London Belle Part III

The two girls walked in silence along the path, not even looking at the flowerbeds.  Sophie was not interested in gardens... and Mary was now feeling depressed. She was looking at the paving stones beneath her feet, barely noticing the grass verges, when a loud voice hailed her and made her jump.

“Miss Crawford, my dear... Over here, my dear…”

Sophie looked up, also startled.

“It is that very odd looking old woman, the one that hailed you in one of the shops in Bond Street-”

Mary caught at her arm. “Sophie, pray, be polite to her-“

She was forced to break off, as the carriage pulled up beside them.  Mrs Robson was leaning over the edge of the barouche, almost tipping it because of her vast weight, reached out her hand in greeting.  She was, as she often was, accompanied by her nephew, Mr Richard Maynard. 

“How d’ye do, my dear?” she asked in her penetrating voice.  “I hope I see you well.”

Mary made a slight curtsey and tried to extract her hand from Mrs Robson’s firm grasp.  She was about 50, with richly chestnut hair, which she must have dyed, for it did not show a single grey thread.  She was large, both in terms of being very fat, and having large hands and feet.  Her face was weather-beaten.  It resembled the complexions of hard-riding hunting ladies or the wives of nabobs who had made fortunes in India.
“I am well, thank you, Ma’am.  I hope you are too.  I think you know Miss Lawrence?”

She turned to Sophie, and introduced her to Richard Maynard.

The tall fair haired young man beside Mrs Robson bowed stiffly.  He mumbled something.  Then he leaned back in his seat, as if bored, and waited for his aunt to finish her talking.  Mary was rather startled when she caught a wink from his eye.  The older lady was rather garrulous.  But she had met Richard Maynard before, and she had never seen him act like this.  He usually showed polite respect to his aunt.

Mary had known Mrs Robson for some years, because she had at one time been a neighbour of her Aunt Crawford, the Admiral’s late wife. 

Mrs Crawford had shown the lady some kindly attentions, in spite of her mercantile origins.  Mrs Robson’s own large fortune had made her relatively acceptable to Society. Her brother, Mr Josiah Maynard, Richard’s father, was a widower.  He had made his way from modest middle class beginnings to having several large businesses and he was a figure of considerable importance in the City.  

Normally Mary might have had no more than a slight social acquaintance with someone from Trade, like Mrs Robson.  But the good lady had always been fond of Aunt Charlotte Crawford.  Mary had scarcely known her own mother; so she had regarded her aunt as a mother.  So for Aunt Crawford’s sake, she had chosen to be friendly with Mrs Robson.

This had meant that she was sometimes thrown into company with Richard Maynard, and she had done her best to be pleasant to him.   He had had a genteel education, had been to Eton and then Oxford, and while he was involved in learning how to run his father’s businesses, he was clearly also being groomed to marry into the Ton.
“So I hope you’ll come to see her, my dear,”

Mary had lost the thread of the conversation, and looked wildly at Sophie for guidance. To her surprise, Richard then put in
“Ah yes, Aunt Alice, Miss Crawford has often said to me that she would like to meet my cousin Jane….  “

He leaned over towards Mary.  “Miss Crawford is very fond of children.  Is it not so?”

Mary breathed with relief, now able to follow what was being said.  She managed to say, “Ah, yes. Your little granddaughter, Ma’am.  How old is she now?”

Thankfully, she remembered that Mrs Robson’s daughter had children, and they were of course the apples of the good lady’s eye.  One of them must be staying with her.  She now lived in Wimpole Street, and seemed to enjoy equally socialising with old friends from the City, and more tonnish people whom she had met, over the years.

Old Josiah, the father - had not tried to make his way into society at all.  He was content to mingle with a few City friends and to busy himself with his work.  He was leaving it to his son to climb further up the social ladder.

Mr Maynard gently touched his aunt’s arm and said “Ma’am, we must be getting back, as Father is calling on us, you remember.”

Mrs Robson had just been starting to talk again about her grandchildren, but she now laughed loudly.
“You see how he bullies me, Miss Crawford.  I shall have to go now, m’dear.  I beg you will call on us, soon.  Come and see my little Janey….”

Mary put out her hand.  “I shall.  Perhaps we shall see you at Lady Middleton’s ball?”

“Oh I had forgot.  We shall be there indeed. I look forward to seeing you dancing, so light you are on your feet...  I was never so graceful, my dear.”

“I hope that you will save a dance for me, Miss Crawford,” Richard said, suddenly, again surprising Mary.  He did dance occasionally, but he was a stiff performer and did not seem to enjoy it much.