Lady Impetuous Read online

  Lady Impetuous

  Wendy Soliman

  Lady Impetuous

  Copyright © Wendy Soliman 2019

  Edited by Perry Iles

  Cover Design by Jane Dixon-Smith

  This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations contained are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance of actual living or dead persons, business, or events. Any similarities are coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any method, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of

  The Author – Wendy Soliman

  This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction fines and/or imprisonment. The e-Book cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this e-Book can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the author.

  Chapter One

  London: Spring 1816

  ‘At last.’ Lady Adela Gantz allowed herself a relieved smile. The travelling chaise that she and her mother had occupied for five interminable days had finally reached the outskirts of London. They stopped at the Islington toll-gate, where a small queue of farm carts had formed. Cattle and geese protested at being herded to market, adding to the mayhem. Their coachman described the delay as a wretched nuisance. Adela, entering London for the first time as an adult, disagreed. She found everything about England interesting and the short hold-up insignificant.

  ‘What now?’ Mama’s eyes flew open as the noise and bustle roused her from her slumbers. ‘Is someone trying to rob us?’ Her fingers dung into Adela’s arm. ‘Does our coachman have a blunderbuss? If your Papa was—’

  ‘Calm yourself, Mama. There is nothing to worry about. We are simply waiting to pay our toll.’

  That explanation appeared to satisfy Adela’s mother. She grumbled, settled back in her seat and her eyes fluttered to a close once more. Adela was grateful, her patience almost exhausted. If she heard once more how comfortable their journey would have been if dearest Papa had been there to ensure their smooth transfer to the capital, she would not be responsible for her actions. She had loved Papa dearly, but had not been blind to his faults. She admired his sense of duty and his determination to serve his country in the seemingly endless struggle to put Napoleon in his place. Even so, she still failed to understand why it had been necessary for her and her mother to trail along after him. The past decade had been uncomfortable, dangerous, dusty and frequently boring.

  ‘Well, my dear. Here we are at last.’ Mama opened her eyes again, more alert to her surroundings. She beamed at Adela. ‘Did I not tell you I would get you here safe and sound? Tell me at once if I did not. We shall soon be comfortable in Eaton Square. I don’t suppose you remember much about the house. You were just a child when you were last there.’

  ‘I remember Ripon Hall rather better, but of course that is no longer ours.’

  ‘No, my love, your cousin is now the Earl of Ripon, but you have to admit that he made us very welcome. Although I was quite shocked by the state of the place. Your father’s steward clearly neglected his duties most shamefully, but that’s servants for you. Even the most dedicated become lax when not constantly supervised. He had no desire to see us return to London—your cousin Daniel, that is—which was most hospitable of him. But still, it is his estate now and we would just have been in the way, I expect, even though he assured me we would not be.’

  Adela nodded. The entire situation at Ripon Hall had been an oddity. Papa’s steward had not neglected his duties. He could not have, because Papa had dismissed him the moment they left England, leaving just a caretaker and a gamekeeper to watch over the closed-up estate. Little wonder it had gone to rack and ruin. Adela wondered for the millionth time why he had done it. Papa couldn’t have known that Napoleon’s antics would keep him occupied for so many years. But when it became apparent that they would, he should have engaged a reliable manager to keep his estate profitable.

  Adela hadn’t known that he had failed to do so until after Papa’s death, when she had forced herself to read through his private and papers to learn where they now stood, financially and in every other respect. Had she been aware, she would most certainly have asked him why he had chosen to neglect an estate that had been the Earl of Ripon’s seat for three centuries. She couldn’t make it out, and it was obvious that her mother had known absolutely nothing about the situation they had left behind when Papa purchased his commission, either.

  She did know that Daniel had been appalled by the state of his inheritance, for which she couldn’t altogether blame him. His mother had spent the past two months telling Adela how well situated her cousin was thanks to astute financial investments—information presumably passed on to her by Daniel himself since Adela had noticed no signs of prosperity about the place—and that he would knock the estate into good shape in no time at all.

  Somehow Adela doubted it. All show and no substance was the impression of her cousin she carried away with her. Superficially charming, always fastidiously fashionable, she neither liked nor trusted him and was heartily glad to have left Ripon, despite repeated invitations from mother and son to remain indefinitely.

  It was almost as though Papa had anticipated not returning from the war, Adela reflected, and had therefore chosen to channel his resources into the property that his only child would inherit. The family house in Eaton Square did not form a part of the Ripon estate, and had not passed into Daniel’s hands.

  The carriage rocked on its springs as their driver was forced to rein in his team to avoid colliding with a handcart. Colourful language filled the air as a loud dispute erupted; blame arbitrarily apportioned.

  ‘Don’t listen, my dear,’ Mama said, covering her own ears. ‘I declare, I never did hear such talk. I am entirely shocked.’

  Adela smiled, aware that Mama had a selective memory. They had been mixing with the military for the past ten years and some of the lower ranks frequently forget to moderate their language when ladies were present.

