Will You Love Me in September

I have a fine house and am mistress of it. It makes me feel happy to be wanted, for I was not at Hessenfield, and even dear Uncle Paul was never completely warm toward me. He was a most conventional man and I think he did not like the irregularity of our births. But our father, being as he was, how could it have been otherwise?

I thank you for your warm invitation. It has made me so happy. One day we shall meet again ...

I wrote back to say how delighted I was that she had found happiness with Joseph.

I could see her as the mistress of some stately home with an elderly husband who adored her.

The summer days flew past, and I was too young and inexperienced not to believe that they would go on like that forever.

I could not have had a better companion than Lance. He was completely at home in London-far more so, I was to realize, than he could ever be in the country. He loved the coffeehouse talk, and we would go out, dressed more simply than usual so that we could mingle more easily. The Calf s Head, the Apollo, the October, the Mughouse-I was taken to them all. We would sit listening to the talk, which was clever and even witty, and Lance often joined in.

"The coffeehouse is one of the best things that has happened to London," he declared.

After the theater we would have supper in one of the restaurants which were springing up all over the town. We went to Pontac's or Locket's, which were two of the most exclusive, but sometimes we went to the less elegant ones-just for the adventure of it, Lance said. There were, for instance, the Salutation, in Newgate Street, and the Mitre, in Fleet Street.

The days and nights were filled with new experiences and I felt that marriage was a wonderful experience. I could now respond to Lance's passion, which delighted him.

I was no longer the shrinking and reluctant maiden, and although I could not be said to be worldly, I was growing into a full-blooded woman.

Though the streets could be dangerous at night and pickpockets-and worse-lurked in the shadows, I always felt safe with Lance. His carriage, with its stalwart driver and footman, would always be waiting for us.

"They have, thank God, got rid of the Mohocks," Lance commented. "A scandalous club, that was ... dedicated to making mischief. No one was safe from them. They'd run a sword through a sedan, and they once rolled women down Snowhill in hogsheads. It is a few years since they were disbanded, but memories of them linger on. Although the streets are still a danger, they are better for the removal of those men.”

We were entertained a great deal. Lance had many friends in fashionable London. I visited gracious houses with him and we gave dinner parties. There was no anxiety for me, for arrangements were taken care of by an adequate staff; my own concern was that I should be a credit to Lance.

I was welcomed into society. I was known as a member of the Eversleigh family and Lance was a favorite everywhere. We did not go to court, though Lance supposed we should have to at some time.

"It's incredibly dull now," he said. "Those Germanic customs are not appreciated here. The King is dull and heavy, and there is no Queen ... only those grasping mistresses, who, I believe, are making fortunes for themselves out of selling favors.

George is criticized for putting his poor wife, Sophia Dorothea, away-they say she is more or less a prisoner-and all because he suspected her of being unfaithful with Konigsmarck. And if she were, she was only following in the footsteps of her husband.”

The London life absorbed me. I was a little disappointed when Lance said it would be necessary for us to go to his estates in the country for a little while.

Clavering Hall had been the house of the family for two hundred years, and I was back again in the kind of house I knew so well from Eversleigh and Enderby. After the airy comfort of the modern house in Albemarle Street I found the Hall a little oppressive. Like all such houses, it seemed to carry with it an aura of the past, as though those who had lived there before lingered on m spirit, endowing the place with their joys and sorrows-mostly sorrows.

Any house in which Lance lived could not be gloomy. There were elegant touches in curtains, carpets and such articles; but the court cupboards, the four-poster beds, and large refectory tables were relics of a bygone age.

The hall, of course, was the center of the house, with the east and west wings on either side, and there were two fine staircases, with handrails framed into the newels.

The woodwork was exquisite, the doors intricately carved and the fireplaces, which were very fine indeed, were carved with scenes from the Bible. There were rich tapestries on the walls in beautifully blended colors. It was a gracious, lovely house and Lance was proud of it.