Looking for Love

Chapter One ~ 1803-2

“I am sure you do,” Gilda answered. “London must be very hot and dusty in the summer.”

“’Tis all of that and thick with mud in the wintertime. Good day, miss.”

He grinned at her again before she heard his footsteps going down the stairs and, thinking that Heloise would want her, she hurriedly followed him.

By the time she reached the hall the carriage was driving away and she went into the sitting room with a look of apprehension in her blue eyes.

“I am so very – very glad to see you, dearest,” she said, “but why are you here?”

Her sister had taken off her bonnet and Gilda saw that there was a blue band round her head, while her golden hair curled riotously round her oval forehead.

It was as lovely as the face beneath it and very elegant, as was the gown of white muslin with a high waist and blue ribbons that crossed over her breasts and hung down the back.

“You look lovely – simply lovely!” Gilda said impulsively and Heloise smiled at the compliment.

“I am glad you think so and the reason I am here is to make somebody say to me exactly what you have just said.”

Gilda looked puzzled and Heloise went on,

“I have run away. I have disappeared. But the question is, will he or will he not worry as to what has happened to me?”

Heloise was sitting on the sofa and Gilda sat down on the edge of an armchair opposite her.

“You are talking in riddles, Heloise. Explain to me – tell me exactly what is happening.”

Heloise gave a little laugh.

“It’s quite simple,” she said. “Somehow I have to bring a certain gentleman up to scratch and this is the only way I could think of that has anything original about it!”

“Oh, Heloise, how exciting! And what do you think this gentleman will do when he finds out that you have gone away?”

“That is the question,” Heloise replied. “He was to have driven me to Ranelagh this afternoon. I was to have dined at his house this evening at a dinner party where a great number of people will ask why I am not present.”

“Have you told him you will be here?” Gilda asked.

“No, of course not. How can you be so stupid? I have just vanished into thin air.”

“Oh, Heloise, I think it’s very brave of you.” Gilda cried. “But will your Godmother not tell him where you have gone?”

“I took no chances of his coaxing my address out of her,” Heloise replied. “I left her a note, which my maid will have read to her when she was called this morning.”

Gilda looked puzzled and Heloise added,

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Her Ladyship has an affliction of the eyes that has made her blind.”

“Blind!” Gilda exclaimed. “How terrible! What is wrong?”

“The doctors, who are fools anyway, think it is only a temporary blindness,” Heloise said impatiently, “but her eyes are bandaged so that everything has to be read to her. It is my duty as a rule and a very boring one.”

“I am so sorry for her.”

“Keep your sympathy for me, because I need it. Oh, Gilda, if my desperate gamble does not come off, I shall be in despair.”

“Are you so much in love with – this gentleman?” Gilda asked.

“In love?” Heloise repeated. “That really has little to do with it! I want more than I have ever wanted anything in my whole life to be the Marchioness of Staverton.”

“That is the name of the gentleman you are hiding from?” Gilda asked.

“Yes, of course. Don’t be nitwitted, Gilda! Try to understand what is happening. He has been paying court to me in his own way for over a month. I have been waiting, feeling certain two weeks ago that he intended to propose, but – ”

“What happened?” Gilda interrupted.

“He paid me compliments, he sent me flowers, he has taken me driving and he has given dinner parties for me – ”

She paused before she said impressively,

“He has even on two occasions asked me to dance with him and you have no idea what an honour that was! He hates dancing and I thought then that I had finally caught him. But no, the words I want to hear have never passed his lips.”

Gilda clasped her hands together.

“Oh, Heloise, I can understand how frustrating it must be for you.”

“Very very frustrating!” Heloise agreed. “I have dozens of admirers, really dozens, but none of them measure up to the Marquis.”

“Tell me about him.”

Heloise gave a sigh.

“He is one of the wealthiest men in the Beau Monde. He is a close friend of the Prince Regent. He is a Corinthian and a beau, although he does not like one to say he is. And his possessions, oh, Gilda, I cannot begin to describe them!”

“Why has he not been married before?”

“You may well ask,” Heloise replied. “He has every girl in London at his feet or, if they are marrie women, in his arms!”

Gilda looked shocked and Heloise laughed, but the sound had no humour in it.

“He is not such a fool as to flirt to an unmarried girl, otherwise her father would pretty soon march him up the aisle!”

The way Heloise spoke was sharp and, Gilda thought, unpleasant.

“I expect,” she said a little hesitatingly, “the Marquis has been waiting to fall in love – and that is what he must have done – with you.”

“That is what I thought the moment we first met,” Heloise replied, “but it is taking him a long time to say so, far too long for my liking.”

“And now that you have disappeared you think that he will realise how much you matter to him?”

“That is what I have come here for,” Heloise said. “In fact that is what he must do, damn him!”

Gilda gave a little start.

It was strange and very shocking to hear her sister swear.

However, she was too wise to say so and after a moment she said,

“I am sure, Heloise, it is very remiss of me, but I never asked you if you would like refreshments after your journey.”

“Now that you mention it,” Heloise answered, “I am thirsty. Is there any wine in this benighted place?”

Gilda looked startled.

