by Liz Tyner
‘No,’ Vivian grumbled. ‘This is a ladies’ outing. To return that book and then search for one for Mother. And a detour to select fripperies. Ribbons. Reticules. Pelisses. Perfumes. Scented soaps. Things I like.’
He let out his breath slowly. ‘I am sure that this is a ladies’ trip and I’m certain you’re searching for something. Am I disrupting your plans?’
‘We are also going to discuss The Book of Martyrs.’ Vivian nodded to Mavis and the companion raised the volume again.
‘Read every word of the first chapter.’ Pride coated Mavis’s words. ‘Near killed me. They need to add a section about the many companions who have left this earth in dedicated service to the family.’
Lord Darius reached out, taking the book, thumbing through it, before sitting it casually in his lap, and, reaching up with a free hand, thumped the top of the carriage to alert the driver to begin. ‘I’ll see that your name gets added in the next edition.’
The wheels rolled with a forceful creak. ‘Odd,’ he mused, gazing again at the book, and flipping briefly through the pages. ‘Watson said he’d been requested to take my daughter to a certain town house before you went to Piccadilly.’ He squinted. ‘If memory serves me right, I believe I might know who resides there.’
‘My dear friend Mrs Rush lives there,’ Mavis inserted.
‘Is that all?’ The last word lingered on her father’s lips, accusing.
‘And we are to return the book to Everleigh,’ Mavis continued.
Vivian speared Mavis with a look.
Mavis raised both hands, palms out. ‘I’m no martyr.’
Vivian spun towards her father.
He patted his pocket. ‘I pay wages. With everyone but Mavis that does earn some loyalty. They may not volunteer information easily, but will answer when asked directly. I discovered that, when your mother and I visited her sister, the two of you disappeared one afternoon.’ He glared at Mavis. ‘You are sacked.’
Vivian’s spirits plummeted. She could not be the cause of Mavis losing employment.
‘Father, you can’t toss her out. She went to protect me. I had heard of a medicinal and I went in search of it.’ She moved forward. ‘My complexion. It’s improved. I’m not trembling now. I’m recovered.’
‘What was in the concoction you took?’
‘I don’t know, but it tastes like honey. I just know I was dying and I started taking that cure instead of the others and I started saying I was well so I wouldn’t have to see the physicians.’ Vivian pleaded for him to understand. ‘I improved. Each day.’
She stared at her father. ‘You know how ill I was. I wanted to live. I would have tried anything to keep alive. The physician had said he could do no more and I didn’t want him to say it again. Just seeing him at the house made me feel worse.’
‘If you are better because of the search, then I can forgive it, certainly,’ he said. ‘I can forgive the trip, only. So, what is this excursion about?’
Vivian didn’t speak, avoiding her father’s question.
‘Well, since I am sacked,’ Mavis said, ‘I will admit that I have been reading a book from Lord Everleigh’s library. That block of a book...’ she wiggled in her seat ‘...that could break a toe if you dropped it on your foot. It’s full of hideous tales worthy of nightmares and I hated it. I wanted it out of the house as soon as I could get it out.’
‘How did you get a volume from his library?’ her father’s voice threatened.
‘Well, it all started when I became friends with his housekeeper, Mrs Rush. Now, she knows how to keep a tidy residence.’ Mavis chattered faster. ‘Dear friend, Mrs Rush. Helped me when I had a bump on my nose. You remember that bump... From a door. I didn’t see it until it was too late.’
‘The housekeeper? I remember you telling me Mavis and the housekeeper are friends.’ Her father eased into the squabs. ‘Is that true?’ he asked Vivian.
‘Yes.’
Vivian soothed Mavis. ‘Since my dear companion is so devoted to me, she was studying the volume for me.’
‘I am. That I am. Trust me, you wouldn’t want her delving into it.’
Her father stared at the carriage roof, teeth clamped.
‘We had to obtain the medicinal,’ Vivian insisted. ‘Everleigh’s housekeeper told us where we might discover it.’
