Chapter 12
Auntie Lil swept up the staircase, her eyes narrowed in speculation. She reassessed her niece with shrewd eyes before she answered the question that had burst from her lips. “It was His Majesty the King, darling, and he was definitely interested in you. But if I arrange a liaison, you will have to be a very clever girl to hold his interest more than briefly. Your competition would be formidable. However, it would be a way out of your financial difficulties.”
A little maid brought a breakfast tray with fruit and croissants and chocolate to drink. Lil grimaced at Summer’s healthy appetite. Slowly, between bites, Summer asked, “Do you mean share the King’s bed … for money?”
Lil watched her face carefully as she explained, “An alcove, a bathing chamber, a carriage, or wherever else he decided to have you, not just in bed. When your tail’s for sale, you might as well sell to the highest bidder.”
Summer shuddered. Then slowly she licked the honey from her fingers and asked, “Who was the other man?” She knew she could never land such a big fish as the King, at least not yet She was willing to start smaller.
“Ah, darling, I don’t think you’d be Ruark Helford’s type. His current mistress, Ann Ashley, is like a porcelain doll.”
“Helford?” repeated Summer with great interest.
“Yes, Lord Helford owns that great estate next to yours in Cornwall, though he’s not been near the place in years, I’ll warrant you.”
“Hell and furies, so that’s Lord Helford?” mused Summer in disbelief. “I pictured him a fat, old swine.” She laughed. “’Tis not a week since I wished him a miserable night.” Her eyes narrowed. “When I think of the wealth of the bloody Helfords, it makes my blood run cold. Spider and I have gone hungry for years while the lowest of his servants has lived off the fat of the land.” Silently she told herself he wasn’t actually repulsive, not for a rich man.
“Darling, wouldn’t it be divine justice if you could get your hands on Helford’s money? If you successfully pursued him, it would even the score!”
Summer wasn’t convinced. She said doubtfully, “He looked at me very strangely.”
“How?” asked Lil.
“Like he wanted to devour me,” she said.
“That’s exactly what he might do, darling; he’s dangerous.” Lil could see her grudging reluctance and knew she could only convince her if she presented him as a challenge. “You need a man you can lead by the nose, and though you got only one glance at him, I think you know Ruark Helford couldn’t be led by a woman. Perhaps an older man would be easier to control, someone who wasn’t blessed with Helford’s devastating looks.”
“I wouldn’t call him handsome,” said Summer, tossing back her hair, “though I wouldn’t call him unattractive either.”
“It would take a great deal of cunning to outwit Helford. If you don’t think you could rise to such a challenge, let’s consider another.”
“No-o,” said Summer, narrowing her eyes in anticipation and acceptance, “I think Ruark Helford will fit my plans very nicely.”
“All right, darling, but don’t say I didn’t warn you! I’ll find out what’s going on in his life at the moment.”
“How will you do that?” asked Summer with keen interest.
“My servants will find out from his servants, of course. The household grapevine—a veritable cornucopia of invaluable trivia.”
“This morning I intend to see the man who holds the mortgage on Roseland. I must try to stop him from foreclosing. I will bargain with him for time, but, Lil, I know I would fare much better if I had something decent to wear.”
The maid returned for the tray. “My niece and I will be upstairs in the wardrobe and cannot be disturbed for any reason.” She took Summer’s hand. “Come, darling, I think it’s time you met Dora.”
To Summer’s amazement she discovered the top floor of the fashionable house in Cockspur Street was set aside for clothes. The two wardrobe rooms were presided over by Dora, who had been a wardrobe mistress at the Theatre Royal. She was a small round woman with cheeks like red apples.
Large windows ran across one wall and mirrors across another. No wonder Auntie Lil was always turned out immaculately. By way of explanation Lil drawled, “This inventory is my stock-in-trade, Summer. You’d be amazed that my well-bred young women who know exactly how to act and what to say in society haven’t the slightest idea how to dress. Dora is a treasure; a miracle worker. To keep expenses down she reuses the expensive furs over and over on different cloaks and capes and hoods. The same with the exquisite beadwork and lace panels. Ribbons are the latest fashion imported from France, so by using a few hundred yard of ribbon she’s transformed dozens of gowns.” Without seeming to take a breath, Lil said, “Now, Dora, what do you suggest?”
“Her coloring is so vivid she will look good in almost anything. But of course if it is a spectacular effect you wish, we must pay attention to every detail. If she were being presented at Court, she would be an overnight sensation in flame-colored silk with poppies in her hair.”
“Can’t be done, Dora my dove, technically she’s in mourning.”
“Ah, then we have to be more subtle. Her colors will have to be black and white, any shade of mauve, lavender, or purple … gray is good also. She may wear any color on the street if she is disguised with a black velvet vizard mask … we have many styles.”
Although Summer had never been exposed to fine clothes in her life, with unerring feminine instinct her hand fell on a pale gray velvet cloak edged in soft gray fox. Its lining was amethyst satin. “She has the eye for elegance,” approved Dora. “A gray fox muff goes with that cloak and we shall pin a spray of amethysts to it … just so.”
