Friday's Child

By Rosemary Morris

Since the day her oldest sister entered society, Lady Elizabeth, the Earl of Saunton’s sister, imagined the pleasures of her first London Season, during which she expected to meet her future husband. Unfortunately, when she is old enough to make her debut, no member of her immediate family is available to chaperone her in London, so she accepts her Great-Aunt Augusta’s offer to bring her out in Cheltenham.

Elizabeth looks forward to living at Augusta’s grand house near the lively, popular town where people drink mineral water at pump houses and enjoy the social life. Determined to be the perfect debutante, she cannot imagine creating a scandal, so it is fortunate that she cannot foresee the future. Modest, loving and giving Elizabeth is blessed with beauty and a fortune, which attracts suitors. It would not be surprising if her ‘head is turned’ by admirers but she is not a flirt.

From the moment she sees Mr Yates she sets her heart on him. At the same time, she is not attracted to her brother’s friend with an exotic background, and amber eyes like a tiger’s which unnerve her. Both gentlemen made their fortunes when they served in the East India Company, but will they lead her into trouble, be right for Elizabeth and will one of them be the perfect match for her?
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• Language: English
• Publisher: BWL Publishing Inc.
• Release date: Jun 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9780228608219

Rosemary Morris

Rosemary Morris was born in Sidcup Kent. As a child, her head was ‘always in a book.’ While working in a travel agency, Rosemary met her Hindu husband. He encouraged her to continue her education at Westminster College. In 1961 Rosemary and her husband, now a barrister, moved to his birthplace, Kenya, where she lived from 1961 until 1982. After an attempted coup d’état, she and four of her five children lived in an ashram in France.Back in England, Rosemary wrote historical fiction and joined the Romantic Novelists’ Association, Historical Novel Society, Watford Writers and many online groups. To research, Rosemary reads non-fiction, visits museums and other places of historical interest. Her bookshelves are so crammed with historical non-fiction, that if she buys a new book she has to consider getting rid of one. Apart from writing, Rosemary enjoys time with her family, classical Indian literature, reading, vegetarian cooking, growing organic fruit, herbs and vegetables and creative crafts.

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Friday’s Child

Heroines Born On Different Days of The Week (#6)

By Rosemary Morris

Friday’s Child is loving and giving.

Nursery Rhyme

Digital ISBNs

EPUB 978-0-2286-0821-9

Kindle 978-0-2286-0822-6

WEB 978-0-2286-0823-3

Print ISBNs

Amazon 978-0-2286-0824-0

LSI/Ingram 978-0-2286-0825-7

Copyright 2019 Rosemary Morris

Cover Art by Michelle Lee

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

Dedication

To my beautiful, talented granddaughter, Zoe.

May your life always be happy.

Chapter One

April 1822. Cavendish Square, London

Since the day seventeen-year old Lady Elizabeth’s oldest sister was presented at court she longed for the pleasures of her first London Season.

Lady Elizabeth gazed at her reflection in the mirror on her dressing table. Mama would have approved of her white silk gown made by a famous London modiste. No more black bombazine gowns worn for six months after her dear mother’s demise, followed by six months during which she dressed in grey or lavender. She had mourned for Mama, whom she would always miss, but the time had come to put grief aside. Elizabeth dried her eyes with a cambric handkerchief.

Elizabeth sighed. The cards life had dealt were unjust. She did not have a chaperone to guide her through the shoals of society. In August she would celebrate her eighteenth birthday. If her introduction to the ton was delayed until next year, prospective suitors might be more interested in younger ladies. What will my future be? she asked her mirror image from which her grey eyes fringed with long black lashes stared back at her.

Of course, her heart went out to her sister-in-law who was increasing for the third time. Twice Amelia, Countess of Saunton, had failed to bear a living child. This time, the doctor had ordered her to take little exercise and spend most of her time either on a chaise lounge or in bed. No balls, theatres, picnics and soirees for Amelia this year.

You are so loving and giving, Elizabeth, Amelia had said yesterday. Thank you for reading to me every day and for all the time you devote to me. I know how much you looked forward to this year’s London Season. It would have been a pleasure to chaperone you. Now, instead of taking you out and about, here I am like a queen bee with your brother and the rest of the family hovering around me.

