Lady Fortescue Steps Out

By M. C. Beaton

An impoverished widow opens a hotel serving the society she has fallen from in this regency romance featuring characters who “leap off the pages” (Publishers Weekly).
 
After her husband’s death, Lady Fortescue knows she must work, even though the thought will appal her society relatives. So she decides to transform her once-grand Bond Street home into a hotel, the Poor Relation, offering society guests the pleasure of being waited upon by nobility.
 
With the help of other down-and-out aristocrats, London’s newest, most fashionable hotel is born. And it is the perfect venue for Lady Fortescue to play with the love lives of her guests and staff, starting with her nephew, the dashing Duke of Rowcester. Lady Fortescue has it on good authority that the duke once shared a dance with darling Harriet James, the hotel cook. When the duke comes to London, Lady Fortescue orchestrates a reunion that is sure to scandalize the ton . . .
 
New York Times bestseller M.C. Beaton, the pen name for regency author Marian Chesney, “expertly sets the scene, recapturing the bawdiness and color of a long-ago time. . . . Hilarious and tragic; larceny, attempted murder, a satisfactory love affair and unlikely alliances make the hotel the liveliest spot in London” (Publishers Weekly).
 
“A charming and humorous Regency.” —Library Journal
 
“A solid cast of eccentrics.” —Booklist

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Jan 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9780795315282

M. C. Beaton

M. C. Beaton (1936-2019), the “Queen of Crime” (The Globe and Mail), was the author of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling Agatha Raisin novels -- the basis for the hit series on Acorn TV and public television -- as well as the Hamish Macbeth series and the Edwardian Murder Mysteries featuring Lady Rose Summer. Born in Scotland, she started her career writing historical romances under several pseudonyms and her maiden name, Marion Chesney. In 2006, M.C. was the British guest of honor at Bouchercon.

Book preview

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Title Page

Lady Fortescue Steps Out

by M.C. Beaton

Copyright Page

Copyright ©1992 by Marion Chesney

Cover art to the electronic edition copyright © 2010 by RosettaBooks, LLC

ISBN (EPUB): 9780795315282

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

First electronic edition published 2011 by RosettaBooks

www.RosettaBooks.com

Dedication

For Ann Robinson and her daughter,

Emma Wilson, with love.

Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter One

It is a melancholy truth that even great men have their poor relations.

—CHARLES DICKENS

In the Regency, in an age when gambling had reached ridiculous heights and the aristocracy spent and wasted money as never before, there were many poor in London, miserable, half-starved, ragged creatures.

But there were also the members of the invisible poor, the victims of genteel poverty who, with many subterfuges and stratagems, hid their condition from the eyes of polite society.

The poor relations of aristocrats who lived in London led a lonely and dreary existence, living on the charity of their noble relatives; or on some meagre allowance from a family trust. Once a year, they were taken out and dusted down and conveyed to some stately home where they made themselves as inconspicuous as possible, hoping to be ignored, hoping that regular meals and fires would last as long as possible. But the day would always come when they were packed up and delivered back to London and a life of genteel cold and hunger. What kept them from helping each other, what kept them apart, was pride.

A small section of this miserable horde would have joined its fellows in dying, lonely and forgotten, had it not been for one momentous May day in Hyde Park when old Lady Fortescue met Colonel Sandhurst.

***

Lady Fortescue lived in a tall house in Bond Street. The house was nearly all she had left and she stubbornly held onto it. She had just reached her seventieth year, a great age in the days of the Regency, when very few managed to achieve the biblical figure of three score years and ten.

She had just returned from a humiliating visit to her nephew, the Duke of Rowcester. Two heavy silver candlesticks belonging to the duke had been found in her trunk. In vain had she pleaded her innocence, in vain had she protested loudly and with many oaths that she did not know how they had come to be among her effects—she was asked to leave.

The fact that she had actually stolen them did not ease her pain. It was the first time she had stooped to crime. The candlesticks had been standing on a table in a little-used side room. She had been so sure that nobody would miss them. And so she had taken them, thinking gleefully of all the meals the silver sticks would bring her when she returned to London and sold them. But their disappearance had been noticed immediately. While everyone was accusing everyone else, for the great mansion was full of guests, the duke had quietly dispatched a posse of servants to search the rooms. He had not made her humiliation public. He had simply taken her aside and told her the candlesticks had been found and that his carriage would be ready to convey her back to London in two hours’ time. He had listened to her protestations of innocence for a time and then had cut them short by saying wearily, Theft is a bad-enough crime. Do not make it worse by lying. And that was that.