“There may be a bottle of claret in the cellar. I have really never looked since Papa died.”

“I suppose not,” Heloise retorted. “I cannot imagine you drinking anything but milk or water.”

The way she spoke did not sound like a compliment and Gilda responded,

“There is tea if you would like some.”

“I suppose I shall have to if there is nothing else. But it must be nearly luncheon time. Have you something decent to eat?”

Gilda thought quickly.

“There are eggs, so I could make you an omelette or there is some cold ham that Mrs. Hewlett brought me, which her son who has the farm next door has cured.”

Heloise wrinkled her nose.

“It does not sound very appetising. You had better make me the omelette. If nothing else I suppose that a starvation diet is good for my figure.”

Gilda made no answer to this. Instead she picked up the blue silk travelling cape that Heloise had thrown down on a chair and carried it into the hall.

She hung it up in the carved oak cupboard that contained two of her father’s overcoats and a rather disreputable cloak she wore in the garden when it was cold.

As she hung Heloise’s cape beside them, she was conscious that it exuded a fragrance that she was sure came from Paris.

Then she hurried into the kitchen and started preparing the omelette.

It took her a little time to build up the fire in the stove, which had begun to die down after Mrs. Hewlett had left, to boil a kettle for the tea and then to heat the frying pan for the omelette.

There were three eggs in the larder, which she broke into a bowl, thinking as she did so that she would have to go to the farm to fetch some more for Heloise’s dinner and certainly for her breakfast tomorrow morning.

She was mixing the eggs when Heloise came into the kitchen.

She looked so lovely that for a moment Gilda could only stare at her, thinking that with her fashionably dressed golden hair and her blue eyes she was like the Goddess of Spring.

“It looks just the same,” Heloise commented disparagingly. “I had forgotten how small and shabby the house was. How you can stand it, Gilda, I don’t know!”

“I have had no choice,” Gilda answered. “In fact I have been wondering what I should do, because quite frankly, Heloise, I cannot afford to live even here.”

As she spoke, she saw her sister stiffen and she knew instinctively that Heloise was afraid that she was going to ask her for money.

“What did Papa leave you?” Heloise asked after a moment.

“His pension died with him,” Gilda replied. “If Mama had lived she would, of course, have been entitled to a widow’s pension, but children are not provided for.”

“I expect if they are boys they are expected to earn their own living and if they are girls to get married,” Heloise said. “That is what you will have to do.”

Gilda laughed.

“An opportunity would be a fine thing! The only unmarried man in the village is the Vicar and he is over seventy.”

“If you married him at least you would have some money!” Heloise remarked.

Gilda laughed again, but she had the uncomfortable idea that Heloise was not intending to be funny.

Her sister sat down on a kitchen chair and looked at her.

“You know, Gilda,” she said after a moment, “we are not unalike. If you took a little more trouble with yourself, you might easily attract some country Squire, but that gown you are wearing is a disgrace.”

“I know,” Gilda said humbly, “but the last thing I can afford is clothes and it would be no use being smartly dressed if I have to starve to death.”

“Are things really as bad as that?”

“They are worse.”

Heloise sighed.

“I suppose I could have brought you some of my gowns that I have no further use for. One thing about her Ladyship is that, although she is a bore to live with, she is very generous in wanting me to look my best.”

“Surely she has been very very kind to you,” Gilda said. “After all, it was her idea that you should go to live with her when Mama died.”

There was a moment’s silence.

Then Heloise said,

“Actually, it was mine!”

Gilda put down the fork she held in her hand with a clatter.

“Your idea?” she exclaimed. “Do you mean – are you really telling me – ?”

“I wrote to her,” Heloise interrupted. “She is my Godmother and I saw, as no one else did, that if I lived here in this hole I might as well be buried alive.”

“But – how could you be so – daring?” Gilda asked.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Heloise replied. “I wrote her a pathetic letter, one that would have brought tears to the eyes of a stone image, saying how much I missed Mama, how poor and deprived I was and how Papa did not want me.”

“Oh, Heloise, how could you tell such lies? You know Papa adored you. After all you were the first baby and Mama always said that it was the most wonderful moment of their married life when you were born and they both thought that you were a gift from God.”

“Well, as God was not very generous when it came to the things I wanted,” Heloise replied, “I had to take things into my own hands.”

“You have certainly been very successful about it.”

“It was clever of me, was it not? Actually it is very nice for Godmama to have me with her. She has had to admit to herself that, because I am such a success in London, far more interesting and distinguished people come to the house than if I was not here.”

“But it is still very kind of her to give you lovely clothes and make it possible for you to go to balls and parties. You used to write and tell me about them when you first left.”

“I have had no time to write now,” Heloise said quickly. “There is never a moment when I am not being entertained, fêted and, of course, courted by attractive men.”

“I am not a bit surprised,” Gilda said. “You were always beautiful, but never as beautiful as you are now.”

The note of sincerity in her voice was very touching and Heloise preened herself before she replied,

“You are right, Gilda. I do look my best, but sometimes I get tired when there is a ball every night and so many delightful things to do in the daytime.”

“But how do you manage since her Ladyship is blind and cannot chaperone you?”