In despair, Elizabeth caught her lower lip between her teeth. While Amelia and Saunton waited, hoping they would have a son to inherit the title and estates, it would not have been unreasonable to expect one of her three married sisters to chaperone her. She drummed her fingers on the dressing table. Dear Hero divided her time between her husband, children and society and rarely came to England.

If I ask her, Hero would arrange for you to make your debut in Dublin and chaperone you, Saunton had suggested, but Elizabeth did not want to seek an eligible husband in Ireland.

Her sister Charlotte and her husband, the Duke of Midland, were in Paris on a long-deferred visit to those of his French grandmother’s aristocratic relatives who had survived revolution and war. And Margaret, with whom she had giggled and shared confidences before Margaret married Mr de Vere, a nonpareil, expected the birth of her second child in July. To have been chaperoned by one of them would have been a delight.

Elizabeth walked around her dressing room appreciative of the luxury surrounding her. Instead of indulging in self-pity, she should be grateful for the fortune inherited from her godfather and thank God for her good looks. They guaranteed that upon marrying she would become the mistress of her husband’s estates.

A knock on the door preceded the entry of her youngest sister, eleven-year-old Cassie. With hair as black as a blackbird’s feathers and an extremely fair complexion, she looked more like her than their other sisters.

Dear Lizzie, busy as a bee, Cassie teased.

Elizabeth ignored the lively child’s impertinence. You should be in the schoolroom.

Cassie, adored by the entire family, perched on the edge of a chintz covered chair. Saunton sent for ice cream from Gunter’s to tempt Amelia’s appetite. There is more than enough for her. Do you think you could send some to the schoolroom for Sophy?

Must you always speak for our sister?

Cassie shrugged.

I suppose you don’t want any. Elizabeth tried not to laugh while she remembered the days when she and Margaret had asked Charlotte to provide treats.

I do but I only asked for some because Sophy would enjoy it. Anyway, I hope Great-Aunt Augusta will not guzzle so much that there is none left for us.

Great-Aunt! When did she arrive?

While you changed into your evening gown.

Why is she here? Elizabeth murmured.

I don’t know, but Saunton did not look pleased to see her. Cassie swung her legs backward and forward. I hope she won’t ask me to say my catechism. She scowled. Sophy says she will use the servants’ stairs to avoid her. That will not help, Great-Aunt will send for us. If we displease her, she will give Miss Harrington an ear-wigging.

Fond of her former governess, who now taught Cassie and Sophy, Elizabeth hoped her Great-Aunt would not, but she always sailed into deep waters like a man-of-war with all its sails unfurled. There would be a battle between the old lady and Saunton if she uttered even one critical word which upset Amelia. But why had she left Bath and come to London? To congratulate Saunton and Amelia on the prospect of a possible son and heir? Yet, even if Amelia only presented Saunton with daughters, the succession was assured by their younger brothers, Julian and Giles.

If you send us some ice cream, please make sure there is enough for Miss Harrington? It would also be a treat for her Cassie said.

Yes, I will. Now, go back to the schoolroom before you develop a halo and wings. Elizabeth braced herself to go downstairs and face the marchioness.

* * *

Elizabeth accompanied her Great-Aunt Augusta, Marchioness of Armitage, to the small drawing room.

Will do well, Augusta said.

"Do well for what? Elizabeth hoped Saunton would not linger for long drinking port in the dining room. She ignored her impulse to flee but remained near the door, too anxious to sit down.

Augusta crooked a finger. You may approach me.

With reluctance Elizabeth obeyed, conscious of her gown which had a more natural waistline than the gowns with tiny bodices popular earlier in the century.

Turn around, Augusta ordered and raised her quizzing glass.

Great-Aunt’s eyesight had not failed. She used the quizzing glass to intimidate. Her head unbowed, Elizabeth obeyed.

Sit!

How rude! She should not command me as though I am a pet dog!

Elizabeth pressed her lips together in a firm line as she sat.

Widow of one of the foremost peers of the realm, sixty-five-year old Great-Aunt Augusta’s opinions were forthright. A word of disparagement voiced in public could damage the unfortunate recipient’s reputation. Elizabeth gripped her hands together. Although her cantankerous relative was unlikely to criticise her in public because it might ruin her opportunity to marry well, she shuddered at the possibility of the sharp edge of Great-Aunt’s tongue being applied to her.