Lady Fortescue was a tall woman with white hair and snapping black eyes. Her skin was dead white and her mouth thin and always rouged a bright scarlet. Although her husband had been dead for twenty years, she had never put off her mourning weeds. She had two servants—Betty, who was fifty-nine, and John, who was sixty. She could not remember when she had last been able to pay them a wage. But they stayed with her, for there was nowhere else for them to go.

Her humiliation had taken place in February and since then she had hidden in her house, too ashamed to go out, frightened that the criminal she had become would be evident for all to see. But one beautiful May day, she became weary of the dark house and of herself and her shame and decided to go and take the air in Hyde Park. When she got there, she sat down on a bench in the sun, a grim black figure, back ramrod-straight, one hand leaning on the ivory handle of her parasol.

She looked thoughtfully at that parasol. The ivory handle was mounted in silver. As she looked at it, it became transformed in her mind’s eye into a pile of savoury meat pies. How odd, she thought, giving herself a mental shake, that all the little knick-knacks of a lady’s wardrobe, once taken for granted, should now be considered as so many pawnable items to get money for food and coals. Unlike most elderly people, she craved food rather than warmth, for she had always enjoyed a hearty appetite.

The sunlight seemed to intensify her loneliness. She sat there for a long time. The fashionable hour came and went, with its glitter and carriages and horses. Still she sat as the Park became silent again and long shadows from the trees crept over the grass like so many dark fingers of doom pointing the way to the grave.

An elderly man was approaching the bench on which she was seated, striding out down the walk. She had seen him before. Like herself, he was tall and white-haired. His clothes were worn and his boots were in need of repair and he was surely as old as she, but he carried himself with an air, an old-fashioned hat called a wideawake tilted rakishly to one side on top of his carefully curled and pomaded hair.

He was almost abreast of her when he suddenly put his hand to his brow and then collapsed at her feet in a dead faint.

Lady Fortescue looked around for help but there was no one to be seen. She knelt down beside the fallen gentleman and, taking her smelling-salts out of her reticule, held them under his nose. His eyes fluttered open. They were very blue, childlike eyes to be set in such an old face.

My apologies, ma’am, he said faintly. Must be on m’way to my club.

Lady Fortescue’s sharp eyes took in the details of genteel poverty, from well-pressed but worn clothes and split gloves to cracked boots, and said, to her own surprise, Sit down with me for a little, sir.

She helped him to the bench. He again apologized, saying lightly that illness was one of the problems of old age.

Lady Fortescue would, before her disastrous visit to her nephew, have accepted this polite fiction and the gentleman would have got to his feet and gone on his way, and that would have been that.

But her own humiliation was still fresh in her mind and suddenly she found herself rebelling against all the shifts and scrapes to maintain appearances and said bluntly, You need food.

He looked at her, appalled at the enormity of what she had said. My dear lady, he remarked, his voice still light and pleasant, I am amazed at you. How can you say such a thing? But let me present myself. I am Colonel Sandhurst, late of the 147th.

She bent her head, a stately acknowledgement of the introduction, and said with an edge in her voice, Oh, go on your way, then, sirrah. But have you ever thought that here we sit, both of us genteelly poor and wasting a lot of time trying to hide the fact? And there are others like us who come here, for the recognizable and unfashionable poor are not allowed in Hyde Park, and because no one is going to charge us for breathing the air or looking at the trees. No, stay a moment! For he had started to rise. I am Lady Fortescue. I have decided to tell you what happened to me recently and then, if you like, you can walk away.

The colonel listened gravely, and as she told him of the theft of the candlesticks a thin mist began to veil the trees and a curious squirrel stopped at their feet to stare up at them with bright, inquisitive eyes.

After she had finished, he sat in silence for a long time and then he slowly removed his hat and held it to his breast as if about to mourn the passing of genteel pretensions.

Lady Fortescue, he said, "I am very hungry."

Yes, I thought you might be, she said brusquely, Come home with me. My Betty has a mutton pie and some broth.

When Lady Fortescue eventually stopped outside her home in Bond Street, the colonel looked up at the tall building curiously, imagining she rented one of the rooms. She led the way into a fine hallway, although it was devoid of furniture, and said, Leave your hat on the knob on the banisters. I hope you do not mind. We will eat in the kitchen with my servants. The few coals I am able to afford are for the kitchen fire and it is silly to sit in the cold of the dining-room. Although the weather has turned warm, it has not yet permeated into the house.

Surprised that she obviously owned the whole house, the colonel followed her down a narrow flight of stairs to the kitchen. The servant, Betty, was a thin, bent, swarthy woman, like a gypsy. She dropped a curtsy and concealed her obvious surprise when her mistress announced, We have a guest for dinner.

I’ll just lay two places in the dining-room, my lady, said Betty.

No need for that. The kitchen is warm. We will eat here. Set two places at this end of the table and you and John may eat at the other. Where is John?

