Becoming Lola Page 4

  ‘You must never be so wicked again,’ she scolded Eliza on the way home. ‘You will spend the rest of the day in your room to give you the opportunity to repent.’

  Eliza opened her mouth to protest then closed it again. Perhaps she had gone too far. A little shiver went through her. If Aunt Catherine turned against her, who would be left?

  *

  Slowly, Eliza grew accustomed to living under sombre, northern skies but she missed the light and colour of India. She often wondered when her mother and stepfather would send for her, but as the years passed and they did not, she found comfort in her Aunt Catherine’s kindness. On winter days, they baked scones and bannocks together in the warm, floury kitchen. In summer, they walked in the country lanes or worked in the garden.

  She had few companions of her own age. The families of Montrose were suspicious of outsiders and most of her Craigie cousins were grown up. But when her cousin Mary, the youngest of the seven, returned for the holidays from boarding school, they became good friends.

  ‘You have such lovely things,’ Mary said one afternoon as they sat in Eliza’s room. She looked enviously at a gauzy pink scarf decorated with shiny sequins and beads.

  Eliza picked it up. ‘My ayah made it for me when I was in India. She taught me how to use it when I danced.’ She pointed her toes and took a few steps, letting the scarf shimmy through her fingers and swish along the floor.

  Mary clapped her hands. ‘Can I try?’

  ‘Of course.’

  After a few moments, Mary sat down laughing. ‘I’m not as good at it as you.’

  ‘My ayah said I was born to dance.’ She took back the scarf and stroked it. ‘Do you like being away at school, Mary?’

  Her cousin shrugged. ‘I missed home badly at first but I’m used to it now. I suppose you will go one day.’

  ‘Are the teachers very strict?’

  ‘Some of them.’

  ‘I don’t think I should like it.’

  ‘You won’t have a choice, Eliza. Mother says that we are gentry and must be properly educated so we can find a good husband. That is the purpose of our lives. Oh, don’t scowl, Eliza. By the time you are sixteen like me, you may be glad of a husband and a home of your own.’

  *

  Shortly before Eliza’s eleventh birthday, letters were exchanged between India and Scotland and it was decided it was time for her to go south to attend Camden Place, an academy for young ladies in the fashionable spa of Bath. She viewed the prospect with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

  The school was run by two elderly spinsters, Miss Aldridge and her younger sister, Miss Mary Aldridge. It was situated at Camden Crescent, a terrace of tall, stone houses originally conceived as a grand architectural scheme to rival the more famous Royal Crescent. Unfortunately, soon after the work commenced, it became clear that not all of the steep hillside was suitable for building, so the crescent remained truncated on one side. Nevertheless, the general effect of the honey-coloured stone façades, with their Corinthian pilasters, was pleasant and imposing.

  On arrival, Eliza noticed that a plaque above the stout oak door displayed a carved Indian elephant. Perhaps, she thought, it was a good omen.

  Inside, she found a warren of schoolrooms and dormitories. The one where she was to sleep was a narrow, attic room with six iron bedsteads on each side. In the dining hall that first evening, she looked around at the other girls and counted a hundred in all. It felt strange but exciting to be among so many: some short, some tall, some pretty, some plain. She wondered which of them would be her friends.

  The low chatter stilled then Miss Aldridge said grace. With a scraping of chairs, they sat down to a meal of mutton broth and stewed prunes: the first of many school dinners.

  *

  Every moment of the day was accounted for at Camden Place and each change of activity was signalled by the clang of the big school bell. There were many rules to be observed too. Eliza often found them irksome, but the subjects the girls studied came easily to her. Well taught by Aunt Catherine, she knew the kings and queens of England back to the time of William the Conqueror. She could point to all the major countries on a map and recite her tables. Her writing was neat and she had far less trouble than most of her schoolmates in following the rule that only French must be spoken on one day each week.

  A natural ringleader, she was popular with the other girls. Miss Aldridge and Miss Mary soon discovered that if there was a midnight raid on the kitchens or someone had put glue on the blackboard rubber, Eliza was likely to be at the bottom of it. The detentions they imposed did little to curb her mischievous spirit. But they were good women and when she remained in Bath during the holidays and came to know them better, she responded well to the kindness they showed her.