So, Elizabeth, this season, there is no one available to introduce you to society. Augusta looked down her nose. Saunton’s wife, the vulgar tradeswoman’s granddaughter, should have chaperoned you but due to her condition she cannot. Her grey eyes narrowed. I told Saunton not to marry Amelia. He should have chosen a wife with a good bloodline.

I don’t understand, Elizabeth protested, unable to tolerate Great-Aunt’s forthrightness. When Saunton buys a new stallion, he says new blood is desirable.

Augusta chuckled. So, you are not a milk and water Miss. Blue blood runs through your veins. Provided you are not as indiscreet in public as your sister Margaret was before she married, we should deal well together. Oh, don’t look so surprised. I shall- She broke off when the door opened and Saunton strolled into the room.

Ah, there you are. I hope you are not inebriated, Augusta greeted him.

No more than you, madam. His eyes revealed a trace of irony. I trust you enjoyed the burgundy. He sat on the sofa at right angles to her chair.

Armitage would not be so impertinent, Augusta reproached her great-nephew.

I am sure your son is all that he should be, Saunton countered.

Indeed! Augusta exclaimed as though she dared him to disparage her only offspring.

Elizabeth bit her lip to force herself not to reveal her amusement. Everyone in the family knew Great-Aunt was disappointed by her conscientious but tedious, unmarried thirty-year-old son.

Saunton.

Yes, madam.

I shall stay with you for a week before I go to Cheltenham where I will reside in future.

Why? Saunton asked. I thought you were content in Bath.

Too many of my friends have departed, Augusta replied.

Where have they gone? Elizabeth asked, surprised because Great-Aunt had hesitated for a moment before she spoke.

To a better place, Augusta replied.

Puzzled, Elizabeth frowned. Have they gone to Cheltenham? Is that why you are going to live there?

Great-Aunt means that her friends are in heaven, Saunton explained.

Oh, Elizabeth exclaimed, embarrassed.

Saunton, I approve of my great-niece and consider her suitable.

Her brother narrowed his eyes, Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. Suitable for what?

Allow me to explain. Miss Gerard, my companion is no longer with me, Augusta began.

Elizabeth did not blame the poor woman if she left due to Great-Aunt’s incessant demands. Why?

Miss Gerard had no choice, Augusta said slowly.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to ask where the lady went but Saunton forestalled her. You are obtuse, Elizabeth. It is to be hoped Miss Gerard is enjoying eternal rest.

Oh, she is dead, I am sorry Great-Aunt, I am sure you miss her.

Augusta sniffed. Not entirely. The woman’s, fussing and tittering, which I doubt you are guilty of, annoyed me.

I only fuss over Sophy and Cassie if they are ill or overwrought and I never titter, Elizabeth said.

Augusta looked at Saunton. Good. Now allow me to explain why I am here. Elizabeth may accompany me to Cheltenham where she shall make her curtsy to polite society in the summer and be of assistance to me.

Alarmed, Elizabeth gazed at the Marchioness.

Assistance? Saunton’s nostrils flared. I hope you don’t expect my sister to act as an unpaid companion?

Don’t be foolish. I know what is due to our family. I merely hope Elizabeth would not object to visit the library to collect a book for me or, for example, to choose a new ribbon for my hat.

No, I would not but- Elizabeth began.

Augusta ignored the interruption and addressed Saunton. Of course, whenever I don’t accompany her, Elizabeth will be escorted by a reliable maid and have a footman to protect her and carry her parcels. I shall take great care of her. You may be certain I will not permit fortune hunters, penniless younger sons or other undesirable men to pay court to her.

Madam, you speak as though the matter is settled. Elizabeth might not accept your offer.

Augusta waved a finger at him. "’Pon my word, as her guardian it is for you to make decisions on her behalf. Allow me to reassure her.

Elizabeth, Cheltenham has much to offer, balls every evening at the Assembly Room except for Saturday and Sunday, theatres, and spas with pump rooms. Moreover, we will be invited to dine at great houses and to soirees and routs and picnics. So, what is your answer?

Elizabeth took several deep breaths. Had she glimpsed pain in the depths of those dark eyes from which a single glance intimidated an unfortunate recipient? Did sadness dwell behind the old lady’s crusty façade? Rank and wealth did not ensure happiness. Since Miss Gerard’s death was Great-Aunt lonely in a houseful of servants? Could she help her?

For reassurance and with the hope of approval, Elizabeth glanced at her brother. Neither he nor Amelia needed her, but maybe her elderly relative did.

