Chapter Two

Sir Henry Lamb was late.

It was what came to mind first as Millicent, now decked out in a show of her father’s wealth and need to impress - a silk taffeta gown from the finest seamstress in the city - and stared pointedly at the front door. And the man was late.

She didn’t care how unladylike it was, she spent the next few minute huffing and puffing indignantly as she paced the length on the drawing room which had been prepared with utmost care so that it reflected the family well. In plainer terms, the walls were lined with bookshelves which held the rarest tomes money could buy but despite the obvious wealth the furniture exuded, the place felt very stark and bare. If her father had allowed her to hang at least one portrait in the room it might have made a difference but as it was, the place was functional and opulent. It held no life.

“Stop pacing, if you don’t sit down and prepare yourself for his arrival Miss Clancy, I will tell you all about the mechanics your father was talking about so you will blush your way through the meeting.” Ms Wright sniffed and looked down at her nails. “Then the poor man will think you are positively in love with him and come back for more visits and probably offer you a proposal.”

Millie opened and closed her mouth, her feet stilling as her eyes widened in the sheer horror of the thought. Gulping loudly, her feet tripped over themselves before throwing her body into the nearest armchair. It was as far from perfectly ladylike as she could get, with her shoulders drooped and her head resting upon her chest but the corset kept her posture straight and the skirts hid the fact that the young woman was sitting much like her father would. Thus when a man strode abruptly into the room without announcing his presence in a flurry of pipe smoke and a billowing tail coat, his eyes fell upon the wilting flower.

“Cheer up Lady Clancy, such a beautiful young woman should not look so positively miserable.”

Millie tried to stop the laugh that welled within her throat which caused her to splutter and cough until her face was as red as the cook’s favourite tomatoes.

Ever the woman of propriety, Emma stood from her chair in a graceful sweep and offered the man a warm smile though only someone who knew the woman as well as Millie would have noted that the twitching in her cheek was due to her own attempt at restraining laugher.

“Sir Lamb, it is an honour to meet you.” She lowered herself in a demure curtsey that would make even the Queen proud before rising and meeting the odd man’s gaze.

For Sir Henry Lamb was most definitely an odd character. His face was starting to show the first signs of age and yet the eyes, which were the colour of the first leaves of spring, held an eternal youth that burned brighter than any other part of his being. His clothing was made of the finest fabrics that money could buy and yet they were worn and well loved, with eccentric embellishments which told of the man’s multitude of tastes. But most definable in his looks were the things the man had become known for all over town, the rather sizeable mutton chops that framed his face. It gave him a rugged and yet powerful grace about him despite his disposition to be flighty and follow where his fancies take him.

“And it is an honour to meet you too my Lady.”  He pulled the smouldering pipe from his lips and placed his warm dry lips on the back of her hand.

The scent of his pipe clung to him like a second skin, overwhelming the room with its sweet odour that was so unlike the tobacco that Mr Clancy favoured. For once the governess did not wrinkle her nose and flinch when she felt his breath washing over the back of her hand.

“And may I introduce you to the Lady of the house Miss Millicent Clancy.”

Stepping aside regally, the movement allowed the eccentric looking man to set his green eyes upon the young woman. Millie made no effort to appear welcoming thus the man faltered in his smile when he saw the scowl she sent his way. All too quickly, when she noted his reaction, the Lady of the house gave his the most angelic expression that had ever appeared on her features.

Quite used to parlour tricks of those in society, Sir Henry Lamb reformed his smile and turned his full attention upon his possible bride while his hands nervously stroked the length of his mutton chops. It took several strokes until he soothed his suspicious mind and slightly paranoid mind. Most did not take too well to his eccentricities.

Quickly everyone set about having tea but the atmosphere did not ease in the slightest. As a result, the trio spent the next ten minutes sitting opposite one another with their backs ramrod straight, though Millie stiff posture was mainly due to her corset, while they each carefully avoided the other’s gaze.

It was only when the man, still stroking his mutton chops, let a giggle escape his lips that things changed.

“Goodness me, I have never heard of two women who can be so silent in the presence of a man. Usually they are clucking and preening so often that one longs for silence.” Sighing as if he had found the answer to life’s mysteries, he struck a match against his cheek and relit his pipe, unaware that he now had two pairs of eyes upon him. “Maybe I should let the town’s men know that it only take an awkward introduction to still the mouth of a woman.”

Millie might have shouted at the man for his audacity if she hadn’t caught the twinkle in his eye and the warmth in his voice. It was obvious to her that it was merely a joke. Miss Wright however, was not being as observant as she usually was and instead of the wide eyed expression, with which she had regarded this oddly eccentric man every few seconds out of the corner of her eye since his arrival, her face quickly morphed into a frown.

She was not one of these activists who demanded equal rights but neither was the woman a shrew in any shape or form. Setting her now steel hard gaze upon the oddity before her, she sniffed in disapproval.

“If that is how you see women, something to be seen and not heard, then I firmly suggest you remove yourself from this room.”

Sir Lamb looked like he either wanted to laugh out loud or set about huffing and puffing in a dramatic show of disagreement that men with status were often known to do. However Ms Wright, who was probably born within a year or two of the man, was on a mission and she proceeded to give him a verbal lashing as if he were her errant child in need of discipline.

“I will not tolerate a man to ruin the spirit of another friend. I’ve seen it happen too often and I will not sit idly by and watch it happen again. Now watch your tongue Henry,” she purposely used his first name to emphasise her lack of respect for him now that he had supposedly made his opinion known. “If you do not, I will wash it out with soap. You might be lucky and swallow enough of the arsenic within before you truly feel my anger.”

Flicking his floppy blonde hair from his face and fingering his facial hair Sir Henry regarded her with something akin to calculation. The expression did not fit with who he was, it looked upon his features which were so often used for smiles and laughter not cold calculation and thinking.