‘And, you received this book of barbarous acts?’ The words reverberated inside the walls of the carriage, hurting Vivian’s ears.
‘Yes.’
‘Vivian, he is wrong for you and he is not interested in courting you. A suitor gives a treacly book of poetry. A suitor pretends fascination in your stitchery and fripperies. Not this.’ He slapped a palm on to the cover. ‘This is a volume a man would give a female he wishes to discourage.’
‘Then we really must return it, as I am offended.’ Vivian shuddered. ‘I am fortunate to discover this now.’
‘Good heavens. You are your mother’s daughter.’
‘Yes. I am fortunate to have you both.’
Her father observed her, silent at last.
When the carriage wheels stopped, the voice of the groom filtered through the vehicle while he murmured to the horses as if they were favoured children. The springs squeaked and the carriage wobbled as the driver stepped from his perch to open the door.
No one spoke until Mavis said, ‘I believe I’ll remain in the carriage. Surely the both of you can return those sweet tales without my help.’ She peered at Lord Darius. ‘Your presence will add respectability and I can ruminate about my next employment.’
‘You’re so right,’ Lord Darius snapped when he stepped out of the carriage.
Vivian followed, examining Everleigh’s town house. She’d not noticed the austere stones on the façade earlier, being too overcome by Mavis’s accident.
Lord Darius gave her a prod. ‘Move along. Don’t gawk at the windows. You’ve seen houses like this before. All along the streets.’
He gave her the volume. ‘You get the privilege of returning these fascinating tales.’
She walked up the steps, gripping the book, and the door opened. She remembered the butler, Waincott, from the day Mavis had had the accident. She didn’t see any recognition from him, but that was probably his training. He smelled, appropriately, of starch.
‘We’re here to see Lord Everleigh,’ her father said, reaching into his waistcoat pocket and producing his card.
Then, Darius followed as the butler showed them into a drawing room.
When the servant left, Darius muttered, lips hardly moving, ‘You are making such an error having any fascination with someone who’d lend you those narratives.’
Chapter Eight
Everleigh glanced again at the card, then pushed his chair back from the breakfast table and stood, stopping to take a last drink of chocolate. Vivian’s father.
Probably come to give Everleigh the coin back and he likely had heard of the visit, or wanted to warn Everleigh away from Vivian.
Vivian.
The kiss had been memorable. Not just for her. Pride flourished in him. Darius could grouse all he wanted. She’d relished it and her father could not be aware of it because only two people were there. Vivian wasn’t the type to discuss something so private.
Vivian had merely passed by his father’s house on the way to get her curative, and Darius might be dismayed over that, but it was too late to do anything about it.
Besides, Vivian was better.
Anyone would give respite to an ill person. Darius could not make much of a fuss because it would hurt Vivian’s reputation.
‘Who is it?’ the Earl asked, fork poised over his plate of kippers.
‘Lord Darius,’ Everleigh answered. Those were the first words they’d spoken to each other during the entire meal and almost the first time they’d conversed since his father had followed h
im to London.
He’d claimed curiosity at how Everleigh would handle two women vying for his attentions.
Everleigh had ignored the barb.
He’d expected his father to gamble every night, but he hadn’t. Everleigh had checked the betting books and had paid attention to his father’s excursions. The man spent more time in coffee houses than he did gaming.
When Everleigh reached the formal drawing room, Vivian was perched on the edge of the sofa, clenching the martyr book. Lord Darius appeared enthralled by his boot tops.
Ah, he realised. Her father had discovered the volume and enquired about it. She’d told him the truth.
Darius gave him a brisk bow, but his scrutiny completely erased any politeness in the greeting.
Vivian stood, gave a small curtsy and held out the tome. ‘Thank you for lending this. Very informative.’ Her smile wavered at the edge. ‘I know you said I could have it, but I thought it best to return it.’
He reclaimed the book. ‘Can I offer you both tea?’ Everleigh asked, blinking away the glare Darius was sending his way.