Great-Aunt, if Saunton does not object I accept your invitation.

Chapter Two

Refreshed by an excellent night’s sleep, Augusta sat up in bed. Supported by a bank of feather pillows she drank hot chocolate and ate a slice of thin cut bread lavishly spread with butter and planned her day. First a visit to Amelia, followed by breakfast, then an inspection of Elizabeth’s wardrobe. In the afternoon if there were no April showers, perhaps a ride in the barouche in Hyde Park with her great-niece before dusk.

After she changed her clothes with her dresser’s help, she stood in front of the pier mirror. Her bow-shaped lips, much admired in her youth, curved in response to the sight of her fashionably plump, but not fat figure, controlled by tightly laced stays to emphasise her waist. Satisfied with her dove grey challis gown confined above her waist with a silver buckle, she tweaked one of the small white curls around her temples and across her forehead into place. Known for her superb style, Augusta smiled and congratulated herself on her elegant appearance.

She turned away from her reflection, her mind occupied with plans to visit her favourite modiste on the following day. She would order new gowns for herself and for Elizabeth, who must be dressed in the latest fashion when she was launched into society next month.

Her dresser opened the door, stood aside for her to leave the bedchamber, then preceded her along the wide corridor and knocked on the door of the countess’s apartment.

Thank you, Deane, Augusta said.

Blythe, Amelia’s dresser announced her.

Perfume cloyed the stale air in the room where Amelia lay in bed. Draw the curtains and open a window, Augusta ordered Blythe in a tone no servant dared to disobey.

Augusta peered through the gloom at Saunton’s countess. Good day, Amelia, I trust to God that you are well.

Yes, thank you, Great-Aunt. Amelia pressed a hand to her throat My physician would disapprove of an open window.

Sunshine streamed through the glass. Her great-niece by marriage looked ill. Hum. Augusta seated herself on a chair by the four-poster bed with a sky-blue velvet canopy and velvet curtains.

How are you, Great-Aunt? Amelia asked.

With less to hope for than you. Have you breakfasted?

Her face pale and her eyes anxious, Amelia nodded.

What did you eat?

A bowl of gruel. My physician says I must rest and not strain my digestion.

Poppycock! Augusta scoffed.

I beg your pardon, Great-Aunt?

Have you become deaf? I don’t approve of the regime he prescribed for you. When we last saw each other you were a healthy young woman with clear blue eyes and pink cheeks. Today, you look like a wraith. She sniffed. Don’t coddle yourself. Stop languishing in bed, enjoy fresh air and eat well but don’t overindulge.

I must follow my doctor’s advice," Amelia protested.

Nonsense! It is not infallible. Princess Charlotte’s death and the birth of her perfectly formed stillborn son might have been avoided if she had not followed the reducing diet prescribed by her physician.

Amelia blinked tears from her eyes. I don’t know what to do for the best.

Dismiss the fool.

My husband might refuse. He engaged him because he has an excellent reputation.

Saunton will agree after I have convinced him you are not the first woman to have miscarried twice, and that if you are half-starved you and the baby will be at risk. She waved her forefinger at Amelia. Don’t sniffle.

I am not, Amelia fibbed.

Yes, you are. You think I don’t understand you submit to the doctor’s ridiculous orders because you would do anything to have a baby. Don’t indulge in self-pity. You are not the first or last woman to be desperate to be a mother. I was.

You, Amelia exclaimed.

Yes. Married when I was twenty years old, I was in despair until I conceived at the age of thirty-four. Until I held Armitage cry for the first time before I held him in my arms, I did not believe in miracles. She stood. Close your mouth, Amelia. I daresay you are too polite to ask me to mind my own business and go to the devil. She laughed. Instead, put your trust in me and God. I shall not mince my words when I speak to Saunton.

About to leave the room, Augusta looked back at Amelia. You have one blessing which I did not have. A husband who is devoted to you. She choked back the memory of her father’s refusal to allow her to marry the man she loved and the arranged marriage she and her husband had endured.

* * *

After breakfast, Augusta looked appreciatively from the polished parquet floor and oriental rugs, to the maps hung on the walls in the library where Saunton sat at the large, oak desk.

A word with you, she said.

The earl stood. He gestured to one of a pair of chairs opposite his desk. Great-Aunt.

