Becoming Lola Read online

  ‘Not at all, I love windy days.’

  ‘And if I may say so, they impart a most charming colour to your cheeks.’

  Eliza stifled a laugh. Lieutenant James was flirting with her. How cross that would make Mama. ‘You tease me, sir.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of taking such a liberty,’ he chuckled. ‘It’s the truth.’

  They walked on in silence.

  ‘I wish you would tell me about Princess Victoria,’ Eliza said after a few moments. ‘I don’t think Mama approves of her behaviour, but surely, if she is to be queen, she will need to know her own mind?’

  ‘I’ve often thought so, although naturally, a child should respect their parents.’ He puffed out his chest, her interest encouraging him to go on. ‘Of course the princess’s mother, the Duchess of Kent, is much influenced by her favourite, Sir John Conroy. It is at his urging that the princess has been forced to live a life full of rules and restrictions – they call it the Kensington system. It does seem undesirable for a girl who will need to know and understand a great deal about her country, and her people, if they are to love her. It will be a hard enough task to win their hearts. The monarchy has lost so much respect thanks to the dissipations of King George and King William.’

  Eliza’s mind had wandered from his dull little lecture. With a start, she realised he had stopped talking. ‘Is the princess beautiful?’ she asked. It was a far more interesting topic.

  ‘I doubt she could match you, my dear.’

  By now they had reached Camden Place and stood at the school porch. Thomas looked downcast. ‘Ah, we’ve arrived already,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you so much, Lieutenant James.’

  ‘Surely we don’t need to be so formal, Eliza? I’d like it very much if you would call me Thomas.’

  She gave him a sweet smile. ‘Then thank you, Thomas.’

  He bowed. ‘Well, I suppose I must leave you. I hope you enjoy your lessons.’

  ‘Oh, I shall,’ she said sweetly. ‘And thank you again.’

  She turned to go into the school but in the hallway, she waited a few moments then peeked through the window by the door. Thomas stood on the pavement, staring at the house. With a satisfied smile, Eliza went to join her school friends.

  ‘I think I shall steal Mama’s cavalier,’ she joked to Fanny as they ate dumplings and mutton stew at dinner time. ‘It would be great fun.’

  Fanny’s eyes widened. ‘Eliza, you are wicked. You wouldn’t, would you?’

  Eliza laughed. ‘Of course not, he’s far too old and dull.’

  Fanny hesitated.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I just wondered if your mama had said anything more about your marriage.’

  Eliza shrugged. ‘She mentioned it again yesterday evening but I refused to talk about it.’

  ‘Did she tell you any more about the man she has chosen for you?’

  ‘Sir Abraham Lumley? Oh, he’s old and he’s lived in India for most of his life. I expect he’s as wrinkled as a tortoise and just as tedious.’

  Fanny frowned. ‘If he’s so old, has he never been married?’

  ‘I think Mama said he was, but his wife died. I expect he bored her to death.’

  Fanny giggled, then sobered. ‘Oh Eliza, be serious, you’ll have to do as your parents say, you know. In the end, we all do.’

  Eliza shook her head. ‘I want more from my life, Fanny, and I mean to have it.’

  *

  The maid recovered and the following day, she and Eliza left the house for the walk to school. It was a warm morning and the gardens outside the houses they passed were gay with geraniums and roses. As they turned the corner out of Walcott Street, they met Thomas coming the other way.

  He raised his hat. ‘Good day to you, Eliza.’

  ‘Oh! You startled me.’

  ‘I wondered if I might keep you company again? It’s such a fine morning for a walk.’ Without waiting for her answer, he turned to the maid and handed her a penny. ‘I’ll go the rest of the way with Miss Eliza. I’m sure you can amuse yourself for an hour.’

  A flicker of uncertainty crossed the girl’s face. He scowled. ‘What are you waiting for?’

  ‘Should I go back and tell the mistress?’

  ‘No need for that. She won’t mind.’

  The maid bobbed a curtsey and trotted away.

  After that, Thomas walked with Eliza every day and the maid amassed enough pennies to ensure her continued silence. They talked of many things and Eliza started to enjoy the attention he paid to her opinions and the patience with which he answered her questions.

