THE MAGIC TOUCH (Historical Romance)

  THE MAGIC TOUCH

  Patricia Keyson

  First published 2013

  Not So Noble Books

  www.radicaleyes.it/notsonoblebooks

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The spelling used is British English except where fidelity to the author’s rendering of accent or dialect supersedes this

  ©Patricia Keyson

  ALSO AVAILABLE BY PATRICIA KEYSON

  HOLIDAY ROMANCE

  ‘The perfect beach read’

  http://www.amazon.co.uk/HOLIDAY-ROMANCE-romantic-suspense-ebook/dp/B00DN6B4OY/

  http://www.amazon.com/HOLIDAY-ROMANCE-romantic-suspense-ebook/dp/B00DN6B4OY/

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 1

  Hope was restless. She stretched and tried not to think about being out in the freedom of the garden at home. Fortunately, her Aunt Constance was paying her no attention as she was perusing the menus the cook had sent up from the kitchen. Hope looked out of the window and wondered how she was going to endure her time here in London if she had to remain cooped up indoors for most of her stay whilst her aunt was still in mourning for her husband. There were so many things Hope would like to see and do. Everything was much larger and louder than she was used to in the small town where her home was. She certainly didn’t begrudge her parents a trip to the continent, but she missed them a great deal. She also missed the independence they afforded her. Hope’s wish was that she be included in their tour abroad, but no invitation had been forthcoming. On the point of inviting herself, she witnessed an intimate look pass between her parents and immediately understood that this was a two-person trip.

  “Hope, are you listening to me?”

  She hadn’t been and when she glanced at Aunt Constance, she wished she had paid attention. Her aunt was an intimidating woman and now she looked positively ferocious. “Sorry, Aunt, I was thinking about my mother and father.” It was a true, if selective, reply.

  “I understand.” Her aunt’s face softened a little. “Of course you miss them. I am arranging a dinner party to cheer you up. Would you like to inspect the menus and guest list?”

  Hope smiled her assent. It would be fun to make new acquaintances, even friends. At nearly twenty-six, she was old enough to take care of herself. In practice, though, this had not been borne out, as she was on her way to ending up a spinster living with her parents. Since the horrible day when she’d overheard an erstwhile admirer telling a friend he thought he could do better than the plain Hope Richmond, she had distanced herself from invitations. It had taken Hope a long time to build up her self-confidence following that. She hadn’t dared confide in her parents as her father might have taken his fists to him. But now she was able to face her reflection in the mirror with renewed self-assurance. Perhaps while she was in London she could strive to acquire increased poise. It was something to consider.

  “Who are these people you’ve invited, Aunt?”

  Constance continued, “You will see I have included a few gentlemen who may be suitable escorts for you.”

  Hope now realised the dinner was an excuse to present her with any male who might make a good husband, or indeed any kind of husband at all. A few years ago she would have jumped at the chance, but lately she had found other things to occupy her mind. She had a wide range of pastimes including literature, painting and recently anything remotely connected to her parents’ travels. She envied her father rooting about in the historical remains of Ancient Rome and her mother being transported by the exquisite art galleries. She envisaged the heat, the scents of exotic flowers and the foreign speech. It could prove a distraction to imagine what the local people were saying. Or better still, to learn to speak their language and take them by surprise one day by conversing in their native tongue. Returning her attention to the pieces of paper, she listened distractedly to her aunt’s exposition.

  “… and then there’s James Henderson. He’s a good-looking and respectable young man.”

  By omission, Aunt Constance had painted a dismal picture of her guest and Hope lost interest right away. If he was not exciting, resourceful, and could not amuse her, she wouldn’t be interested in him. Her vivid imagination had filled her head with romance and a sense of adventure; she would not trade them for anything less. Careful not to shatter her aunt’s good intentions on her behalf, Hope deflected the remarks about the gentleman in question and said, “All this food. Goodness me, I shall have to let the seams of my dresses out.”

  Constance gave a snort which was as much as Hope had heard in the way of laughter coming from her. Then she said, “I’m sure your mother taught you to eat only small amounts of each course or even to miss one or two. There are eight after all.”

  Hope scrutinized the menu. She felt it was quite unfair that they would be eating vast amounts. She’d seen children on the streets begging for food despite the Poor Law having been in existence for over fifty years. However, she daren’t speak of this to her aunt. “It will be very good, I’m sure.”

  “You will be more aware of the gentleman sitting at your side than the food, my dear. That’s exactly as it should be. Now it’s well on time you went up to change.”

  “What’s wrong with me?” Hope looked down at her ensemble, which she thought had been ideal for a day at home with her aunt.

  “It’s nearly time for luncheon. I have invited Lady Padstock and her two daughters to join us. I believe you met them last year when you were staying in London.”

  Indeed she had. Their impeccable dress sense, manners and decorum had dazzled her. They were also beautiful.

