Regency Masquerade

Chapter Twenty Four

It was fourteen days since he had seen Frances, Lord Carleton had counted every one of them. His feelings for her were growing stronger rather than fading away with the passing of time, the young girls on display in the Marriage Mart seemed pale and uninteresting compared to Frances. He realised reluctantly that she was not going to contact him and he was not going to find her by himself, so he at last approached his man of business for help.

He concluded that she was currently presenting herself as a woman because he had not seen or heard of Peter Francis in any of his usual haunts since his return to London, and he asked Mr Adams to send one of his clerks to each respectable hotel with a delivery of artificial flowers, to enquire if they had anyone with the name of "Frances" staying with them. At least the name was sufficiently unusual that there were not likely to be many.

John felt a mixture of excitement and rather undefined anxiety as he rode back to London. He should be feeling pure happiness that Frances would be able to come into her inheritance and take her rightful place in society, but perhaps years of working with a gamester who knew that when things seemed too good to be true there was usually a reason, had instilled wariness in him.

Frances was overjoyed when he gave her the letter and told her about his meeting with the rector at St Martin's. Now I can contact Richard, was her immediate unspoken response but she said. "This is wonderful, John! I must visit Lady Murray as soon as possible to give her this."

"Hold yer horses," cautioned her retainer. "Perhaps you should call on that solicitor of yours first, let him make the arrangements. Lady Murray might not be so happy as you think with this turn of events."

"I am sure you are wrong, John. She might be a trifle crusty, but she is family after all." Frances was too happy to listen to sober counsel and asked John to arrange for a hackney to take her to Devonshire Street. She changed into her best morning dress and whisked Madame Lebrun off with her to visit her newly acquired grandmother. John made sure he had the second copy of the rector's letter tucked safely inside his jerkin. He had a bad feeling about this.

It appeared that his fears were groundless. Frances was admitted to the morning salon where Mrs Pearson had been reading to Lady Murray. They looked up as she entered, Mrs Pearson smiling tentatively and Lady Murray schooling her face with a polite expression of enquiry.

"Good morning, my lady, Mrs Pearson. I am sorry to burst in on you like this but I have some great news!" enthused Frances. "It will be a relief I think, for you to know that your daughter, my mother, was properly wed to my father. My servant found the record in the parish register at Brasted. Here, I have a letter for you from the rector," she placed it into Mrs Pearson's trembling hand.

"My goodness!" she exclaimed, "That is wonderful isn't it?" She turned to her employer, who just had time to paste a pleased expression on her face, before answering graciously, "Yes indeed."

"Just think! Brasted!" Mrs Pearson continued to wonder and exclaim, innocently covering the fact that Lady Murray sat in silence as her brain rushed to consider how best to deal with the situation.

"You must come and stay with us, my dear," she announced suddenly, it would be best to have the girl under her charge while she decided what to do.

"Yes," agreed Mrs Pearson enthusiastically, "I will have a room prepared immediately. You must make your home with us now, Frances."

"Well I will certainly come for a visit," Frances answered, feeling a little startled by the offer. Her more cautious self was suddenly waking up, did she really want to live with Lady Murray and be subject to her notions of what was suitable for her? If she moved into Devonshire Street she would be forsaking most of her independence. There would be no more dressing in male attire, no more shooting or fencing, she would not even be able to leave the house without a companion.

They talked for a little longer then Frances took her leave to return to the hotel and make arrangements. "Surely I can send a servant to do that for you?" suggested Lady Murray.

"Thank you, my lady, but there are some matters I must attend to personally," replied Frances, her heart sinking as she realised the restrictions she would now be faced with on a daily basis.

She returned to the Regent Hotel, impatient to tell John what had occurred. He agreed reluctantly that she needed to at least visit with Lady Murray, but encouraged her to continue renting the rooms at the Regent for another week or two so that she would have somewhere to go if affairs did not go smoothly. Frances felt obliged to fulfil her bargain with Madame Lebrun. She dismissed her with an extra week's wages and gave her the money for her fare to Paris as previously agreed. Madame was effusive in her thanks, but ventured to ask if she was sure she would be able to manage without her.

They decided that John would continue to stay at the Regent until she made more permanent plans, he would hardly fit in at Devonshire Street. Before she packed a bag, containing only her female clothes and accessories, Frances sat down to write a letter to Lord Carleton. John would deliver it to him after he had dropped her at Devonshire Street.

"My dear Carleton,

I have been waiting until I sorted out my affairs before contacting you again. I have a name now, Frances Metcalf. I am the daughter of Lady Amanda Murray and Henry Metcalf and they were married at Brasted in Kent, twenty five years ago. I have approached my grandmother Lady Murray and she has invited me to stay with her until my inheritance is arranged, I have been told I am to inherit ten thousand pounds! It all seems like a fairy tale and best of all it is true and not a scam!

I must tell you why I left Chatswood as I did, though perhaps you have guessed the reason yourself by now! I did not want to trap you into offering for an adventuress, your unfailing kindness to me did not deserve to be repaid in that manner. I hope in time you will find yourself able to forgive me,

Yours sincerely

Frances Metcalf"

It was not exactly what she wanted to write, but she did not want to appear too forward; after all, Carleton may have felt glad to be rid of her. She felt she had owed him an explanation, even at the risk of placing her future in his hands if he wanted to destroy her. He was the only person in London, apart from John, who knew her whole story. She was already inventing a heavily edited version to tell Lady Murray and Mrs Pearson, without actually gammoning them too much.

Eventually she was packed, made her farewells to Madame Lebrun, who would leave in the morning to take the stage to Dover, and left sufficient funds with John to allow him to stay at the Regent for some weeks. She also left her male attire, including her pistol, securely locked in a bag in her room. Then she was off to Devonshire Street and a new chapter in her life.