‘So very kind, but, no,’ Darius said. He reached to tug his daughter’s hand and bring her to his side. ‘My daughter... Could hardly get her to stop talking about all those martyrs. But we must be on our way to see about the purchase of some flintlocks.’ He tucked Vivian’s hand snug on his arm, took a step to the door, then paused. ‘And, I was wondering, when did you lend the book to her?’
‘Some time ago.’
‘I believe,’ a gravelled voice answered from the doorway, ‘it could have been the night Miss Vivian took ill and was forced to spend the night at my country estate.’
Everleigh remained still. Darius rotated to view Rothwilde.
‘It was incredibly...’ the word ‘incredibly’ had never been so long ‘...kind of you to rescue my daughter.’ Darius spoke softly, first acknowledging the older man, then fixing a stare on the son.
‘Yes. Very. We’ve lots of shopping to do.’ Vivian took a step forward, but her father didn’t move.
‘Father. Flintlocks and reticules. Remember?’ She grasped his wrist. ‘Mavis is waiting in the carriage. We mustn’t let her catch a chill.’
‘I’m pleased to see Miss Vivian doing so much better,’ the older man continued. ‘My son was genuinely concerned about her. Such a lovely young thing—and so ill that day.’
‘I’m so much better,’ Vivian agreed, bobbing on her heels.
‘I hope you didn’t visit the vagabond.’ Everleigh’s father gave a mournful groan. ‘She’s a trickster. She would gammon you for nothing more than a handkerchief. More poacher than anything else.’
Darius’s head jerked to his daughter.
She patted her father’s arm several times. ‘I did visit someone with medicinals. Please thank her for me if you see her again.’
One side of Everleigh’s mouth moved up. ‘Trust me, she takes gratitude easily from the estate and considers it her due.’
‘Let us leave.’ She tried to placate her father. ‘We’ve imposed on the Earl. Mother will expect us back soon.’
This time Darius gave a harsh nod to Everleigh and the Earl. ‘Many thanks for your hospitality to my dear daughter, who’s been ill for some time. I have taken to going about with her as she is...recovering. I can only hope the past few years have not affected her good sense.’
When Darius escorted Vivian to the door, Everleigh’s father stepped with her, quickly grasping her glove. He brought it to his lips, brushing a kiss above it. ‘You and your family are welcome to visit any time, Miss Vivian. It does my son good to leave his ledgers and have someone so lovely to speak with.’
‘Thank you,’ she mumbled and Darius pulled her away.
* * *
Vivian got into the carriage, chin high, stomach the other direction.
Darius moved into the vehicle as if he expected the wood to move aside for him. She didn’t think it would dare not to.
Mavis watched, but didn’t speak.
Darius directed his words at Mavis. ‘Last night I warned the man to stay away from Vivian when I should have had the good grace to offer him a guard for his door to keep her away from him.’
Vivian muttered, ‘I am unmarried. I am chaperoned. I am of age. I have had only one short kiss from a man in the whole of my life, and I do not see any problems with my actions. Do you, Mavis?’
Mavis shook her head, then viewed Lord Darius and nodded.
Darius repeated the statement. ‘She is unmarried, of age, barely kissed and has now taken on an obvious pursuit of a man who has questionable tastes in women,’ he complained to Mavis. ‘A man should court her, as I explained. It should not be a one-sided pursuit.’
‘Well,’ Mavis said, ‘I can see—’
‘You are sacked again, Mavis. This time it’s permanent.’
‘You do have a point, Lord Darius.’
‘Everleigh did attend the party last night.’ Vivian straightened her back.
Her father raised his forearm, one finger pointing sideways. He seemed unable to continue without his voice becoming loud. He stopped to compose himself and lowered his voice to a hiss. ‘You will not leave the house again without a trusted servant. Or me. Or your mother.’
‘Father. You cannot do such a thing.’