Saunton waited for her to be seated, her back as straight as one of the lances pointed at him by the cavalry on the battlefields. To judge by the fierce expression in her eyes, she was about to engage him in a different conflict. You wish to speak to me about something?

Yes, your wife. No, don’t poker up. You know I always come straight to the point. If you hope for a child, dismiss her doctor. The man’s a fool who should bear in mind that a reducing diet was the tragic reason for Princess Charlotte’s demise. Of course, we must always accept God’s will, but maybe the princess’s death was premature. As for your wife, her face is almost as pale as her sheets, her hair is dull, and her eyes are red-rimmed.

As though he were in despair Saunton shook his head. I agree, but her doctor has an excellent reputation.

Augusta sniffed. Which in your wife’s case is not deserved. How can the baby flourish if your wife eats little more than broth and gruel?

That question had crossed my mind, Saunton admitted, but-

You are afraid your wife will suffer another miscarriage or die in childbirth. And, I daresay, your countess shares your natural anxiety, Augusta said in a much softer tone of voice than usual.

Saunton’s jaw clenched. I would prefer to face the enemy on the battlefield to being a victim of your blunt speech.

Imagination is your enemy, but don’t be downhearted, Augusta continued. take your countess to Longwood where a quiet life, country air and good food will benefit her.

The harsh lines on Saunton’s face decreased. I shall, he said slowly. Thank you for your excellent advice. I have been almost out of my mind with worry.

Augusta straightened her shoulders. I will make enquiries and recommend a man-midwife or, to use the term more common these days, an accoucheur to attend her at regular intervals and at the birth. She smiled, then added. In six months, God willing, I look forward to meeting your heir?

And I am eager to meet my son or daughter, Saunton murmured.

* * *

Surprised by the sight of her sister-in-law seated on a chair in her parlour, Elizabeth stepped across the threshold and halted.

Should you not be in bed or on a chaise longue? she asked as she admired Amelia’s turquoise blue silk evening gown.

Amelia shook her head. Great-Aunt Augusta gave me good advice and persuaded Saunton to dismiss my physician.

Elizabeth sat down on one of the chairs covered in red and cream striped silk. Does this mean you are well?

Amelia patted her stomach. I must take care, but I may be up and about. After you go to Cheltenham, I shall go to Longwood.

Oh! Elizabeth breathed. For a moment she had thought her sister-in-law might be able to chaperone her. Ashamed of her selfishness, she sought for something to say before she spoke. What will you name your child?

Colour filled Amelia’s cheeks. We have not discussed it, but if we have a son, I would like him to have the same Christian name as Saunton, she replied her voice tender, and if we have a daughter, for my husband to choose her name. Now, Elizabeth, please tell me what you did today.

Great-Aunt Augusta inspected my wardrobe. She decided to add to it, so we will visit a modiste tomorrow. I accompanied her on some morning calls and, Elizabeth’s cheeks warmed, I was introduced to Viscount Bartlet’s youngest son, Mr Yates, who returned recently from India. The thought of the handsome Right Honourable gentleman caused unfamiliar, but not unpleasant sensations. In the afternoon Great-Aunt and I took the air in Hyde Park, where Mr Yates reined in his horse by the barouche. My sister Sophy is jealous because I met someone who has been to India. She wants to go there one day and buy an elephant, Elizabeth babbled. When we returned Great-Aunt unnerved me.

Amelia frowned. How?

She said I have very pretty manners. You can imagine how shocked I was because it is the first time, I have ever heard her pay a compliment.

Yes. I can She is usually an outspoken, critical old lady but I hope you will discover that beneath her shell is a softer centre than I suspected until today.

Amelia.

Yes, Elizabeth.

Would you like me to stay with you at Longwood and keep you company instead of going to Cheltenham?

Thank you, but it would be too great a sacrifice. Besides, who knows what your future holds? You might meet Geoffrey Yates again in Cheltenham. If my memory is not at fault, his father owns an estate in the vicinity.

* * *

Geoffrey enjoyed a lavish meal with his parents. Afterwards he escorted his mother, Louisa, Viscountess Bartlet, to the double doors opened by two footmen, who wore red and gold livery.

Enjoy a glass or two of port with your father, then join me in the drawing room. His mother hugged him. "Thank God you have returned from India in good health. So many young men, who go there with the hope of returning with a fortune, are cut off in the flower of