The House in Grosvenor Square Read online

  Lady Merrilton was a wealthy Tory hostess whose palatial dwelling overlooking Hyde Park was often the scene of heated political debate. It was a town mansion that Ariana had not yet seen. She soon discovered that the grandeur and elegance at Merrilton House made even Grosvenor Square pale in comparison. There were whole rooms full of rococo art, gilded furniture, domed alcoves, roundels and statuary, pilasters and columns, and elaborately carved plasterwork. The sheer quantity of it all brought Carlton House to mind. To her surprise, she found that it was rather too elaborate for her tastes, and she thought appreciatively of the measured gracefulness of Mr. Mornay’s house.

  Ariana was delighted to find the Herleys present, Mr. Herley being a staunch Tory, as well as one of the family's solicitors. The Regent, however, had fallen ill, and was not expected to make an appearance after all. Lady Merrilton assured her guests they would be invited back to her house as soon as the Regent was well. Even more astonishing and rare a treat, his daughter, the Princess Charlotte, was also to come.

  Ariana had little stomach to listen to the latest debates because women could not vote (she was not like Lady Merrilton, who invited any MP to her table if there was the slightest chance of winning his vote on a certain issue) so she accepted Lavinia’s invitation to play a rubber of whist at a small side table in the long gallery.

  Phillip had already taken a seat at the long table, his presence receiving due pomp from Lady Merrilton, who, like most society hostesses, coveted it. The sight of pretty Ariana and her friend at a small card table drew its own little circle—stragglers, those who were growing bored with talk of politics, and latecomers.

  “If you hear of Mrs. Tiernan performing, my dear Lavinia,” Ariana was saying, “you must insist upon attending. Your mamma and papa would be delighted by her. I daresay anyone would.”

  “A dramatic actress, you say, by name of Tiernan? I cannot recall the name; where would I have seen her? Drury Lane?” asked Mr. Howland, a well-known aspirant to dandyism, which in his case included an inclination to make himself as useful as possible to the upper class.

  “Oh, I believe she only does her readings for churches or charitable causes. She’s a missionary, sir.”

  “For charitable causes?” he asked. “Lady Merrilton is seeking a performer at this very time for a worthwhile cause. Tell me of what and whom you speak.”

  “May I ask what the worthwhile cause you mentioned is?” Ariana doubted that Mrs. Tiernan would perform at Merrilton House. Though it was one of London’s biggest palaces owned by a politically powerful family, it was known for gossip and intrigue as much as political manoeuvering.

  “The cause is no less than the Regent and Her Royal Highness the princess! If you know of an entertainer who might serve, I need to know of it.” Mr. Howland narrowed his eyes at her.

  Ariana told him about Mrs. Tiernan and her dramatic reading of Scripture, giving her wholehearted endorsement of the lady—as well as her doubts about her suitability for Merrilton House. Soon Mr. Howland gained Lady Merrilton’s ear, and by the time the game of whist had ended, her ladyship was above certain she would engage Mrs. Tiernan for the evening the royals were to visit.

  Her ladyship was in fact delighted to find she could offer an entertainment with a pleasing moral emphasis that would gratify Her Royal Highness particularly. She told the story of the princess coming upon a small lad once in a village. Her Highness inquired of the boy who his father was.

  “‘Why, I thought everybody knows my father!’ he replied, quite unconscious of whom he was addressing.” (Lady Merrilton did an admirable job of sounding like an indignant little lad, and the company laughed.) “The princess was amused,” her ladyship continued, “and further inquired if the child could read. His answer, that he could read the whole of St. Matthew in the New Testament pleased her exceedingly, so she asked, ‘Do you have a Bible, then, my boy?’ He told her that the family indeed had a Bible, though it was torn and dog-eared from handling. ‘How many children does your father have?’ she then asked, and was given the number. Handing the boy a guinea, she pressed it into his palm, saying, ‘There. Go and have your parents purchase a Bible for each of your brothers and sisters, and inscribe them as a gift from the Princess Charlotte.’” There was a murmur of approval.

