house. ‘And if Papa thinks so little of me to allow me to be packed off with the first available man, he will not miss me at all.’

  She could hardly wait to put her plan into motion as she ran upstairs – her head swimming with excitement and trepidation.

  *

  She was very much the dutiful daughter that week – even her stepmother remarked on the change in her.

  “I am so glad that you are seeing things my way,” she commented on the evening of the ball.

  “If I suggest that a certain gentleman asks you to dance, then you should understand that you must make a very great impression upon him. I will expect you to be at your most charming and attractive. Is that clear?”

  “Of course, Stepmother,” answered Anthea, as the new maid busied herself around her.

  Anthea was wearing her new gown from Monsieur Henri’s and was suitably gratified when Lady Preston had pronounced that she looked ‘utterly charming’.

  Later, at the foot of the stairs, when her father first set eyes upon her, she could see them well up with tears and for a second a shadow of his old self flickered back.

  “You look beautiful, Anthea,” he sighed quietly.

  Anthea moved to kiss him, but he turned away and moved smartly down the hall before she could do so.

  It stung like a whiplash to have him snub her so.

  But holding her head up and fixing a firm smile on her lips, she walked quickly into the drawing room.

  The servants had cleared out the dining room and opened up the doors between it and the drawing room next door to create a huge ballroom.

  Anthea could not recall the last time such a grand event had been held in the house.

  As one boring man whirled her around the room after another, all Anthea could concentrate on was the trunk upstairs and her carpet bag for the journey ahead.

  ‘The new maid is so dozy, she will not realise that half of my clothes have disappeared,’ she said to herself, as Algernon Trotwood stood on her toes for the fourth time.

  Algernon was about forty and one of the gentlemen that her stepmother had earmarked as a possible husband for her. He smelled of cobwebs and musty clothes and his hand was hot and clammy as he held hers.

  And then there was Daniel Beauchamp – more her own age, being around twenty-eight, but who hel
d her far too tightly during the polka and who wrenched her closer each time she tried to pull away.

  At every stage she was aware of her stepmother’s watchful gaze, so she smiled and chatted amiably, in spite of longing to run away and hide in her room.

  As the orchestra struck up a waltz, Daniel clutched her to him as if he was drowning, and Anthea, feeling sick to her stomach, simply smiled.

  ‘The sooner I get away from this house and these dreadful men, the better,’ she murmured to herself.

  ‘If I had any doubts at all about this wild plan then tonight has made my mind up. Tomorrow I will slip away with Linette and I shall be on my way to Italy.’

  As she smiled at that thought, Daniel Beauchamp was already rehearsing his proposal speech in his head –

  CHAPTER THREE

  The next morning although she was awake at half past eight, Anthea lay in bed until almost eleven o’clock.

  As she stared at the blue ceiling, she was filled with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety.

  The ball had been a big success for her stepmother, although Anthea was a little disappointed that none of her own friends had been able to attend.

  Anthea’s toes still hurt from Algernon Trotwood’s clumsy exertions and she noticed that one of her big toes was quite bruised.

  ‘Oh, bother,’ she thought. ‘I shall have to be extra careful not to drop any luggage on my foot if I want to be able to hurry along without hobbling.’

  Dismissing her new maid, Anthea got up and went to check on the trunk that she had made two of the footmen take downstairs the day before.

  She had told them that it contained old clothing and she wanted it removed to the coach house.

  Tiptoeing gingerly along the corridor and down the backstairs, Anthea soon found herself in the rarely used guest quarters at the back of the house.

  She was pleased to see her trunk by the door.

  ‘Good,’ she said to herself. ‘Now all I have to do is to get Fricker and one of his footmen to carry it outside.’

  She crept back to her bedroom via the backstairs, hoping that she would not bump into any of the servants.

  ‘They will most likely still be clearing up after the ball,’ she reckoned, as she slid back into her room.

  Anthea could not wait for the day to pass.

  She had a bath, dressed herself, and then made her way downstairs. Her stepmother was in the morning room and her face broke into a rare smile as Anthea entered.

  “Ah, at last!” she simpered. “The belle of the ball has deigned to honour us with her presence.”

  It took Anthea a moment to realise that she was not being ironic but was genuinely happy to see her.

  “Would you care for some coffee? Fricker has just brought in a fresh pot and I can ring for another cup.”

  “Yes, thank you,” replied Anthea, sitting down in a chair near her with a wary air.

  Lady Preston rose and pulled the servants’ bell.

  “How are you this morning?” she enquired.

  “Quite well, thank you. A little fatigued. Algernon Trotwood is quite the clumsiest dancer ever.”

  “Yes, he is a little ungainly, but never mind him – so what impression did you gain of Daniel Beauchamp? He is a fine young man with a great deal of land and wealth. His estates in Suffolk are pretty extensive. He is not Nobility, you understand, but his father is a Member of Parliament and he is a most eligible gentleman.”

  Anthea thought carefully before answering, because she did not wish to spoil her stepmother’s good mood, as it could be beneficial to keep her that way.

  “I like him well enough,” she muttered.

  “He was very taken with you! In fact he is having luncheon with us today. He was so very insistent on seeing you again that I did not see the point in keeping him waiting.”

  “Oh,” she answered, taking the cup Fricker had just handed to her.

  “Do try and be a little more enthusiastic, Anthea.”

  “I am sorry, Stepmother, I must be more fatigued than I had at first believed.”