  One day just before her sixteenth birthday, she was called to their private parlour.

  ‘How odd,’ she remarked to her best friend, Fanny Nichols. ‘I’m sure I’ve done nothing wrong this week. Oh well, I suppose I shall have to go.’

  But Miss Aldridge and Miss Mary were smiling. ‘We’ve received a letter from your mother, Eliza,’ Miss Aldridge said. ‘She’s coming from India to visit you. Isn’t that exciting?’

  Eliza frowned. Ten years had gone by since she had last seen her mother. She could hardly remember what she looked like. ‘Is my stepfather coming too?’ she asked.

  ‘No, he cannot leave India. But then I’m sure it’s your mother that you really want to see, isn’t it, my dear? The letter was sent only a few weeks before she sailed so not long until she comes now.’

  ‘What happened?’ Fanny asked when Eliza returned. ‘Are you in trouble for something?’

  ‘No, they wanted to tell me that my mother is coming.’

  ‘But that’s wonderful.’

  Eliza gave her a sideways look. ‘I hope so.’

  *

  On the day that Elizabeth was due to arrive, Eliza and Fanny were given permission to miss their usual afternoon reading and piano practice. Fanny squeezed Eliza’s arm as they walked down the corridor to the bedroom they shared. ‘You mustn’t fret, Eliza, your mother will love you, I know she will.’

  Eliza frowned. ‘I wish I could be as sure as you are, Fanny.’

  Fanny smiled. ‘Let me arrange your hair. You must look your best for her.’

  Eliza sat down at the little dressing table and looked in the mirror that hung on the wall above it. Fanny picked up a brush and loosened the pins that held the soft, black waves back from Eliza’s pale, oval face.

  ‘You’re so lucky to have such lovely skin,’ Fanny said. ‘Mine is all freckles. And your figure is much nicer than mine too.’ She looked down at the flat expanse of brown, school pinafore over her chest. ‘Mama says it will be better when I wear a corset but I’m not so sure.’

  She put down the brush and stood back. ‘I think a centre parting with the hair drawn back over your ears and fastened at the nape of your neck would look very grown-up.’

  Eliza watched as Fanny worked. When she had applied the finishing touch of her own favourite tortoiseshell clip, Eliza swivelled her head and surveyed the effect. ‘How lovely, thank you.’

  ‘I’m sure your mother will approve,’ Fanny beamed.

  An hour later, Eliza stood at the door of the Aldridges’ parlour. The tinkle of tea cups and a low murmur of conversation drifted through the polished wood, the familiar voices mingled with a strange one that must be her mother’s. Her hand shook as she raised it to knock. She felt sure that the whole school must be able to hear her heart thudding.

  ‘Ah, here you are, Eliza.’ Miss Aldridge gave an encouraging smile. ‘See, your mama has arrived. Say hello to her, dear, there’s no need to hang back.’

  Elizabeth Craigie remained in her chair. A few strands of grey silvered her auburn hair and her face was more lined than Eliza remembered, but she was still a very attractive woman. Eliza looked into the dark eyes with their appraising expression and felt a wave of disappointment at the lac
k of warmth she saw there.

  ‘Eliza! How you’ve grown,’ Elizabeth tilted her head a little to one side, ‘but how very ill your hair is dressed. We must do something about that at the first opportunity.’

  Miss Aldridge and Miss Mary exchanged covert glances of dismay.

  ‘Well, give me a kiss.’ Her mother proffered a scented cheek. ‘Aren’t you glad to see me?’

  ‘Your mama tells us she has found a house in Bath, Eliza,’ Miss Aldridge interposed. ‘Won’t that be lovely? You’ll continue to come to school in the day, but now you’ll have a home where you can spend your leisure hours.’

  ‘I don’t need a new home, I’m happy here.’

  Elizabeth Craigie gave a tight smile. ‘You’re not old enough to know what’s best for you, Eliza. Where you live is my decision.’

  ‘I’m sure Eliza didn’t mean any harm, Mrs Craigie,’ Miss Aldridge said hastily. ‘I expect she’s just a little overwhelmed by these sudden plans. That’s so, isn’t it, Eliza? I’m sure that when you’ve had time to get used to the idea, you’ll be very happy to be living with your mama.’