Summer gasped as the woman opened a many-tiered jewel box and extracted the amethyst pin.
“Glass beads, darling. The trick is to wear them with the confidence of an empress,” explained Lil. “We will keep the furs for later, Dora. This morning we must go to visit the man who holds a mortgage on her estate. She must appear to be a well-bred lady in deepest mourning who has prospects. We must convey the illusion that she will redeem the mortgage if given a little time.”
Dora pursed her lips and nodded her head a dozen times as if she were acknowledging some invisible advice, then she pulled out a cream velvet walking suit with braided black frogs. She chose a high-crowned, cream-colored hat adorned with a black ostrich feather curling down the cheek and under the chin to match the suit exactly, and to finish off the outfit was a pair of black kid gloves, a black fur muff, a black enamel fan, and a black silk handkerchief for the tears.
“How in the name of God will I manage a mask, a muff, a fan, and a handkerchief?”
Lil ignored her. “Dora my dove, she’ll look like the King’s latest mistress. Ah well, I suppose that has its advantages. Summer, you’ll make me look a positive drab. I’m afraid it will have to be the black sable for me.” She caressed the luxurious fur lovingly. “I’m particularly partial to sable,” she cooed.
Dressing became a totally new and exciting experience for Summer. She had never even worn a lady’s hat in her life, so the silken stockings, ribboned garters, and high-heeled shoes astonished her almost as much as the busk, an invention which contorted the female form by reducing the waist and lifting the breasts. The effect might be unnatural, but it was also provocative and alluring and made her breasts swell above the neckline of any gown chosen.
Since she could not manage the muff and fan as well as the long handle of a face visor, she chose instead a simple black eye mask held in place with ribbons tied beneath the saucy hat.
When she was ready, Dora beamed and Lil clapped her hands. “Darling, you amaze me. You look more like you just arrived from Paris than Cornwall! I swear by the time you’ve painted your face for the evening and chosen your patches, you’ll be so addicted to life in London, you’ll never wish to leave.”
A great rush of guilt rose up to almost choke Summer as she pictured poor Spider coping on his own with the barrels of contraband tobacco and almost nothing with which to fill his young belly. Auntie Lil allowed her no time to dwell on her thoughts as she’d ordered her small carriage be readied to take them into the city.
As Summer emerged from her aunt’s house and descended the steps to the street and the waiting carriage, she did not notice the mounted figure of Lord Helford.
Ruark was on his way to the Pool of London, where his ship was being readied for the voyage to Cornwall. He had taken a short detour from the Strand up Cockspur Street for some compelling reason he couldn’t explain to himself. When he spied her followed by Auntie Lil and a footman, the reason became crystal clear to him. “Summer,” he breathed, “Lady Summer.” She was absolutely exquisite!
Solomon Storm, the moneylender, lived in Cheapside in the City of London proper. Ruark Helford followed Lady Richwood’s small carriage down the Strand to Fleet, down Ludgate Hill, and over to Cheapside. He watched Summer emerge from the carriage and head toward where the goldsmiths and moneylenders did a brisk business paying out at a comfortable interest rate of six percent. Since there had been a death in the family, he assumed that Auntie Lil had wasted no time in taking her to collect some of her inheritance.
Reluctantly, he left them to their business and carried on toward Lower Thames Street and the Pool of London.
Solomon Storm ushered the two women into his office, noting with a shrewd eye their elegant clothes. Lil cocked her head on one side to watch Summer. She was ready to jump in the moment the waters threatened to become too deep for the young girl.
“Good morning, I’m Lady Summer St. Catherine,” she drawled in her attractive voice. She handed him a paper and lied without batting an eye. “I’ve come to make arrangements to pay this mortgage and reclaim the property my father squandered.”
“My dear Lady St. Catherine, I am by no means certain I will allow you to redeem this note. As you can clearly see by the date, it is overdue by a few days. With interest it amounts to eighteen thousand pounds, and I could easily sell the note for nineteen to a land speculator who buys and sells country estates.”
She gave a little laugh of disbelief. “Nineteen thousand pounds?” she asked incredulously. “My dear Mr. Storm, the art collection alone is worth more than that. The property adjoins Lord Helford’s, you know, and after the wedding …” Her hand flew to her mouth. “My dear Mr. Storm, I beg you to forget what you just heard. I’m in such an awkward position, you understand, being in mourning, we have to keep the engagement a secret. I can rely on your discretion, Solomon?” she asked intimately. “Let me see if I can explain my position without using names. The Cornwall gentleman will generously buy back my estate for me, but in the meantime I find myself short of funds. Why don’t you add a couple of thousand more to this mortgage, at, say, eight percent for thirty days and I will be able to get on with the sad duty of burying my poor father.” The black silk handkerchief was lifted to tear-drenched eyes while Solomon Storm pursed his lips.
The tears did not move him one iota, he had seen women cry before, but there was something about this particular lady, something indefinable. She would never be defeated, no matter the odds. “Nine percent?” he suggested.