  ‘I look forward to accepting dear Lord Ripon’s invitation to return to Yorkshire when we tire of London.’ Mama’s meandering thoughts returned to the question of their living arrangements. Adela didn’t have the slightest intention of travelling north again, but knew better than to risk a disagreement by saying as much. She felt confident that the moment Mama was comfortably settled in London, she would have no burning desire to quit the capital. Adela knew that she had corresponded diligently with her friends during their years abroad, assuring their acceptance by society’s elite upon their return to the fold. ‘However, we must launch you first now that we are out of mourning.’

  ‘You make me sound like a ship.’

  ‘Don’t be so foolish.’ Adela closed her eyes, knowing what to expect. ‘I wish your dear Papa could be here to witness the day. He was determined that we would return, you know, so that you could make your curtsey and choose a husband from the dozens of young men who are bound to make you offers.’

  Adela’s eyes flew open. ‘Are they? I am no raving beauty and don’t have the first idea how to simper or flirt.’

  ‘Don’t be obtuse, Adela. You attracted so much attention while we were overseas. All those dashing young officers who fought to dance with you, but you didn’t seem to like any of them much.’ Mama shook her head. ‘Not that I blame you for that. These things are managed far better here in London, where society is more civilized and one has a better idea of everyone else’s pedigree
. Things got so muddled in Spain and Portugal. I suppose standards are bound to slip a little in such circumstances, but still…’

  ‘Just a little,’ Adela agreed, biting her lip in an effort to prevent a giggle from escaping.

  ‘I declare, I am so vexed with that wretched little man. If he hadn’t been bad-mannered enough to escape from exile, there would have been no more fighting and your papa would still be with us. All those years with barely a scratch, and then…’

  ‘And then he died in his own bed from a fever.” If that’s what had actually killed him. Adela remained to be convinced, but she could hardly express that view to her mother. ‘Console yourself with the knowledge that Papa was a hero. He was mentioned in despatches twice, and his men admired his courage and leadership. The same cannot be said for all officers, many of whom make no secret of their preference for leading from behind.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Mama blew her nose. ‘Your father never asked his men to undertake any dangerous task that he was not prepared to tackle himself. Several of his junior officers made a point of telling me as much. He was greatly admired.’ She glanced out the window, frowning at a row of barefoot children who were running beside the carriage, their dirty faces displaying gap-toothed grins. Adela couldn’t bear it. She reached into her reticule, withdrew a handful of pennies and threw them out the window, at which point a mini riot broke out as the children pushed one another out of the way, scrabbling to pick them up. ‘I wish you would not do that, my dear.’ Mama tutted. ‘It will only encourage them.’

  Adela sighed. ‘Maybe, but I feel very sorry for them.’

  ‘Your soft heart will be your undoing. It is fortunate that you have me to protect your interests. No one will pull the wool over my eyes.’ Mama, the easiest woman in the world to dupe, squared her shoulders and sat a little straighter.

  ‘How comforting.’

  ‘I expect we shall see Lord Ripon in London. He mentioned that he had plans to come to the capital, and so of course I invited him to stay at Eaton Square.’

  Adela’s head jerked up. ‘I didn’t know that. I wish you had not.’

  ‘He is very amiable, and he is your cousin. It was the civil thing to suggest, especially after he accommodated us for two months.’

  ‘I am surprised he can afford to take the time away from Ripon. He has a lot of work to do to put the estate back in order.’

  ‘But he is also a gentleman, my dear. He has social obligations that he cannot altogether neglect.’

  Or afford to discharge, Adela suspected. Even supposing that he possessed half the blunt his mother thought he did, it would all be eaten up by the appetites of a greedy estate. Adela, heartily relieved that the problem was not hers, dismissed the suave Daniel from her mind. If he came at all, it probably wouldn’t be for weeks.

  She became a little worried as the carriage drew closer to the mansion in Eaton Square. Had Papa neglected its maintenance, too? It was her mother’s property now, and would one day become Adela’s. She had consulted her father’s lawyer in Ripon and knew that Papa had specifically ensured that funds were made available to maintain it. His private estate was administered by a lawyer in London, but had it been administered efficiently, or had Papa’s continued absence encouraged lax attention to his affairs? Adela was about to discover the truth. Either way, she planned to see his lawyer at the earliest opportunity and discover precisely where they stood.

  Papa had made no secret of the fact that he adored his only child and never once showed any regret that he had not fathered a son. He had repeatedly told Adela that he had secured her future as well as her mother’s in the event that anything should happen to him. But the extent of her fortune, aside from the house, had yet to be established.

  ‘Ah, here we are.’

  The carriage slowed in a terrace lined with magnificent mansions set in private grounds. Their coachman turned the conveyance through wide gates, crossed a gravel driveway and stopped in front of stone steps leading to the elegant and imposing mansion that Adela recalled from her childhood. It stretched up over three stories, bathed in spring sunshine. Built of pale stone, the central section was crowned by a graceful pediment. Slender pillars flanked the canopied front door, which in turn was flanked by full-length recessed windows on either side. Adela gazed up at the steeply pitched roofs and tall chimneys, struggling to accept that all this would one day be hers. All those draughty lodging houses, the perpetual smell of gunpowder and the constant presence of fear were behind her now. This was her reward.