  Lady Merrilton continued, at ease in the role of storyteller. “The boy, all agog, stared at the guinea and then at the princess and wordlessly turned and ran off to do as she bade.” She smiled at her listeners. “I think a moral reading is just the thing our warm-hearted princess will most enjoy. Miss Forsythe has recommended just such a woman to us.”

  Lord Merrilton opined his hope that the queen would accompany the princess, as she did on some occasions. He was anxious to hear any news regarding a possible improvement in His Majesty the King.

  “As long as there is life,” he said, “there is hope.”

  Ariana made quite sure to take Lady Merrilton aside and confirm that she understood what sort of performer Mrs. Tiernan was. She was not purely an entertainer, but wanted her audience to experience Scripture in a new way. Her ladyship listened, but with a raised chin, replied impatiently, “Yes, yes, she’s precisely what I want! Her Royal Highness will be delighted.”

  As Mr. Mornay drew up to them, Lady Merrilton turned to him and, hitting his shoulder lightly with her fan, said, “I’ll depend upon you, sir, to get us our Mrs. Tiernan.” Looking back to Ariana she said, “Mornay never fails me.” With that, and a little knowing smile—a smile Ariana did not particularly like—she strode off to speak with other guests.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Mr. Mornay said, though his expression was one of amusement. “I haven’t the foggiest notion what she’s talking about!”

  “But you’re not out of countenance from her saying it,” replied Ariana.

  “Should I be? I thought you were in favour of a more forbearing attitude on my part.”

  Ariana admitted sheepishly, “Perhaps I only want you to be forbearing toward men.”

  He laughed, but then looked into her eyes. For a moment Arianaʼs heart lifted. There was the look she longed for—almost as though he wished to kiss her—but he looked quickly away. She'd been mistaken.

  From that moment, word spread quickly that a dramatic actress was to appear at Merrilton House the night of the princess’s visit. With only two days to find and secure the lady, Ariana hoped Mrs. Tiernan would agree to appear and that her performance would be as welcome to the pleasure-seeking denizens of the uppermost echelons of society as she had found it that day at the Orphanage.

  While Mr. Mornay was engaged in talk with an MP, Ariana watched Lady Merrilton happily flitting about him, injecting herself into their conversation. She felt suddenly quite unhappy with him. No, it wasn’t unhappiness exactly. What was it? Her ladyship flitted to someone else, spoke a word, and then turned, revealing her pretty face from behind a fan and nodding in Ariana’s direction. Then she returned to Mr. Mornay, draped her arm inside his, and pulled him away laughingly, saying she must have his opinion on a matter.

  Ariana was roiling with the thought that the marchioness was intentionally flouting her easy friendship with Phillip, as though to say, You don’t own him, you know. You never will.

  As she watched the lady laughing up at her future husband, all animated and very pretty, she was filled with an uncustomary jealousy that tore at her heart. Never before had there been cause for jealousy. She tried to reason herself out of it but the longer she watched, and Mr. Mornay didn’t so much as turn his head to look at her, the worse she felt. He appeared exceedingly comfortable with her ladyship’s arm still possessively on his own. How mortifying!

  She looked around and then found herself striding toward a wide doorway which led to an outer hall, beyond which was the grand staircase. She moved on, not sure what she wanted to do, but quite certain she wished to leave the room. She’d been looking forward to seeing her fiancé, but to find him equally as distant as he’d been on Sunday was disheart
ening. To find him enjoying another woman’s company was beyond the pale! At the top of the stairs, she hesitated. What was she doing out here? What was she doing at Merrillton House? She no longer wished to be there.

  If Mr. Mornay had behaved as usual, she could have mingled with the guests, enjoying conversation, and not felt the slightest whit of jealousy. But, in light of his recent aloofness, she could not shake off a dark cloud of jealousy and pique. I know it is childish, but why does he not attend to me first and foremost? It is ungentlemanly of him to abandon me!

  At the top of the staircases, she nodded to two ladies coming up the steps. Self-conscious to be found loitering about with no clear objective, Ariana descended the steps. With the help of a servant, she soon picked out her lined cape from a coatroom, and headed for the door. In moments she was out on the street.