After a second the odd man broke the silence when he chuckled and straightened out his worn suit.

“I am sorry for any offence caused, my words were not meant to harm.” He looked sheepishly down at the carpet, truly looking like a child who had just been dressed down. Peering up through his hair, he widened his eyes and begged with those green orbs to the heart of the woman opposite. “I only meant to break the silence not cause injury to yourself or Lady Clancy. If you would both accept my offer of tickets to the theatre as a way of repairing the damage I would be most grateful.”

He darted his eyes towards the beautiful blonde sitting beside the injured party causing Millie to shift uncomfortably. She did not want to spend any more time with the man even if he was less overbearing and repulsive compared to the rest of her father’s associates.

Stuttering and blushing, Ms Wright was at a loss for words and instead lowered her gaze to her hands. Her eyes searched the creamy smooth skin there as if the script for her reply were written there for her to see.

Eventually she braved a glance up, a tendril which had fallen from her up-do fell in front of her eyes while the light shone through the window just so. Sir Henry drew in a sharp breath of air as he surveyed the beauty opposite him, the way that the light smoothened over the skin on her cheek that was normally dappled with yellow and pink scars. He knew the story about those scars. Everyone in town knew about the tragic story behind this young woman who had once been the most eligible woman in town and was now nothing more than a mere governess.

And then the clouds disappeared and the scars became as uneven and unappealing to look at as they had been before. Millie had been watching this interaction, though silent and uncommunicative, with a hopeful heart. When she saw the look on Sir Henry’s face soften and tilt to the side so he could admire her friend, Millie’s brows drew together and immediately she started doing some thinking of her own.

“We accept milord,” Millicent offered daintily, finally acting her part of a shy young lady. Yet Emma, whose head had shot up at her words, saw the calculation upon her features. “How does Friday sound? I am sure that will give you ample time to arrange tickets and it will give us time to prepare for such an outing.”

Emma opened and closed her mouth several times, looking pleadingly at her young companion. She knew her charge well because she had reared her from a young age and without a doubt, she was up to something.

“I will collect you in my coach,” Sir Henry confirmed, his own enthusiasm now taking over so that his fingers were stroking away as his left mutton chop while his other hand held his now cold pipe loosely between his fingers. “It is much too dangerous for two ladies to be about town unescorted. Yes, I will I come and collect you myself and then we will go on from there to the theatre. I hear they will be doing a lovely production of Shakespeare’s Midsummer’s Night’s Dream. I heard the machines they use there are some of the most realistic to ever be made – your father is a true creator – but of course they will never be able to truly replicate the emotion of the piece.”

He chuckled away to himself for a second before pushing to his feet just as the clock chimed for the hour.

“Alas that is my cue.” He swept into a bow, his hair falling forwards as he lowered his body before flicking it back in a absent flourish as he straightened once more.

“’til Friday,” He promised, taking Millie’s hand first and placing a kiss on the back of her hand.

Henry then turned his attention to the woman who had held his attention raptly only moments before. He took her hand, his thumb caressing over the back before he bent his head and placed a kiss lingeringly on the skin there.

“Until we meet again Miss Wright.” The words caressed over her, and she drew in a sharp breath only to drag her hand away when one finger swept tantalisingly under the fabric of her dress, sweeping across her pulse point and the ruined skin that laid there.

Clearing her throat, she gave the man a smile but it did not reach her eyes. “Yes, until Friday.”

No more was said and after a minute of awkward silence, Sir Henry Lamb bowed his head to the women once more and swept from the room as abruptly as he came.

The door clicked shut softly behind him. Millie and Emma, as different as day and night, regarded one another shrewdly.

Finally, the older of the two broke the silence, pushing the stray hair from her face with a huff.

“Do you intend to marry the man then?” She put forwards before clicking her tongue. “No, although he is not as boorish as the rest of your suitors, I do not believe that such a man as he could sway you from your determination not to marry and have children. Just like I know you will never have a ring upon your finger.”

Patting down her dress, she finally met the eyes of her charge.

“You’re up to something and I don’t think I like it. Just promise me you will keep me out of it this time.” The older woman looked away but not before the heiress of the Clancy fortune saw the tears forming in her eyes and instantly felt guilt well up within her stomach. Stretching out her hand, she grasped the woman’s hand and held onto it tightly until Emma decided she was strong enough and squeezed it back.

She drew away.

“I can’t go through that again Miss Clancy, my heart isn’t strong enough to take it.”

Millie stared at the door for a long time after her surrogate mother had left. Her lip started to bleed as she gnawed on it and her hands worried her skirts. She felt the age old guilt fill her heart and hold on to it tightly but she held on to her conviction.

“You can be happy.” She murmured the words under her breath but wished that Emma would somehow hear them. For her governess and best friend often did not believe she could have that happiness. She was fine with passing through life with relative ease but she did not hunger for happiness and contentment like everyone else in this city.

Shaking her head, the young woman tried to remove the depressed aura that clung to her like a second skin. The morning was not turning out to be a good one, Millie decided he eyes being drawn to the floor to match her sadness. First she had found out one of her closest acquaintances had their heart stolen from their chest and now all of this had been returned to the surface.

In a second, she was unpinning her hair and reaching for the fastenings of her dress as she crossed the room. Her heart heaved in her chest and the young woman’s face became flushed as she dropped her hair pins to the floor.

“I need to get out,” she murmured desperately as her hand finally managed to unclasp the back of her dress.

Twenty minutes later, Millie’s taffeta dress lay over her bed, the curtains flapping in the wind that blew through the open window. It brought a chill to the room but the young woman didn’t care. She was free and running across the grass as fast as her feet could carry her.