Page 22

Madeleine still had the precious pineapple in a bag which she put at her feet as she sat on the chair by the bed. ‘Well, Grandmama, you won’t believe me when I say we found a baby on the doorstep of a friend’s house!’

Madeleine thought the old lady would think it a flight of fancy, straight from one of her granddaughter’s stories, but Lady Lockhart nodded gravely. ‘It happened quite a number of times when I was young. Babies being left by their poor mothers on the doorsteps of various noblemen of ill repute.’

Madeleine was immediately interested. ‘What would happen then?’

‘If the man was married with a family, his by-blow would sometimes be brought up with his legitimate children, while others would end up in the Foundling or be adopted by one of the servants on the nobleman’s estate. Is this friend you mention a libertine?’

Madeleine was shocked by the question. Her view of Ferdinand Shilton was noble and heroic, but she realised that, in truth, she knew him barely at all. ‘I don’t think so. He was as astonished as I was. But everything is complicated by the fact the baby, who is about nine months old and crawling, looks remarkably like him.’ Madeleine broke off with a smile at the memory of Billy hauling himself to stand using Mr Shilton’s immaculately accoutred knee. ‘Unfortunately, this gentleman is due to be married soon to a very proper young lady.’

Lady Lockhart’s laugh was unusually youthful. ‘Oh what a pickle!’ Her brilliant eyes had been on her granddaughter’s face and she asked, ‘And who is this gentleman, pray?’

Madeleine hesitated, then said, ‘I’m sure it will be all round the servants’ halls by now, so perhaps it’s not indiscreet to tell you, Grandmama. He’s Ferdinand Shilton of Brook Street.’

Lady Lockhart’s eyes had become even more like gimlets. ‘And what is this Mr Shilton to you?’

Madeleine started. ‘Why, nothing,’ she said a bit too quickly, then added, ‘He’s affianced to a very appropriate bride. He cannot mean anything to me in that way.’

Lady Lockhart’s thin, blue-veined hand reached out and took Madeleine’s. ‘My dear child. It’s obvious to me that this Mr Shilton – I think I know him by repute – matters a great deal to you. Why deny it?’

‘Because, Grandmama, he is very rich and very handsome and has the pick of young women for his wife. And he has made his choice.’

‘Well, that is a pity. I presume he’s honourable too and so is not likely to be the one to break off any betrothal.’

‘Exactly, Grandmama! But even if he were free, he only thinks of me as amusing, a bit of an odd creature. I have no beauty or fortune to commend me.’

‘Tsk! Tsk! I don’t want to hear such talk from a Lockhart. Your mother may have married an inferior sort in Theodore Rose, but you are always a Lockhart to me.’

Madeleine broke into a peal of laughter. ‘Oh Grandmama, I never thought you insisted on such social categories! I’m sure Papa was a very good sort of man, he was a fine musician with some noble blood in his lineage, and Mama liked him enough to risk breaking with her family.’

‘It’s good to hear you laugh, my girl, it cheers me up.’ The old lady was chuckling herself. ‘As for your Mama’s choices in love, she was always a bit of a ninny, you know. Very different from you, my dear, not a fool at all, but rather too imaginative, perhaps, for your own good.’

‘Well, I’m gratified to hear I’m no fool, but you can’t dismiss Mama as one just for following her heart.’

She was aware of her grandmother’s shrewd eyes upon her as the old lady continued, ‘I know you’ve had a difficult start in life, but that’s no reason to consider yourself unworthy of affectionate esteem. When it’s offered, accept it with good grace.’ She started to pleat the sheet with her small bony fingers and seemed deep in thought. ‘Do you wish to marry, Madeleine?’

Madeleine was surprised by the question. Her grandmother did not usually talk of personal things. ‘Having no parents or siblings, I would very much like to have my own family one day. That foundling baby on Mr Shilton’s doorstep clutched at my heart. I wish I could take care of him.’

Lady Lockhart said with surprising force, ‘As an unmarried woman, you most certainly cannot do any such thing and retain your reputation. Malicious gossip would say it was yours! And that would be the end of your chances.’

Madeleine thought it better to change the subject. ‘I have a present for you from Edwin.’ She picked up the bag and extracted the handsome pineapple with its sweet peppery scent.

Lady Lockhart’s face lit up as she put out her hands and drew it to her face to sniff. ‘Oh, what a treat. I’ll ask Cook to cut it up and we can all have a taste.’ As it was carried down to the kitchen, the old lady looked across at her granddaughter. ‘I’m well aware it was your idea, not Edwin’s.’

Madeleine did not wish for the credit to be laid at her door. ‘But it was Edwin who rose early from his bed and went to the Docks to find one for you, Grandmama. I merely mentioned you might appreciate a pineapple. He did the rest.’

‘Well, I’d quite appreciate a visit from the reprobate boy! But enough about that.’ Her voice was fading with fatigue. ‘Would you play for me, Madeleine, that Field nocturne we like so much?’

There was a small harpsichord in front of the window and Madeleine began to play. As the arpeggios and dolcissimos spilled from her fingers, she looked across at her grandmother, whose eyes had closed; the light and liveliness had left her face and she looked what she was: an old, ill woman, close to death. Madeleine’s heart was touched with the pathos of a life drawing to its close, reminded as she was of the pallor and struggle for breath of her own parents. They were much younger than Lady Lockhart and their deaths could not have been more devastating to her, a girl on the threshold of life, but in the end the paper-thin skin and frailty were the same.

She walked softly to the old woman’s drowsing figure and kissed her on the cheek. For an instant, those remarkable eyes flickered open and she smiled. ‘Don’t forget to ask Cook for some of the pineapple before you go. I’ll have a little later with my supper. Thank Edwin for me. So thoughtful.’

4

TO FOUNDLING OR NOT

Ferdinand Shilton retreated to his library feeling more unsettled than he had ever felt in his life before. He realised how charmed that life had been, where nothing much ruffled his tranquillity of mind, and if it did, he had the means to pay for it to go away. But here under his roof was a baby about whom he knew nothing except, unluckily, the child looked like him. He really did not know what to do. He wished his friends were in Town, then he could ask their advice; of them all, Corinna would know best, as a highly competent woman and the mother of two young children of her own. Instead, he had Lord Flambard, hardly the steadiest of counsels, and Ferdy Shilton was uncertain just what scandal that libidinous nobleman was brewing up with his own soon-to-be mother-in-law. Just the thought made his stomach clench with anxiety, a feeling he loathed.

He sank into his favourite chair, his hair in unusual disarray. Billy had grabbed it before he could hand him over to Mabel, whom his redoubtable cook, Mrs Moffat, had recommended as the best girl for the task, being the eldest of eleven herself. He also feared for the arm of his beautiful blue superfine coat that had supported Billy’s bottom in a damp pilcher and hoped Gordon, his valet, could remove any whiff of infant urine. He poured himself a large measure of brandy and wondered how best to tell Miss Payton of the arrival in his house of this new, inconvenient visitor.