  She felt a sense of relief. Park Lane was really not so far from Hanover Square. Why, she could, if she chused, walk home. But then the idea seemed rash and ill-advised. Instead, she took a few deep breaths of evening air, looked down the dark street, lit up only by dim street lamps, and turned back to the house. Surely it wasn’t safe.

  Reluctantly she gave up her cape. She slowly retraced her steps to the long gallery, nodding at people who greeted her. She had to conquer this childishness, she told herself, and not indulge her pique a moment longer. As she entered, she almost lost her resolve. She found Mr. Mornay still with Lady Merrilton on his arm. He was searching the room, however, but stopped at sight of her. With a satisfied expression, he gave his attention back to her ladyship. It was all Ariana could do to stop herself from bursting into tears. Why am I ready to cry? She headed once more from the room to the elegant stairway.

  Mr. Mornay came to attention as he saw her leaving. He said something to Lady Merrilton, but she merely grasped his arm the more tightly.

  Ariana, meanwhile, took the steps fast. She did not want to be seen in her condition—ready to bawl like a child. She knew Mr. Mornay was not really misbehaving, and that he wasn’t intentionally provoking her. But what was he trying to do?

  In her heart she knew he must still love her. He was going to marry her and share his life with her. The marchioness was not a rival for his affections. Surely his recent aloofness could be explained—yet no explanation presented itself, try as she might to conceive of one.

  She wished she could go home for a few days. Her real home. Her own family. Not Mrs. Bentley’s house. She blinked back tears as she reached the street; she hadn’t even stopped to claim her cape. Across the street she saw a link boy come to attention. Good. She could walk home, after all. She gestured to him. He hurried across the road to her with a lit torch. Thankfully, link boys usually hung around the homes of the wealthy when a party was in evidence. She told him where to take her and fell into step behind him, not daring to think of what Mr. Mornay would say later about her leaving without a word to him.

  She told the boy to hurry, wishing to get home quickly. Through a blur of tears, all Ariana saw was the boy’s light and the dark streets of Mayfair at night. A carriage stopped in the street, but she paid it no heed. They must be nearing Upper Brook Street, she thought, where they would make a left and turn toward the house.

  And then suddenly nothing made sense.

  Someone grasped her roughly by the arm, at the same time stopping the boy, and holding his light to her face. She could make out nothing in the dark, but assumed it was Phillip.

  “By Jove, just the baggage I’m looking for!” the man declared in an aristocratic tone—but it was not Phillip’s voice! Someone else grabbed her around the middle. She let out a startled shriek as she was slung over a shoulder like a sack of grain. She tried pummelling the man with her fists, while yelling with all her might for help.

  “Silence her, you fool!” A coach door opened.

  Her captor tried to mount the steps with her on his shoulder, but there was a scuffle. Ariana heard Mr. Mornay shout, “Not on your life, gentlemen!”

  “Phillip!” Ariana called through her tears.

  Running footsteps approached, and the voices of more men could be heard coming from the house. A report rang out, whizzing past her to hit the coach. At that, Ariana was thrust into the arms of a different man, and she fought against him, trying to hit him with her fists. The linkboy’s light was gone, and she could see nothing, but sheer terror kept her struggling. She cried again, “Phillip! Help me!”

  The man’s strong arms overpowered her. “I’ve got you, you’re safe!”

  It was Phillip.

  The sound of a coachman shouting and the crack of a whip were followed by the hasty departure of the vehicle she had nearly been forced into against her will.

  Ariana threw herself against her betrothed. Flooded with relief, she clung to his neck and allowed her tears to spill.

  Chapter Six

  Mr. Mornay lifted Ariana into his arms and turned back toward the house. To the men who came running he explained that there had been an attempted abduction of Miss Forsythe and the villains responsible had just driven off. Ariana clung to him, still trembling, and not able to forget the ominous words of that man. He’d said she was “just the baggage” he wanted. How could it be so? Thank God for the alert footman outside the house who had called for help! Mr. Mornay had already been on her heels, and was just approaching the door when the footman rushed in, saying there was some mischief on the street.