  Eliza did not reply.

  ‘Perhaps you’d like another piece of seed cake or some more tea, Mrs Craigie?’ Miss Mary asked in a flustered voice. She lifted the lid from the pot. ‘It looks a little strong I’m afraid. I’ll ring for some hot water, shall I?’

  Elizabeth cleared her throat. ‘You’re very kind, but please don’t trouble yourself for my sake. I really should be getting on. I have an appointment to discuss the furnishing of the house in an hour.’ She stood up, rearranged the skirt of her midnight-blue costume and picked up her parasol. ‘Thank you for your hospitality. I shall let you know when the house is ready for Eliza to come.’

  Without another word, she swept from the room. The swish of her skirts gave way to silence. It was Eliza who broke it. ‘May I go back to my room now?’ she asked in flat tone.

  ‘Of course, my dear,’ Miss Aldridge said awkwardly.

  Alone with Fanny, Eliza gave way to angry tears.

  Fanny put her arms around her. ‘Oh, Eliza! Did it go badly?’

  ‘It was horrible. She is horrible. She said my hair was ugly. And I have to go and live with her.’

  Tears sprang into Fanny’s own eyes. ‘You aren’t leaving school? We can still be friends, can’t we?’

  Eliza took the handkerchief Fanny offered and blew her nose then nodded. ‘I’m to come every day for my lessons, but I wish she’d not come back. I don’t think she loves me at all.’

  Chapter 4

  Eliza sat opposite her mother in the drawing room of the rented house in Walcott Street where they had set up home. Her eyes flashed. ‘I won’t do it! I won’t marry an old man. If Papa was still alive he wouldn’t make me.’

  Her mother bit her lip. Her visit to Bath was not going as she had planned. The city was not particularly amusing. Clearly it had lost the cachet it enjoyed when it was patronised by royalty. To make matters worse, Eliza had become even more wilful as a young girl than she had been a child.

  ‘I’m tired of telling you, Eliza,’ she snapped. ‘How many times must we go over this before you understand? You’re extremely fortunate that a wealthy gentleman like Sir Abraham Lumley is willing to marry you. You have practically nothing to offer in the way of a dowry, but you can look forward to a comfortable, secure life. You should be grateful that your stepfather and I have been able to make such a good match for you.’

  Eliza scowled. ‘I don’t care if Sir Abraham’s rich. I shall never love him.’

  ‘Love? Love is a luxury not everyone can afford, Eliza. One day you will learn that. Fortunately, it is perfectly possible to live without it. Many people do.’

  ‘You of all people would think so. You have certainly never loved me. You only came back to England to sell me to the first man who offered so you could be rid of me for good.’

  Elizabeth drew a sharp breath. ‘Eliza, you know perfectly well that your stepfather’s military duties kept him in India. My place was at his side. It was impossible for you to remain with us and be properly educated. That is the reason we sent you away.’

  ‘The only reason?’

  Elizabeth Craigie pursed her lips. ‘I can’t think what you mean. You had better spend the rest of the afternoon in your room. Perhaps a few hours on your own will bring you to your senses.’

  ‘Perhaps it won’t,’ Eliza muttered.

  ‘Insolence! When I’ve done my best for you! You’ll have a far better start than I did. Your father had nothing to—’

  She saw the surprised look on Eliza’s face and stopped. Her next words slipped out through tight lips. ‘Go to your room, Eliza. I don’t wish to discuss this again. The decision is made.’

  For a long moment, they faced each other. Eliza felt her heart pound, the blood rushing to her face as anger fought with tears. When she could endure the tension no longer, she jumped up and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

  Upstairs, she threw herself onto her bed, her knuckles white as she clenched the pillow. When she and Fanny had giggled about who they would marry, she had never anticipated a marriage without love or romance. Her eyes narrowed. Whatever it cost her, she would not marry Sir Abraham. She would not.

  *

  One morning a few days later she and her mother were sewing in the drawing room. It was a Wednesday. Usually she would have been at school, but the maid had a bad cold and had begged to be let off the duty of walking her to Camden Place. Apart from the rumble of carriages driving up and down Walcott Street, nothing disturbed the silence. Since their quarrel, the subject of Eliza’s marriage had not been raised again.