  Then Hope remembered that she’d have to change several times a day whilst she was staying here. It wasn’t something she was used to, but it might be amusing. At home, her mother hadn’t given a hoot what she wore. One time, she’d taken the liberty of staying in her nightwear all day and neither of her parents had appeared to notice. Her mother, when engrossed in her painting, would sometimes forget to eat or to get the cook to prepare some sort of collation for them. Going upstairs to her room she thought of home; it was often filled with laughter, occasionally with silence, but always replete with love.

  When she got to her room, Hope was surprised to find the maid she’d been assigned there. “Hello Edna. What are you doing here?” When she uttered the words she knew she’d said the wrong thing as she watched the young girl’s cheeks become even rosier. Quickly, she said, “Oh, how foolish I am. You’re here to help me change. Which outfit shall we choose? I’m afraid I haven’t many and I’m sure they’ve been paraded already.”

  Edna bobbed her head. “The green and pink one is lovely, Lady Hope.”

  Hope fingered the fine material. It had been her mother’s. She lifted it to her nose and inhaled. It still vaguely possessed her mother’s familiar scent. “A good choice, Edna. Thank you.”

  After the dress had been arranged and tweaked, Hope said, “Edna, what do you know of a gentleman named James Henderson? He’s on the guest list for the dinner my aunt is arranging. I know nothing of these people and suppose I should find out a little of their background.�
�� Hope knew she was being naughty as she could always ask her aunt these questions, but she had the feeling Edna would be more forthright with her.

  She watched as Edna screwed up her pert little nose. “I suppose I should say he’s...” The silence intrigued Hope and she waited for Edna to continue without making it look as if she were hurrying the girl. “… a passionate young man. In all honesty, I don’t think I can, though.” When Hope burst into giggles, Edna joined in and the two clutched each other to prevent themselves from falling over.

  “Begging your pardon, my lady,” gasped Edna, righting herself and holding her stomach. “Now if Mr Beaumont is on that list, that’s a different kettle of fish.” Hope felt she couldn’t embarrass Edna by asking more, at least not today, but the name embedded itself in her subconscious. “I think I should see to your hair now, Lady Hope.”

  “Oh, but you spent such a long time on it this morning I really don’t think it necessary.” Then she thought of Mary and Isabella Padstock. Perhaps Edna could tame her tresses into something grand and pleasing to the eye. But if the truth be told, she couldn’t bear any more time in front of the mirror today.

  “It’s up to you, my lady, but...” Edna reached out and twisted some wispy strands of hair which had escaped from Hope’s braids. “I don’t know how it manages to come down as I pinned it well. Maybe it’s because it’s so fine.”

  “Or maybe it’s because I don’t keep my head still and bound about too much. Aunt Constance rebuked me when I ran down the stairs this morning. Apparently it’s not how I should behave. It’s quite different at home. Mother shrieks with laughter when we have races down the banisters.”

  “Your mother sounds very...”

  “I believe ‘different’ is the word you’re looking for. Certainly Father’s family thought so at first. But people can’t help loving her. Even Aunt Constance doesn’t disapprove of her quite as much as she used to. But you don’t want to hear all this.” Hope smiled at the maid. “If you have to see to my hair again shall we get on with it?”

  As Edna removed the pins from her sable coloured hair and brushed it, Hope studied her own features in the mirror. Her face was strong and well defined, her complexion unblemished. Sparkling eyes twinkled back at her and it seemed a playful smile was never far away. Yet, despite all that, she would not describe herself as pretty, unlike the Padstock girls with their porcelain skin and blonde curls.

  Edna smiled at her in the mirror. “If you don’t mind me saying, you have beautiful eyes. They’re such a clear, bright green.” She tucked another pin in place.

  “Thank you, Edna. I don’t regard myself as a vain person, but I’m always happy to receive compliments.”

  “There, all done. I expect Her Grace is waiting for you to join her so that you will be ready to receive your guests together. I heard that Lady Mary Padstock is engaged to be married and I imagine you will hear all the details of the wedding arrangements. It’s going to be a grand occasion.”

  A wedding was something to look forward to, although there was no reason why she would be invited. There must be other things happening here as well. She grabbed Edna’s hand. “We must make the most of my stay in London. There is so much to see and do. Please say you’ll help me escape from my aunt’s company, at least for some of the time. I love her dearly, but I long to be with people nearer my own age.”

  Edna looked worried. “I’ll do my best, as long as you don’t get me into so much trouble that I lose my position.”

  Hope thought fondly of her own maid, Ruth. She had wanted her to come to London, but just as they were about to set off news came that Ruth’s mother and father had been struck down with influenza. Ruth had been allowed to go home to care for them and her younger siblings. It had been a wrench to bid farewell to her parents and her trusted maid, but Hope would write letters and try to cheer Ruth up. After the sickness was over, her maid would be able to enjoy some free time with her family.

  At the top of the stairs Hope was tempted to slide down the banister, but instead decorously made her way to talk to her aunt until Stevenson, the butler, announced the arrival of their guests.

  Hope’s mind wandered as the others talked and laughed through the meal. Her attention was caught by the mention of Mr Beaumont.

  “A very strange person,” announced Lady Padstock. “He may be rich, but Isabella knows I regard him as an inappropriate match for her.”