  In London, King William fulfilled his ambition to see in another anniversary of Waterloo then died the following day. Eliza often thought of the young Victoria. Only two years older than me, she mused, and her own mistress. In some ways, our history is similar. We both lost a father when we were very young and we both have mothers who are too selfish to care for our happiness.

  She felt a surge of hope at the stories of how Victoria had refused to continue sharing a bedroom with her mother as she had done at Kensington Palace, and how she had thwarted the duchess’s ambitions for her favourite, Sir John Conroy. That would pay him back for bullying his future queen.

  The man Victoria had turned to was her prime minister, Lord Melbourne. Eliza thought he sounded entrancing. Who could be more delightful than a charming man of the world with a rakish past?

  ‘They say the queen puts complete trust in him. He’s become like a father to her,’ Thomas remarked one day when Eliza had raised her favourite subject. He gave her a sideways glance. ‘With her own father snatched away too soon, a young girl needs a man like that, wouldn’t you agree?’ He tucked her arm more firmly into his own, and she didn’t resist.

  When he was not escorting her to school, Thomas paid frequent calls at Walcott Street. He often brought Eliza books and they read the poetry of Tennyson and Wordsworth together. She listened to his stories of his military service in India and laughed at his jokes. When she tried to teach him the steps of a Russian folk dance she had learnt at Camden Place, his long legs refused to keep up with her and they both ended up convulsed with breathless laughter. Gleefully, Eliza sneaked a glance at her mother and saw the sour expression on her face.

  ‘I’ve been learning a new piano piece,’ she remarked one evening when Thomas was with them. ‘Would you turn the pages for me?’

  He stepped briskly to her side and, as she played the opening bars, she leant towards him a little. When he turned the page for her, she felt his arm brush hers. She smiled at him under her lashes and saw an answering flash of his very white teeth. He was not handsome, but he was tall and his regimentals gave him presence. She liked it too that he smelt of tobacco and leather. The menservants at Walcott Street and Camden Place just smelt of coal or boot blacking. Unless it was a bath day, then they smelt of carbolic soap.

  ‘I’ve never heard Chopin sound so delightful,’ Thomas murmured when she had finished.

  Elizabeth shivered. ‘Very nice, Eliza, but how cold it is in here. Fetch my shawl from upstairs, please.’

  Eliza stood up from the piano stool and walked slowly to the door. She felt Thomas’s eyes on her. Outside in the passage, she leant against the wall and caught her breath. Her heart thudded. Mama was annoyed and that was good, but something about Thomas’s touch made her feel confused. She closed her eyes. I won’t think of it now, she resolved. It’s far too hard to make out.

  *

  On her return from school the following afternoon, Eliza found her mother alone in the drawing room. Something in her manner – the too-friendly smile, the forced brightness in her voice – made Eliza’s heart hammer against her ribs. She felt light headed. ‘Good afternoon, Mama,’ she said warily. ‘I hope you had a pleasant day.’

  ‘A busy one,’ Elizabeth said briskly. ‘Now go and tidy yourself, I’ve already rung the bell for tea.’

  Upstairs, Eliza took off her cloak and bonnet and smoothed her ha
ir. The feeling of foreboding that had started in the drawing room grew stronger. As she walked back downstairs, her hand trembled on the banister. In the hall, she heard her mother telling the maid off for something. When she opened the door, the girl scuttled past her and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

  Elizabeth looked up. ‘Ah, here you are, Eliza. Sit down, dear, while I pour the tea.’

  Eliza perched on the hard, uncomfortable chair by the fire and waited.

  ‘I received a letter from your stepfather this morning,’ Elizabeth remarked, handing her a cup and saucer. The astringent scent of her mother’s favourite Earl Grey rose to Eliza’s nostrils; her stomach curdled. Elizabeth ploughed on. ‘We’ll be leaving Bath soon. He’s arranged our passage back to India.’

  Eliza set down her teacup with a clatter. ‘But am I not to finish school?’

  ‘No. Your stepfather and I have to come to a decision. Sir Abraham Lumley may not wait for much longer. It’s time we gave him an answer.’

  ‘Then it must be no.’