  Oh, Papa, you should be here to share it with us!

  She turned away, unwilling to let her mother see the tears that had sprung to her eyes. It took little to set Mama off and Adela had endured more than enough bouts of parental hysteria during this journey. Her gaze fell upon flower borders bursting with colourful spring blooms that waved their blousy heads in a fresh breeze. The sight restored her spirits and she was herself again.

  Servants stood in line on the steps, headed by the family’s butler, Talbot, whom Adela remembered well. He looked older…well, of course he did, but was as stately and distinguished as ever. He bowed low as Mama and then Adela alighted from the carriage.

  ‘Welcome home, my ladies.’

  ‘Good afternoon, Talbot. We have had a shockingly long journey and are quite exhausted.’

  ‘I shall arrange for tea to be served, ma’am.’

  Mama grasped Adela’s arm as they climbed the steps and walked into a wide entrance salon with staircases on either side, leading to the wide gallery spanning three sides of the first floor.

  ‘I remember this,’ Adela said, glancing around, her eyes drawn to the glazed dome two stories above her head. ‘I recall being sent to bed without supper for sliding down the bannisters. I cannot have been more than five years old at the time.’

  ‘Your papa despaired of you. You were quite the tomboy.’

  Adela chuckled, thinking that in some respects she hadn’t changed all that much. Perhaps it was her upbringing in war-torn Europe that made her less than enthusiastic about the rigid structure that would govern the behaviour of absolutely everything one did within the ton. Politics, on the other hand—especially the plight of the poor and the efforts being made to ensure good working conditions for returning war heroes—were subjects that occupied a great deal of her interest. Entirely unsuitable subjects for ladies, of course, whose brains were not designed to comprehend such complexities.

  ‘This is a delightful room. I had quite forgotten. Or perhaps I was not permitted to spend long in it as a child.’

  Adela walked into the drawing room and admired the black marble fireplace with its intricate carvings depicting animals and birds, their outlines scrolled with elaborate bronze. A good fire burned in the grate, taking the chill from a room that smelled of beeswax polish. Everything looked meticulously maintained and Adela was relieved to see that no economies had proved necessary. Papa must have left them well provided for, just as he had promised. Her gaze fell upon a line of invitation cards already filling most of the ornate mantel.

  ‘Goodness, where did they all come from? No one knows we are here.’

  ‘Of course they know, foolish child. The society matrons know everything.’ Mama chuckled, clearly pleased to see that many of the invitations came from the most prestigious families. Her diligent correspondence had achieved the desired effect.

  ‘Apparently, but how?’

  ‘Well, I did write to Lady Blenkinsop from Yorkshire and told her that we would be back this week. Your godmother would have spread the word. She is almost as keen as I am to see you happily settled.’

  Adela shook her head.

  ‘Let’s go up and remove our bonnets, my dear. Then I dare say that Talbot will have organised the promised tea.’ Lady Gantz took Adela’s arm as they headed for the wider of the two staircases, the one with the bannisters that had proved so irresistible to Adela as a child. ‘I shall be very pleased to sleep in my own bed tonight. Some of those posting
inns we stopped in were shockingly lax. I declare, none of the linen had been properly aired and there was dust and germs absolutely everywhere. I shall be most surprised if we don’t both catch chills and die of fevers, just like your poor papa.’

  ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.’

  ‘Here, my dear. You were in the nursery the last time we came to this house. This is your room now.’ She opened ornate double doors that led into a very large and pretty chamber with a view over the extensive rear garden. Adela was delighted to see a pond and beautifully tended flowerbeds bursting with spring blooms. There was a separate sitting room and a maid, occupied with unpacking Adela’s possessions, paused in the folding of petticoats to bob a curtsey. ‘I gave orders for it to be redecorated.’

  ‘That was thoughtful. You remembered that I like sunny yellow walls.’ She smiled at the maid. ‘What is your name?’

  ‘Bess, if it pleases your ladyship.’

  ‘It pleases me very well, Bess. Please continue with what you were doing,’ she added, removing her bonnet, gloves and pelisse and handing them to Bess.

  ‘It was nothing,’ Mama said absently, referring to the redecorating. ‘A simple letter to Mrs Fleming…you remember Fleming? I think she was a senior housemaid when you were last here, but she is housekeeper now, and very she is efficient too. She saw to all the arrangements and found you a maid.” Mama cast suspicious glances at the corners of the room and ran a finger across a table top in search of dust. Mama most emphatically did not approve of dust—an unfortunate idiosyncrasy given that they had spent the past ten years trailing across Spain, Portugal and latterly France, where dust abounded during the dry, hot summers and displaced persons had more immediate concerns than household cleanliness.

  ‘It is a delightful room.’

  ‘Good. Good. I am so glad that you like it. Come down when you are ready. Make sure that Bess brings up hot water so that you can wash the dust from your hands. One cannot be too careful.’