Mavis ducked her head. ‘If I must hope to find work elsewhere...’ she examined her fingernails ‘...I will only tell the truth. That I was with Miss Vivian when we were in search of a curative and she was ill, and we spent the night at the Earl’s extremely well-staffed house instead of venturing into the cold night. We didn’t want to risk our lives on country roads at night, which was, of course, wrong of us, and I was the, oh, so-vigilant chaperon. It was almost a house party, as another female guest arrived to speak with Lord Everleigh. After our return, I was sacked for not telling her father, as is the proper response.’
Darius calmed. ‘You’re not sacked, Mavis. Instead, I’m promoting you to take care of the chamber pots. They all need cleaning, by the way. And polishing.’
He leaned towards his daughter’s companion. ‘Why, Mavis? Why could she not just attend a soirée like the other ladies and flutter a fan?’
Mavis shrugged, then opened her mouth to speak. ‘Chamber pots?’
He waved the words away.
‘Fans?’ Vivian stared. ‘I find them belittling and hideous.’
Her father coughed his derision. ‘No. You merely go to a house to return a book that apparently was given to you. Can you not take a telltale sign as an indication?’
‘This began when I was seeking a—’ Vivian interrupted, peering sideways at her father. ‘I was hoping to be cured of my illness by a woman who lives on the Earl’s estate. Mavis knew it and went with me for protection. The trip was arduous. You cannot think an earl would let anyone corrupt stay on his estate.’
‘Please, Mavis, tell me she did not get some elixir from some poacher. Her mother’s physician has been with the family for years.’
‘It saved my life,’ Vivian insisted.
His voice softened. ‘That explains it. You have been given some poison which has altered your mind.’
Vivian raised one hand and waved it in assent. ‘There you have it.’
‘Don’t worry. I will get with the physician. We will find some way to clear that up. He will treat you as long as he needs.’
Vivian heard the doors clanging shut on her freedom. Her throat constricted.
‘Sounds like a good idea to me,’ Mavis murmured. ‘I’ll make sure she takes all her treatment.’
‘We let your ill health destroy you.’ Her father drooped.
‘Well, Everleigh seemed much more irritated at you when I returned the book than at me,’ she said.
‘Your mother will be embarrassed to think of you straying so far from the way you we
re raised. You’ll likely end up a spinster...chasing after a man not interested in you.’
‘That’s fine. I’ve already been one for two years... Two years of my life when I rarely left the house. I learned to dance, but hardly was allowed to walk. It’s time I enjoyed my spinsterhood.’
He thumped his head with the heel of his hand and then let it bump back against the side of the carriage, dislodging his hat. He righted it. ‘This must stop. You are pursuing a man, yet you say you don’t particularly care whether you wed or not.’
Darius growled, thumped the carriage top and, when the driver stopped, her father stepped out. But before he left, he peered inside. ‘Mavis, you are the cause of all this, I know it. Don’t miss a chamber pot.’
Then he slammed away.
Vivian waited until he was gone from sight before instructing the driver to return to Everleigh’s.
Mavis sighed. ‘If your father finds out, and he will, you may be helping me with my new duties.’
‘I hope Everleigh doesn’t mistake me for Alexandria,’ she muttered when the wheels stopped again.
‘She is blonde. You are brunette. That is the difference at this point,’ Mavis said.
‘I mean to have a talk with him and you’re going with me. I need a chaperon. Someone to tell Father the truth.’
‘You’d better hope Mrs Rush is there.’
‘I do.’
* * *
The carriage drew up to Everleigh’s house. Vivian jumped out and strode forward. Determined. It didn’t matter whether Everleigh wanted to pursue her or ignore her.
Her mother could not be involved in Ella Etta’s wrath. Who knew what the old woman might do? She’d already found Vivian’s house, and had had no compunction about making herself at home.
The driver gave both women a look between humour and horror. Vivian supposed her father would hear about this as well. She could offer the groom a bribe—which he would refuse. Her father paid better.
‘I can only hope he isn’t at home,’ Mavis mumbled, her reticule looped near her elbow. Her bonnet obscured her face, but Vivian knew that Mavis grimaced.