  ‘On the contrary, it must be yes. It’s time you got all this romantic nonsense out of your head, Eliza. You should count yourself lucky. Some parents would beat it out of you.’

  Eliza was on her feet, striding to the door.

  ‘Come back here! Don’t you dare leave the room while I’m talking! Do you hear me, Eliza? Eliza!’

  Eliza ran upstairs, locked the bedroom door behind her and threw herself down on her bed. She clenched a handful of the pillow in her fist. Her thoughts raced but one was clear and constant: somehow she must escape.

  Later, when she slept, dreams tormented her. An ancient man with an ugly face loomed in the doorway to her bedroom. ‘Sir Adrian Lumley! Make way, make way,’ a voice boomed. Then she was being prepared for her wedding, laced into a dress that made it hard to breathe. Her mother was decorating her hair with feathers, but the quills dug into her scalp and she screamed. She tried to run, but the heavy dress tangled around her feet and pulled her down. As she fell, a man’s hand reached out to her but her fingertips only grazed it before it slipped away.

  She woke shaking to find she was trapped in a tangle of twisted sheets. Outside the window, it was already light. She got up and went to the mirror. Her eyes were puffy and her head throbbed. The dream was still vivid. She wondered who the man had been. Could he have been Papa or was he Thomas James?

  There were footsteps in the corridor then a rap at the door. ‘Come out now, Eliza,’ her mother’s voice called.

  ‘No, I won’t.’ Eliza stuffed her fingers in her ears to blot out her mother’s angry tirade. It seemed a long time before Elizabeth Craigie stomped away.

  ‘I hope you’ve decided to be sensible,’ she said sharply when, hungry and thirsty, Eliza came down to dinner that evening. The maid had already served the soup and left them alone. ‘Your stepfather and I only want the best for you. You’ll never find a more eligible husband than Sir Abraham. I’m surprised you’re not grateful that we’ve done so well for you.’

  Eliza didn’t answer and her mother frowned. ‘I suppose I can’t expect thanks from such an ungrateful daughter. Well, I won’t dwell on it, there’s a lot to be done before we sail. You’ll need a trousseau of course. There are plenty of good dressmakers in Bath and your stepfather has been very generous with your allowance. You may as well leave Camden Place at the end of the week.’

  A knot of panic tightened in Eliza’s stomach. Her mother really meant to marry her off. There was to be no escape.

  *

  ‘I’ve heard from my husband,’ Elizabeth remarked on Thomas’s next visit. ‘Eliza and I sail for Calcutta in a few weeks.’

  ‘So soon?’

  ‘Yes, it is a little sooner than I anticipated, but Eliza is to be married.’

  ‘Married?’

  ‘To Sir Abraham Lumley. It’s an excellent match. Eliza is extremely lucky. He’s a senior judge with a considerable fortune - quite a catch for any woman.’

  Eliza saw Thomas give her an oblique glance. She lowered her eyes. ‘May I congratulate you, Eliza?’ he asked.

  She heard the unease in his voice. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. Her own voice was so quiet that the words were almost inaudible.

  ‘Eliza is a little overwhelmed, as you can see.’

  Thomas cleared his throat and laughed awkwardly. ‘As any young lady would be.’ He looked at Eliza earnestly. ‘Bath will be the poorer without her - without both of you, I mean to say.’

  *

  The next morning, as they walked to school, a few minutes passed before Thomas broke the silence. ‘I can’t deny that your mother’s news alarmed me.’

  A tear rolled down Eliza’s cheek. ‘I’m so unhappy.’

  He found a handkerchief in his pocket and gave it to her. ‘You don’t like the man?’

  She dabbed at her eyes. ‘I’ve never met him. He’s very old, at least sixty. Mama says his age will not matter, but I know it will.’

  ‘Have you told your mother how you feel?’

  With a mute nod, Eliza began to cry again. ‘It makes no difference to her,’ she sobbed. ‘Oh Thomas, what shall I do? If Papa were still alive, he would never have made me marry a man I could not love.’

  She heard his sharp intake of breath. ‘Then let me take his place, Eliza. I can be like a father to you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Come away with me. You shan’t marry Lumley. I’ll keep you safe.’