He went out to look for some firewood, my lady. A building fell down in Holborn, so he heard, and he went off to see if he could take some of the house timber.

I hope he is not caught, said Lady Fortescue equably. Pray be seated, Colonel. I am afraid we can only offer you beer—wine, tea and coffee being much too expensive.

The kitchen door opened and a thickset man came in with a sack on his back. Got some wood, my lady, he said gruffly, and would have got more had the watch not come along. Then he saw the colonel and looked startled.

You need not stand on ceremony with Colonel Sandhurst, John, said Lady Fortescue. But as we have an unaccustomed guest, I suggest you build up the kitchen fire for this night.

Soon the colonel was drinking a bowl of broth while a bright fire crackled up the kitchen chimney. Betty and John, as instructed, sat at the far end of the table and talked in low voices to each other, and so, emboldened by hot broth and strong beer, the colonel began to tell his story. All he had was his army pension. His next payment was not due for another month. But he had been so sure that his rich cousin John would invite him on a visit that he had spent what he had left. The invitation had not come as it had always done in the past, and so he had no money left to buy anything.

Betty rose and took away his empty bowl and then produced a steaming mutton pie from the oven. The colonel thought almost tearfully that nothing in his life ever before had tasted so marvellous as that pie with floury potatoes and a generous helping of pease-pudding.

Eat slowly, now, cautioned Lady Fortescue. She was beginning to enjoy herself. She had been so very lonely. Such a long time ago, when she had been able to keep a full staff of servants, Betty had been a housemaid and John a footman. When she had fallen on hard times, they said they would stay on provided she gave them permission to marry. That permission seemed to bind them to her in loyalty. But they were devoted to each other and often made Lady Fortescue feel like an intruder in her own house.

Forgive me for saying so, Lady Fortescue, ventured the colonel, but would not your circumstances be easier if you sold this place?

It is all I have to remind me of my late husband, said Lady Fortescue. I shall leave in my coffin.

The evening wore on. The colonel seemed rejuvenated by warmth and company. He talked of books he had read and plays he had seen, he laughed over all the pathetic shifts he had made to keep up appearances, and while he talked, Lady Fortescue began to get the glimmerings of a great idea.

When he at last fell silent, she said slowly, You have a small allowance from the army and I have a small allowance from a family trust. There is a great deal of space in this house and you have said that at present you are paying for your lodgings. Why not move in here with me?

My dear lady!

Why not? demanded Lady

Reviews for Lady Fortescue Steps Out

[limelite_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Gentle Readers, this is not a genteel Edwardian read. Lady Fortescue is single-minded, opinionated, and forceful. She's also churchmouse poor and needs a means of financial sustenance. Being observant, she notices a gentleman in Hyde Park who appears to be a fellow member of London's high society poor. When Colonel Sandhurst faints at her feet from hunger, Lady Fortescue invites him to take a room in her capacious townhouse, which he does.Soon the two of them hatch a clever plan to open a hotel where society's formerly wealthy ton will wait on their better heeled peers, and with the edition of a few more more (and one less) honest associates, thus is born the Poor Relations Hotel. Trouble ensues when snobby rich relations learn what's going on and descend on the hotel to put the embarrassing members of trade out of business.Naturally, complications and ironic twists ensue that provide readers with chuckles and the pleasure of a simply diverting book ideal for bedtime reading.

[thebookbabe · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Chesney exposes the under-side of the glitter and glitz of the Regency era. It took me a while to finally "get" her but now that I understand what she's up to I respect her writing very much. Looking forward to reading the rest of this series.

[krisiti · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A story of love, regency and genteel but still starvation-bound poverty. The cover billed it as charming and merry, but I didn't find it very merry, and only occasionally charming. Would have liked it more if I had disliked Sir Philip less.

[phyllis2779 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Well-done for an older (way older) traditional regency. The author likes to sprinkle in facts about the England of the period and the divide between the wealthy and the poor, even the titled poor. The romance really was an ornament on the bigger story rather than the focus of the book. Other then being a Duke, the hero was not particularly fleshed out. But he was wealthy, high-born and falls in love with the heroine whom he has met very few times so in traditional Regency terms, a figure of Romance.

[leslie398 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

OK Regency romance but nowhere near as good as Georgette Heyer. I like the idea of the Poor Relations Hotel but there were some things I think were anachronisms (although I am unsure exactly when this is supposed to be set) and others that struck me as plain wrong. Despite these flaws, this was a quick and fun read & I will probably try another in this series.Here are a few things that bothered me:·"She had just reached her seventieth year, a great age in the days of the Regency, when very few managed to achieve the biblical figure of three score years and ten." --- Not so!!! The life expectancy was low (~40 years) but a large part of that was the huge infant mortality (40% or higher); for people who reach adulthood (even in the lower classes), the typical length of life was over 70 years. ·Lord Darkwood's loud and repeated insistence that a lady of quality waiting on tables was worse than being a member of the demi-monde. This might be true in fact but was scarcely the sort of sentiment a gentleman of this time period would voice to his wife.·"He threw down his napkin -- a newfangled sophistry which puzzled some of the diners..." -- enough said!·a few minor formatting problems.