  Elizabeth Craigie took her scissors from the workbox on the table beside her and snipped a stray thread from the collar she was mending. ‘I believe Lieutenant James is back from London now,’ she remarked. ‘Perhaps he’ll come today.’

  Eliza grimaced. She could not understand why her mother was so taken with Thomas James. She often talked of how charming he had been on the voyage back from India where they had met, but he seemed so old, thirty at least, and not handsome. Still, he was more congenial than most of the decrepit Indian army officers who came with their faded wives to call.

  Elizabeth dropped the scissors back into her workbox. They fell with a clatter. ‘I hope you’ll be civil if he comes, Eliza. Goodness knows, we have few enough visitors. Bath is really very tiresome. In India, I was constantly being called upon.’

  Eliza made another stitch in her embroidery.

  Her mother rapped the arm of her chair. ‘Are you listening to me, Eliza?’

  ‘Yes, Mama, but I’m sure Lieutenant James has as little interest in my company as I have in his.’

  Elizabeth coloured. ‘I’ve told you before, Eliza, I won’t tolerate this insolence.’

  A knock on the door halted the argument before it could brew any further. ‘Lieutenant James is here to see you, ma’am,’ the maid snuffled, her eyes rimmed pink with her cold.

  ‘Mrs Craigie! Eliza! Good morning.’ Thomas James stood beaming in the doorway. ‘What a charming picture you make together.’

  If he thinks that, Eliza mused, he doesn’t notice very much.

  Elizabeth Craigie patted her hair and brightened. ‘Lieutenant James, what a pleasure! We have just been talking of you. We’ve been very dull today with no visitors. I count on you to raise our spirits.’

  Thomas James bent to kiss her hand. ‘I’ll do my best to make up for the deficiencies of the ungrateful inhabitants of Bath who should be wearing out the cobbles on the path to your door.’

  He turned to Eliza. ‘And how is dear Eliza this morning? No lessons to go to?’

  Eliza threw a triumphant glance in her mother’s direction. It was pleasant to be able to draw attention to the fact that they had so few servants. She knew it rankled with Elizabeth.

  ‘I’m very well, thank you, Lieutenant James. I couldn’t go to school this morning as our maid has a bad cold.
She usually walks with me, and we have no one else to take her place.’

  With satisfaction, she saw her mother flush.

  ‘Do tell us the news from town,’ Eizabeth said quickly. ‘Is King William still unwell?’

  ‘I fear so, ma’am, but the papers report that he is determined to see in another anniversary of Waterloo. If his will is stronger than his constitution, I suppose he may live until then.’

  ‘And when he’s gone, we shall have the young princess. They say she’s very wilful.’ Elizabeth directed a sideways glance at her daughter. ‘It’s most unseemly in a young girl.’

  Eliza didn’t speak and, sensing the antipathy between mother and daughter, although he did not understand the reason for it, Thomas changed the subject. ‘Should the maid be indisposed tomorrow, I’d be glad to offer any help you may need. If your mama agrees, I’d be honoured to escort you to school.’

  ‘How kind of you, Lieutenant James. I do hate to miss my lessons.’

  ‘I’m sure you are an excellent pupil.’

  Eliza rewarded him with a dazzling smile.

  ‘We wouldn’t dream of troubling you, Lieutenant James,’ Elizabeth said.

  ‘Oh, but I insist. It will be no trouble at all, and perhaps on my return, I might have the honour of escorting you to the Pump Room, Mrs Craigie?’

  Elizabeth sighed. ‘Thank you. Perhaps it will do me some good. I fear that the damp climate of England does not suit my constitution.’

  Thomas bowed. ‘No one would know it, ma’am. You are, as always, the picture of beauty and health.’

  ‘Until tomorrow, Eliza.’ He smiled. ‘I promise to be punctual.’

  *

  In fact, he arrived early the next morning. Eliza thought he looked particularly smart.

  It had rained heavily in the night and the pavements gleamed. As they turned the corner into the Royal Crescent, a brisk wind tugged at the strings of her bonnet. ‘I hope you aren’t cold?’ he asked.