  ‘Oh Thomas, would you really do that?’

  He squeezed her arm. ‘For you, my dear, I would do anything.’

  ‘And Mama?’

  ‘She’ll soon forgive you, I’m sure. We could come back to Bath then.’

  Eliza looked down at the ground. Was this the way out she had longed for? Surely it must be? She felt the pressure of his fingers on her arm.

  ‘You can trust me, Eliza. What do you say?’

  She hesitated.

  ‘I swear it on my honour, Eliza. You’ll be safe with me. I’d do anything rather than see you unhappy.’

  She raised her eyes to his. The expression in them looked so earnest, it convinced her. She took his outstretched hand. ‘Yes, Thomas,’ she said. ‘Yes, I’ll come with you.’

  Chapter 5

  The hired horses strained in the shafts as they pulled the carriage up the steep Bristol road and away from Bath. When they crested the hill, Eliza looked back at the old city, asleep under a starlit sky. ‘What an adventure.’ She laughed. ‘Mama will be furious when she finds out.’

  Thomas chuckled and squeezed her arm. ‘She’ll soon get over it and tell Sir Abraham to find someone else to marry.’ He rolled down the window and leant out. ‘Hurry along, my good fellow. I’ll make it worth your while.’

  The moon was high in the sky and the night half over by the time they reached a small village. ‘We’ll stop here for a rest,’ Thomas said as they drew up at the only inn. He climbed down and rapped with his cane on the door. In the yard at the side of the building, a chained dog jumped to its feet and started to bark. After a few minutes, they heard the sound of bolts drawing back and a man peered through a chink in the door.

  ‘What do you want, waking honest folks up at this time of night?’

  Thomas produced a gold coin from his pocket and rubbed it between his finger and thumb. ‘Our carriage shed a wheel on the road and my grooms were four hours mending it,’ he said loftily. We require a room for the night.’

  The man’s expression brightened and he opened the door wider.

  ‘Come in then.’

  He goggled when he saw Eliza step from the carriage. Thomas led her inside and took her over to the fireplace where dying embers glowed in the ash-strewn grate. She spread out her hands to the faint warmth while Thomas went back to the landlord. She couldn’t help noticing the sly grin the man directed at her. A flush rose to her cheeks as she saw him laugh, then a sharp word from Thomas silenced him.

  Thomas came back to where she sat. �
��I’m sorry, Eliza, the ruffian says there’s only one room left. We shall have to make do. There is, apparently, a large chair. I can sleep in that.’

  ‘Won’t you be very uncomfortable?’

  He smiled gallantly. ‘I’ve slept in far worst places on campaign.’

  They drank some wine while they waited for the room to be made ready then followed the landlord up the stairs. The sickly light of his oil lamp illuminated a narrow passage with dingy walls, but when they reached the room, they found it clean and dry with a large, mullioned window overlooking the street. The landlord put the lamp down on the table by the window. ‘I hope it’s to your liking.’

  ‘It will do,’ Thomas answered curtly.

  When he had left them, Eliza stood uncertainly by the bed. Thomas came over to her and put a reassuring hand on her arm. ‘Shall I turn my back while you get ready?’ he asked.

  She nodded.

  He crossed to the window and stared out at the deserted street. Eliza took off her shoes and began to remove her dress. She was not used to managing without the help of a maid and her fingers fumbled with the ribbons and buttons. At last, she stood in nothing but her shift, the rough floorboards cold beneath her bare feet. She climbed into bed and pulled the much-mended, red eiderdown up to her chin. ‘I’m done now,’ she whispered.

  Thomas went to the oil lamp and blew it out. She heard a series of creaks, then a soft whoosh of air as he settled himself in the chair. She lay staring at the darkness and thought how silent it was. If there were other people staying at the inn, they slept very noiselessly.

  After a few minutes, she heard Thomas shift in the chair.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she whispered.

  ‘Damn thing has broken springs,’ he muttered. ‘It’s like sleeping on a bed of nails.’ He gave an awkward laugh. ‘Might there be a bit of room for me in that big bed?’

  She didn’t answer, but a moment later she felt the mattress sag. ‘Thomas?’