[dieseltaylor_1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Insubstantail with lightweight stereotypical characters it is hard to justify recommending it. Some nice plot devices but one wishes the writer was capable of fully developing the stories.

[khakimoose-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Quick, cute, somewhat predictable...

Cute read. Rather predictable, but still enjoyable. Light, and not deep, but overall enjoyable for a Sunday afternoon. Will probably read the series now.

[wyvernfriend · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

It was a sad fact that gentile poverty existed, and that there were poor relations of many wealthy households, some of whom were leeches on the family and travelled from family to family picking up goods, some valuable for sale and some just for survival; and eking a living as well as they could, trying to keep up appearances but often failing.This is about a group of these people who band together in Lady Fortescue's decrepit Bond Street home into a fashionable hotel called the Poor Relation; and are quite surprised when it's very successful. And there's a romance.It isn't bad but there are so many points of view I really didn't feel like I got to know the characters and I'm hoping that will improve, but some of the commentary ventured into snide rather than humorous pokes.

[Lara Wijesuriya · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A very nice book. Just the sort of thing I wanted to read about Regency London. Outrageous plot but nor unbelievably so.

[etxgardener · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Poor Lady Fortecue is at the end of her tether. She's sold just about everything she can sell and has been thrown out by her nephew the Duke who has caught her trying to steal silver candlesticks from his country estate.. When she runs into down at his heels Col. Snadhurat, they decide to poll their meager resources and turn Lady Fortescue's Bond Street townhouse into The Poor Relations Hotel And along with some other impoverished aristocrats, they do just that.The Hotel is an immediate success with everyone except for Lady Fortescue's nephew, the Duke of Rowcester, who feels that she has besmirched the family name by engaging in trade. He vows to shut the enterprise down - that is until he sees Harriet James, who he once loved from afar during her debutante season.The result is a fun romp through Regency London with, of course, the requisite happy ending.

[tkcs-3 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This is a pleasant book about some poor members of the English nobility who band together to start a hotel in the early 1800s. I will read more in the series when I want a cozy light read.

[maryzee_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Not Jane Austen but a fun, quick read

[kmartin802_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This Regency romance stars some unlikely heroes and heroines. It is all about a group of poor relations who get together to open a fashionable hotel in London.Lady Fortescue is a widow fallen on hard times despite being related to the wealthy Dule of Rowcester. She gets so desperate for food and heat that she steals a couple of candlesticks on one of her visits. Found out and kicked out, she doesn't know what to do.While spending time in a park, she comes across an elderly Colonel who faints at her feet. He's used up his allowance and has no funds when an expected invitation to a relative doesn't appear. They decide to band together in Lady Fortescue's large but nearly empty house. They also decide to look for some other poor relations to become part of their household.They invite a widow with bill collectors at her door after her husband's death left her deeply in debt. And also bring home Miss Tonks who is given a very inadequate allowance by her wealthy sister. And Miss Harriet James who is living in a rented room after the death of her parents. Their final invitation goes to Sir Philip who is something of a shady character. He's used to dropping in on the most distant of relatives and helping himself to small, expensive baubles and the contents of pantries when his visit is over. While they are all better off by pooling their resources and they aren't lonely anymore with so many others of like degree, they need to do something else to secure their futures. The Colonel suggests that they open a hotel for members of the ton who don't want the expense of hiring lodgings while attending the events of the Season. But they need a stake to help them fund the conversion of the mansion into a hotel. Sir Philip has a very tenuous connection to the Duke of Rowcester and steals small stuff on his first visit while casing the joint for something larger that he can steal to fund the renovations. He goes to one of his illicit connections and has a paste necklace made to replace one that belongs to the Duke. He doesn't mention where he got the funds, and the renovations go on. Once the Duke learns that the hotel is open, he rushes to London to convince his aunt that it is demeaning to be seen to be in trade. He doesn't expect to learn that the new cook is the same Miss Harriet James he once danced with at a ball and fell in love with. Their romance hits all sorts of snags from jealous lovers to popular opinion and Harriet's past as a cook and waitress. It doesn't help that his first proposal to Miss James is that she become his mistress!I liked this romance because it doesn't sugar coat actual conditions in Regency England. It includes such things as hangings as social events and the grinding poverty amid all the splendors. The narrator did a nice job making each voice distinct.