  “Oh, Mama, as if I’d even consider him. No, The Honourable James Henderson would suit me very well.”

  Hope glanced at her aunt and wasn’t surprised to see her face was like thunder. She was startled to find a small butterfly of excitement spreading its wings in her stomach. Luncheon now seemed appetising in more ways than one.

  She toyed with her knife and fork before addressing the young woman opposite her. “Your hair’s so pretty, Isabella. It becomes you well. I’m sure you must have the pick of every gentleman in London. Do you wish to follow Mary to the altar shortly?”

  “My hair is looked after meticulously, Hope. Good grooming is a lesson you would do well to learn. My guess is that your maid isn’t doing her best. Or perhaps your hair was neglected shamefully before you arrived here. If you wish I could send someone to advise you.”

  Perhaps she ought to take Isabella up on her kind proposal. She smiled at her. “Thank you. I appreciate your offer. But don’t let’s talk of me. Tell me something of James Henderson.” Without looking in her aunt’s direction, Hope knew she was eavesdropping. “If you hold him in high regard, then I’m sure he would prove good company.” Perhaps she should not have cast aside James Henderson so quickly if someone as agreeable as Isabella had him in her sights.

  Isabella fidgeted and Hope guessed she was debating how much to give away about her intended victim. Eventually the reply came. “If James Henderson attends a mutual function, I shall be pleased to introduce you.”

  “That’s most kind.” Mindful of her aunt’s advice to eat small portions, Hope put her knife and fork down. “And Mr Beaumont? Is there any particular reason why he doesn’t fit your requirements?” Hope wanted to find out all she could about the guests at the dinner her aunt was arranging.

  Aunt Constance raised her voice. “Mary, tell us about your forthcoming wedding. It’s a very exciting time for you and your family.”

  Mary’s eyes lit up as she nodded her head. “Everyone except Father! He’s appalled at the expense.”

  Lady Padstock looked horrified. “Mary! What a thing to say.”

  The attention was on Mary now. Hope was pleased with the progress she’d made in her small talk, but disappointed that Isabella had revealed nothing about the mysterious Mr Beaumont. The subject of Mary’s lavish nuptials occupied the rest of the luncheon conversation.

  By the time their carriage arrived to deliver the Padstock ladies to their home, Hope was ready to collapse in a heap.

  “You behaved with decorum, Hope. I’m sure it couldn’t have been easy for you,” said Aunt Constance. “Those girls can be wearisome. But you could learn a lot from them.” Her aunt glanced at Hope’s hair. “If you wish I will send for Isabella’s maid.”

  Hope laughed. “I’m not sure she would be successful, however experienced and talented she is. I’m perfectly happy with Edna. My hair is very fine and likes to spring free in order to embarrass me.” As she spoke Hope fingered her hair, enjoying the silky texture of it, despite its waywardness. Briefly, she thought of her mother’s thick curls. What luxury to be able to let a glorious mane unfold around one’s shoulders.

  “Very well. Now would you care to read to me? Or would you prefer to spend some time with your embroidery?”

  Embroidery was something Hope was not good at. She had no interest in it and quickly tired of the fine stitches she had to make. After even a short session, the cloth resembled a crumpled napkin. “I’d like to read to you. Shall we continue with the book we started yesterday or do you have another preference?” So far, reading was Hope’s first lo
ve. Perhaps while she was staying in London, she would acquire something – or someone – to replace that.

  * * *

  Over the following days, Hope and her aunt became more relaxed with each other. Hope tried her best to conform to what she felt was required of her and saved her enthusiasm for when her aunt was out taking tea with her friends or at a concert. During those times, Hope wrote to her parents, made entries in her journal in large, loopy writing and dreamt of the dinner party which was nearly upon them. She was surprised the Padstocks were not on the invitation list, but fascinated when she’d seen the name Beaumont.

  A thought struck her. What on earth was she going to wear? She summoned Edna and put the question to her.

  “I wondered that myself, my lady, and took the liberty of sponging out the marks on the pale blue silk.”

  The doubtful look on Edna’s face sent a pulse of panic through Hope. “You don’t think it’s suitable, do you?”

  “I think your colouring deserves a richer hue.”

  “That means you think it’s unsuitable, doesn’t it?” pushed Hope.

  Edna nodded slowly. Then she said, “I think tea is ready to be served now. I’ll have another look through the wardrobe.”

  * * *

  “These scones are delicious,” declared Hope biting into her second one. She caught her aunt’s faintly disapproving glance. “But I certainly couldn’t manage a sandwich or a piece of cake as well.” There, she’d redeemed herself. “I shall have to make sure I can fit into my dress for the dinner.”

  “You have some fine dresses, Hope,” began Aunt Constance, “but I should like to take you shopping for a new one as this will be your first formal dinner at my home during your stay here. We will visit my dressmaker in Wimpole Street and order a dress for you. It will be designed to accentuate your best features. I thought green silk to bring out the colour of your eyes. What do you say? And then we’ll take luncheon at The Dome.”