  “Then the coffee will restore you. Do change for luncheon, Anthea, the rose silk is most becoming on you.”

  Anthea thought quickly.

  ‘The rose silk dress is in my trunk! Goodness me! What shall I say?’

  She made a show of drinking her coffee before then replying,

  “Stepmother, should I not wear the dress that was delivered yesterday morning from Monsieur Henri’s? It is a very fashionable primrose-yellow silk with oyster lace.”

  “Excellent idea. The colour will suit you very well and it will flatter Mr. Beauchamp no end if he believes that you have made a special effort for him.”

  Inwardly Anthea sighed with relief.

  “I shall ask Maisy to press it for you at once,” said Lady Preston, rising again to ring for Fricker.

  Anthea attempted a weak smile and sat in silence whilst her stepmother chattered about the evening’s events.

  She became uncharacteristically talkative and, after a while, Anthea sought to take her leave as there was the matter of her trunk to attend to.

  “If you will excuse me now, Stepmother, I shall go upstairs and begin to get ready. I assume Mr. Beauchamp will be here at, what, half-past twelve?”

  “Of course, my dear, and don’t rush down until you hear the gong. A little anticipation will not harm him. Far from it – to keep him waiting will increase his ardour.”

  ‘Ugh!’ thought Anthea. ‘I shall have to swallow my true feelings and not give any hint of my distaste for him.’

  Lady Preston yawned as Anthea rose to leave.

  “Oh, you must excuse me. I do believe I shall have to have a nap after luncheon. Perhaps you would entertain Mr. Beauchamp for me?”

  “Of course,” responded Anthea, saving her grimace until she had closed the door behind her.

  Before luncheon she wrote a note to Linette, asking her to meet her in the Mews behind the house at half-past nine that evening and handed it to Fricker, charging him to have it delivered at once.

  “And don’t breathe a word to my stepmother,” she cautioned him. “And, there is a large trunk of old clothes downstairs, could you have it taken to the coach house?”

  ‘Very good, miss,” he smiled and she could tell that he was pleased to be in complicity with her.

  ‘It is obvious that he does not care for Stepmother, either,’ she thought gleefully as she closed the door.

  She noticed that the box in which her primrose-silk dress had arrived was lying open on the bed.

  ‘Maisy must have taken it to press it,’ she thought with some satisfaction. ‘I shall have to wear it this evening and put my cashmere coat over the top to keep me warm.’

  Her bath was already run, so she jumped in, washed her hair and face, wondering what might lie ahead.

  As Maisy was helping her dress, she heard the front door bell and Fricker answering it. Glancing at the clock, she noticed that Daniel was a few minutes early.

  ‘He is very keen,’ she sighed mournfully.

  Five minutes later she descended the stairs slowly and entered the drawing room.

  Daniel Beauchamp’s face lit up as he saw her.

  “Astonishing,” he murmured, as he bent and kissed her hand. “You are even more beautiful than you were last night and I did not think it possible.”

  “The dress is so becoming,” added her stepmother approvingly.

  As they chatted for a while, Anthea was conscious of Daniel’s hot eyes upon her. He made her feel distinctly uncomfortable.

  When luncheon was finished, on cue Lady Preston made a great show of stifling a yawn and then, announced,

  “Anthea, my dear, as I am so tired after last night’s ball, would you mind if I disappeared upstairs for a little lie-down? Mr. Beauchamp, I am certain that I can leave you in my stepdaughter’s capable hands.”

  With a ghastly smile she left them alone.

  In the silence that followed, Daniel blurted out,<
br />
  “I was thinking perhaps we might go for a walk.”

  “Of course,” Anthea replied, ringing for Fricker. “I shall have our coats brought at once.”

  *

  She and Daniel emerged from the front door of Mount Street shortly afterwards. The day was overcast and it looked as if rain was threatening.

  Anthea was desperately hoping that the heavens would open up so that they could return home – and that Daniel would take the hint and leave.

  “Perhaps a turn round Berkeley Square?” he asked, offering her his arm.

  She took it gingerly and tried not to allow him to pull her too close, as he had done the previous evening when they were dancing.

  He was not at all a good-looking man – being short and round with a curious ginger moustache. His hair was a nondescript brown and his mouth drooped in a manner that reminded Anthea of a codfish.

  ‘I do so hope that none of my friends see me,’ she thought, rather uncharitably, ‘it would be awful if someone was to see us together and assume we were intimate.’

  She was hoping too that Fricker had remembered to have her trunk removed to the coach house.

  Daniel suddenly cut directly into her broodings.

  “There is to be a large house party in Cheltenham next weekend, Anthea. Would you care to join me?”

  Anthea stopped abruptly on the pavement. She had been so deep in thought that she had not been listening to a word that Daniel Beauchamp was saying.

  He was regarding her with a quizzical expression – awaiting some kind of reply.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she replied after a little while. “Stepmother is always organising things for me to do and I shall have to ask her. May I write and let you know?”

  “Of course,” agreed Daniel, a little too eagerly.

  They arrived at Berkeley Square dodging the many carriages hurtling around the area.

  Anthea lifted her skirt, anxious that the wet should not soil the delicate silk.

  ‘Oh, why did I not change?’ she grumbled, as she noticed that a recent shower had made the green muddy.

  Thankfully the pavements were dry as long as she walked in the middle of them.

  Unfortunately this meant that Daniel was forced to walk closer to her side.

  ‘I shall just have to put up with him,’ she thought stoically, as they promenaded into the fashionable square.