Scandal's Deception

by Pamela Gibson

  “I fear I am too weary to quiz you further. The evening has brought many revelations. May I be excused? We can continue this conversation tomorrow.”

  “Of course.” Lady Amelia rang a bell on the table next to her. A footman entered. “John, please show my guest to her room.”

  “Very good, milady.” He bowed and turned toward Jane. “Follow me.”

  She remembered where her room was. Having a footman guide her was totally unnecessary. Pointing it out wasn’t worth an argument. She bid her hostess and her guardian good night and dutifully followed the footman who bowed as he left her at her door.

  What strange rituals these people have.

  From the discussion at dinner, it appeared she had a great deal to learn. Her mother should be doing this, the woman who was strangely absent. Ashamed, perhaps? Jane wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, but it now seemed obvious. And painful.

  The mother who gave her up still didn’t want her.

  Chapter 7

  Bright sunlight filtered through the window when she awoke. What time was it? Surely she hadn’t slept through breakfast.

  At home she’d be awake and dressed at dawn, milking cows, gathering eggs, then she’d share a cup of coffee in the kitchen with Maddie while making a list of tasks for the day. What chores would she be required to do here? It seemed like Lady Amelia had a person for each task.

  A soft knock at the door brought Mary into the room. “You’re awake. I’ll bring a tray to you, milady. Do you prefer tea or coffee in the morning?”

  “What is the time?”

  “Half past ten, milady.”

  “What?” This wouldn’t do at all. “Don’t bother with a tray. I’ll go to the kitchen and eat there.”

  Mary’s horrified expression made her pause.

  “Oh no, milady. You don’t eat in the kitchen here.”

  “Why not?”

  “’Tisn’t done.”

  “You shouldn’t have to carry a heavy tray up a flight of stairs because I overslept.”

  “Pardon my impertinence, milady. If you are hungry, and you don’t want a tray, you should make your way to the dining room. A footman will serve you.”

  Jane shook her head. What frivolous rules abounded here. “Very well.”

  She should skip breakfast altogether, but hunger gnawed at her belly. How could she be hungry when she had eaten such a huge meal last night? Mary had brought a pitcher of hot water and a jar of tooth powder. Jane finished her ablutions and wandered into the huge closet to dress herself, only to find Mary waiting.

  “I can do this. You needn’t remain.”

  “I’m here to help, milady.”

  Jane sighed. She’d always taken care of herself. While Maddie sometimes asked her to hire extras for unusual cleaning jobs or to help in the kitchen when Papa had several guests for dinner, there had never been a need for personal servants in their household. She’d learned to be independent from an early age. Having a maid was something she’d have to get used to.

  “How long have you been employed here, Mary?”

  “I’m not. I’m a nursery maid in Lady Elizabeth’s household.”

  Jane sucked in her breath as her stays were tightened. “Who is Lady Elizabeth?”

  “His lordship’s sister.”

  Odd, or was it? “You’re not a lady’s maid?”

  “My sister is. She’s been training me. I love taking care of pretty dresses and doing hair. Your hair is quite beautiful.”

  Jane peered into the looking glass in the corner. “You think so? I’ve never paid much attention to it.”

  “’Tis lustrous and soft and long. I wish I had hair like yours.”

  Jane studied the young maid’s auburn curls. “Your hair is quite nice and has curl to it. Mine is straight as a stick.”

  Mary grinned. “I can fix that. I have a device.”

  A device? For curling? “I’m amazed at the inventiveness of the English.”

  Mary finished buttoning the black day dress. “Do you not wear colors, milady?”

  “I’m in mourning for my father. Do women, er, ladies not wear black here when in mourning?”

  “They do, and I do beg your pardon. I didn’t know.”

  “How could you know?” Jane fastened an old-fashioned fichu and quickly braided her hair into two plaits which she twisted at the back of her neck. Mary watched silently, as if absorbing every twist of her wrist. “I can find my way to the dining room. No need to accompany me or ring for a footman.”

  “Yes, milady.”

  Jane entered the hall and slipped down the stairs. If Mrs. Murdock’s descriptions of English country houses were to be believed, Lady Amelia’s house would be considered a cottage. It had six spacious bedrooms upstairs, and all of the public rooms were on the ground floor.

  She entered the dining room and glanced around. A beautiful, framed oil painting depicting a plate of fruit adorned one wall. The other walls had sconces for candles. An intricately formed statuette of a maiden in a flowing dress decorated one end of a sideboard with cupboards above. Last night she’d been too tired to admire the décor. Today she had time to peruse the walls and adornments.

  No one else was about so she wandered through an open door that led into a short hallway with descending steps. The smell of cinnamon drew her to the bottom where she found an enormous kitchen set halfway belowground, with high windows letting in light. Meat on a spit cooked over an open fire in a large brick fireplace. A young maid, who appeared to be cleaning silverware, occasionally bent toward the cooking meat and turned the spit by hand.

  A woman in an apron and cap came forward. “Can I help you, miss?”

  “I was hoping for a cup of coffee and perhaps a slice of bread. It seems I missed breakfast. I do hate to bother you. If you can point me to it, I can get it myself.”

  “Are you the young guest from America?”

  “I am. Who might you be?”

