Free Louise M Gouge by A Suitable Wife

at home in the schoolroom with her governess, Beatrice dreamed of the coming adventures, but Mama died of a fever before she could keep her promises. At one and twenty Beatrice was long past the proper age for a debut, and she doubted Mrs. Parton planned to introduce her at one of Her Majesty’s Drawing Rooms. But for now she would try to enjoy this evening as though Mama were with them, scheming to find the perfect husband for her only daughter.
    Alas, for the past several days Beatrice’s thoughts of marriage were followed straightaway by thoughts of the viscount who lived next door. But despite Lord Greystone’s playful winks and banter about their shared interest in the little chimney sweeps, Lady Greystone made it clear Beatrice was not completely welcome in her home and was received only because she was Mrs. Parton’s companion. Even Lord Greystone had advanced his friendliness no further. Beatrice chafed at these unfair judgments against her because of Melly’s reputation, but there was no remedy for it.
    To carry them to the theatre, Mrs. Parton had ordered her new blue-and-white landau, drawn by her favorite team of four white horses. The two ladies sat side by side facing the front of the elegant carriage so they could best enjoy the scenery as they traveled. Emerging from Hanover Square, they observed many other stylish carriages conveying members of the haute ton to parties and routs and festivities to celebrate Napoleon’s defeat.
    At the thought of such gaiety Beatrice dismissed the pain of her own disappointments. After years of war perhaps England and all of Europe could breathe more easily. Beatrice decided the future looked brighter than it had since Mama died, at least for the moment.
    The carriage clattered over the cobblestones, but the thick cushions covering the benches and the springs on the wheels protected the passengers from severe jarring, making conversation pleasant. The air was filled with various scents, spring roses and honeysuckle vying with the evidence of passing horses on the roadways. As the landau turned this way and that on the streets leading to Covent Gardens, the always jovial Mrs. Parton extolled the talents of the renowned actor who would soon entertain them.
    “Mr. Robert Elliston is quite handsome, to be sure. He will no doubt thrill us as Richard III, although I cannot think he could surpass his performance as Hamlet. Have you seen any of Shakespeare’s plays performed, my dear?”
    Beatrice felt her own excitement growing. “No, madam, but I have read them all.”
    “Oh, gracious.” Mrs. Parton eyed her with alarm. “Even Titus Andronicus? ”
    Beatrice gave her a sober nod. “And did not sleep for many a night afterward.”
    “I should think not.” Mrs. Parton shuddered, as if to shake off her own memories of the bloody tale. “But tragically, real life is often mirrored in these dramas.” After a moment her smile returned, accompanied by a twinkle in her eyes. “We are meeting Lord and Lady Blakemore at the theatre and will share their box, then go to their home near Grosvenor Square for a midnight supper. They have invited a few other friends, although Grace did not tell me whom.”
    “I should like that.” Beatrice found herself hoping a certain viscount would be in attendance. In fact, Lord Greystone’s handsome visage continued to dance across her mind as the landau stopped in front of an imposing building.
    “Here we are. The Royal Olympic Theatre.” Mrs. Parton waited while the footman opened the door and handed her down. “Come along, my dear.”
    Beatrice scooted across the velvet cushion and reached for the white-gloved hand extended to assist her, all the while fussing with her skirt to keep it modestly in place. But as she emerged from the carriage and looked up to thank John Footman, she gazed instead into the very face that moments before had filled her thoughts. Her pulse quickened with guilt, as when her governess once caught her stealing