“You drive a hard bargain, Solomon Storm. Nine percent it is!” she drawled flirtatiously.
In the carriage Lil Richwood looked at her with new eyes. “You don’t need to see a play, darling, you’re a better actress than the ones on the stage.”
Summer grinned. “I want to buy my brother some new clothes, do you know of such a shop?”
Lady Richwood directed the coachman to drive to the Exchange. “Summer, you bought a little time and money, but when it’s gone, you’ll be in a fine mess.”
“With enough time and enough money I could change the whole world. With a little time and a little money I should be able to change some things … who knows?” And she gave Lil a secret smile filled with mystery.
They arrived at the playhouse in upper St. John Street after five straight hours of shopping. Summer had walked away with four hundred pounds’ worth of finery by parting with a hundred in cash. The remainder of the bill was to be settled anon.
Inside the theater she was filled with a restless excitement as she closed her nostrils to the overheated smell of the unwashed crowd. She enjoyed the stir she caused by arriving late, not minding at all the men’s frankly assessing stares or the drop-dead looks from the women. There was so much to see all at once that she had to absorb it a little at a time.
Velvet curtains had been drawn aside to display a small stage with painted scenery screens and tall lighted wax candles which illuminated the stage like a picture in the darkness. It did not take long for her to realize the audience was more important than the play. A buzz of conversation, flirting, and laughter made it necessary for the actors to shout above the noise, and they even occasionally entered into heckling matches or ribald remarks with the audience.
The pit was filled with crowded benches of young men and bizarrely painted harlots. Above was a balcony of small luxurious boxes where ladies and gentlemen of quality had come to be seen. High above was a gallery of cheap seats known as “being up in the God’s” where apprentices thought it their duty to be rowdy and boo, whistle and catcall the entire performance.
During the intermission, pretty girls sold oranges and lemons, drinks and sweetmeats, and Summer was both fascinated and repelled by the scandalous way the men touched and fondled the orange girls. It seemed that the lowest neckline, the highest skirt, the sauciest behavior reaped the most sales.
Summer absorbed it all like a sponge. Though she listened to the play, her eyes again and again strayed to the fine ladies in the audience. She noted their clothes and jewels and hairdos, but mostly she watched their gestures, how they whispered archly and plied their fans and flirted and displayed themselves like peacocks. She could do all that!
By the time she arrived at the Countess of Shrewsbury’s party she had acquired an air of confidence which clearly said, “Here I am, if you’re not looking at me, you’re wasting your time!”
And look they did. Her cloak was the deepest shade of royal purple velvet. She removed it to display a gown the palest tint of mauve, fashionably low cut to display Auntie Lil’s imitation amethysts. Though it was not a costume ball, she had chosen to wear a tiny black lace mask and carried a black lace fan. Because of her mourning, she excused herself from the dancing, but in reality she did not know how to dance one step. Before the end of the evening, however, by paying undivided attention, she knew how to dance a courante, a pavane, a minuet, a saraband, and a pendant gavotte.
Sitting quietly with her features half-concealed made her the center of attention. The men clustered about her and the women whispered. Buckingham was without a mistress at the moment, and he arrived late and spent his time at the gaming tables. Though she did not dance, Summer indulged in cards and she found herself sharing a private joke with Buckingham when at the same moment each realized the other was cheating. Gallantly, he let her win but she withdrew from the gaming and knew instinctively he was a most unsavory man.
Supper also was an education for Summer. The buffet table fairly groaned beneath its load of mutton, capon, beef, jellies, trifles, and syllabubs. The women who partook of the food and drink heartily were by and large boring lumps whose figures had gone to hell long ago. The women whom men paid attention to ate like birds, almost to the point of affectation. A tiny nibble or a sip, then a whole plateful of food was set aside. It was obviously fashionable to pretend no appetite in front of a man. Neither did men indulge in deep or intelligent conversation with the fair sex. Fashionable females tended to fall into two categories. Either they were shallow, sweet, and silly like Frances Stewart or they were practiced voluptuaries such as Barbara Castlemaine and Anna Maria Shrewsbury. The men adored both types but obviously respected neither.
On the carriage ride back to Cockspur Street, Summer rested her elegant new coiffure against the velvet squabs and fingered the tiny black patches stuck to her painted face. In twenty-four hours the world had been opened up and revealed to her. She had become an entirely different person and she had met her victim. Here was her one great chance to save Roseland and even the score with the rich for her life of poverty. She smiled into the darkness. If she went about things in the right way, she might even have some fun to boot—at Ruark Helford’s expense, of course.
Lil Richwood watched her beneath lowered lashes. She had been a total success tonight. Six men had made outright offers for her and four others had made overtures, but Lil wouldn’t have told her for a thousand pounds. There was no way she was going to introduce the beautiful, vibrant girl into the life. It was too tempting, too seductive, and before you came to your senses, it was too late. The name on everyone’s lips would be Lady Summer St. Catherine. She must get her back to Cornwall before she took those first tentative steps down the road to perdition.