  Later, he would admit that when the ruffian had thrown Ariana into his arms, he should have put her aside to catch the men. But he could not, though the action ensured their escape. With his arms full, he was unable to lift a finger as they scrambled into their vehicle and took off.

  While Ariana clung to him, Mr. Mornay asked Lord Merrilton to gather a few men and pursue the carriage. Then he hoisted her up more securely and turned to make his way back to the great house.

  “No, I must go home!" Ariana pleaded.

  “After I see that you’re well enough,” he said.

  “No, Phillip!” In such a weakened state, Ariana detested the thought of putting herself into the marchioness’s care. Perhaps it was the urgency in her tone, or that she had called him by name, but her words made him stop.

  By now there was a crowd upon the street as guests spilled forth from the house after hearing what had happened. Brummell and Worcester appeared.

  “Good heavens! Is she all right?” Brummell asked.

  “She will be. Fortunately, I was in time to scare them off.”

  “What, was she out here alone?” Brummell whistled loudly and ordered a servant to bring Mr. Mornay’s coach at once.

  “It’s a curricle,” Mr. Mornay said to the retreating figure who was going round back towards the mews.

  “You came in an open curricle?” Beau Brummell’s face screwed up in distaste.

  Mr. Mornay replied, icily, “For lack of a chaperon, yes.”

  The Beau smiled. “But it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” He gave his friend an impish look, but seeing Ariana’s stricken expression, he hastily added, “Right. Quite proper, Mornay.” He further redeemed himself by acting as a foot-guard so that those who were joining them on the street were unable to accost Ariana or her rescuer.

  “Miss Forsythe is fine—a couple ruffians abroad, that’s all.” Mr. Mornay continued to provide what few details he had; that the coves had a coach, no crest that he could see; and no lamp was lit. His curricle was finally brought to the curb, but he realized he could not climb aboard without putting his charge down. Just then Merrilton arrived, indignant that a guest of his had fallen into harm’s way.

  “Use my coach, Mornay,” he said. “We can’t have Miss Forsythe put to any further discomfort.” He issued orders for his coach to be brought, and then turned to a nearby footman. “Where’s the dratted beadle ye need ‘em? Seen ‘im tonight?”

  “No, m’lord.”

  The nobleman grimaced. “Not a beak in the street when ye need’em!” He paused. “Isn’t one su
pposed to be about?”

  “I believe so, m’lord.”

  “Not even a dashed charley around!”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good heavens!” Lady Merrilton came rushing out of the house. “Bring her in, for pity’s sake, Mornay!” She looked at a servant. “Fetch a doctor at once!”

  “Do call a doctor,” Mr. Mornay said, “but send him to Mrs. Bentley’s house in Hanover Square. Number 49.”

  “It isn’t necessary,” Ariana said. She was only sniffling now, but still quite terrified at her near disaster.

  “Do it,” he repeated.

  The coach arrived, and he carried her up into the compartment and placed her on the cushion.

  He stood with his head outside the door, saying, ‘I’ll see her home, and then take a look around. I’ll see if I can recognize that carriage.”

  “Very well; there are a few men out looking now; but we’ll wait on you Mornay, and go together,” said Merrilton.

  The Beau was already asking for a sword, as he didn’t carry his own. Others were pulling out pistols or testing the strength of their walking-sticks.

  “When we catch them, they’ll be sorry they tried they’re business with one of our ladies!” shouted Merrilton.

  Worcester was practically drooling. “Teach ‘em a lesson, that’s what! And then give ‘em an escort to the hulks!”

  Mr. Mornay lit the interior lamp, sat down and looked intently at the young woman crying quietly into her handkerchief. He might have lost Ariana to the hands of unspeakably vile men! His heart was still beating hard in his chest. She turned her eyes up to his, red-rimmed but pretty nonetheless. She wanted to throw herself back into his arms, but he made no move to take her up against him, and so she just looked at him, still sniffling.