  “I’m Mrs. Crawford, her ladyship’s cook. You shouldn’t be here, miss.” She tossed a glance back over her shoulder. “Lionel! Come escort her ladyship’s guest to the dining room.”

  “Are you sure? I can sit at that wooden table.”

  The woman had kind eyes that squinted when she smiled. “Now that would not be proper. Here’s Lionel.” She gestured toward a lanky young man. “He’ll seat you and come right back for your breakfast.”

  She followed the lad back up the stairs, sitting politely when he pulled out a chair at the dining table.

  “There you are.” Lord Ralston sauntered in. “I wondered if you would even rise today. You must be exhausted from all that travel.”

  “I became adjusted to changes while on shipboard, but yes, I was rather fagged. I apologize for being a slugabed. Have you been riding?” She noticed the cut of his coat and the riding crop in his hand.

  “I have.” He stopped talking as Lionel returned with a tray with coffee, toast, and pots of butter and jam. “May I join you? You can continue your questions.”

  “Of course.”

  The footman set another cup next to Ralston who asked for coffee and declined food. Studying her guardian’s features, Jane was again reminded of the Prince Charming story.

  “Do you ride? Aunt keeps horses for her carriage. I believe she still has a mount suitable for a lady.”

  “Yes. I had my own horse in Baltimore. A gray mare, very sweet-natured. Her name was Penny. She now resides with my father’s partner.”

  “Being able to ride is important in English society. We can ride in the mornings, unless you like to sleep in.”

  “I’m an early riser usually. I have chores to perform that are best done at dawn. What will I be expected to do here?”

  He seemed taken aback—his easy smile faded into
a distinct frown. “As I explained, you’re here to learn, and Aunt Amelia and I will be your teachers.”

  Like school? She already spoke French and could read Latin. She had a sound grasp of higher mathematics, thanks to one of her tutors, and she had devoured the classics while in her teens. She knew a bit about world history, but not a great deal, and while she tried, it was difficult to stay abreast of all the scientific advancements, especially in what was being called the industrial revolution. Did he mean politics?

  “I don’t follow. What are you here to teach me?”

  “Etiquette, behavior, societal rules. This is not America. You had a great deal more freedom there than you have here. If you misstep in any way, you could be ostracized, pilloried with words, given the cut direct. I’m here to help you navigate shark-infested waters, otherwise known as the bon ton.”

  “What if I don’t care? In little more than a year, I’ll be twenty-one. I can return to America, can’t I?”

  “If you wish. What would you do there? It was my understanding from your father’s solicitor that everything your father owned was sold. Your father wrote him that you had many acquaintances, but few close friends, which is why he wanted to give you your own establishment upon your majority so you could exercise your independence.” He nodded to the servant as his coffee was served.

  “He said your father’s fondest wish, and I am paraphrasing here, was that you marry. Your sister expects to accept an offer by the end of the Season. Next year, you’ll have your own season and can choose a husband. As rich as you are, I’m sure you will have several offers.”

  Jane choked and let her cup clatter in the saucer. Ralston jumped to his feet and rounded the table to tap her on her back as she coughed and sputtered. “You . . .” she wheezed. “You cannot be serious.”

  “I’m quite serious.” He stopped. “Are you all right?”

  “No. I am not. I’m annoyed. Whose twistical idea was this? Not my father’s. It must be that woman’s, for I shall not deign to call her Mother since she has not even had the courtesy to set eyes on the daughter she hasn’t seen since infancy.”

  She sat back and hid her mouth with her napkin. Lordy, she couldn’t believe she’d allowed herself to lose control in front of a virtual stranger. Her mother’s lack of attention was beginning to hurt, and Jane’s initial eagerness was becoming resentment.

  Ralston sat next to her. He put his hands over hers, forcing her to look into his eyes. His warm hands raised those pesky little tingles she’d begun to feel in his presence.

  “You have every right to be angry. This is a very unusual, or should I say bizarre, situation. Whether you believe me or not, I was astonished to find myself named guardian of two young girls, daughters of a man I’ve never met, a man who surely thought he was handing over such a somber duty to my father. Knowing the evils of the ton, I am determined to make you as polished and knowledgeable as a diamond of the first water. Life handed you bitter fruit. I intend to turn you into a delicacy.”

  “What of your aunt?”

  “Aunt Amelia feels the same. She’s furious with my sister who certainly had a part in this scheme. Lady Siltsbury is my sister Elizabeth’s good friend. Aunt Amelia is as necessary as I am to your education. She lends propriety to the fact that I, an unmarried gentleman, am housed with you, an unmarried lady. Do you understand my meaning?”

  “I’m not dense.” She freed her hands, coughed one more time into her napkin to hide her discomfort, then resumed her breakfast.

  “I’m going to change, and I will be back later to give you a tour of the premises.” He finished his coffee and left her to her breakfast.

  So Mama dearest didn’t want her long-lost daughter to be an embarrassment. Jane narrowed her eyes and tapped her fingers on the tabletop as she contemplated the words uttered by her guardian.

  There would be no harm in learning what she could, and if she chose not to put her so-called education into use, that would be her decision.

  Revenge would be sweet.

  He who plots against others often hurts himself.

  Bugger Aesop. She’d be careful and bide her time. For now it appeared she had a great deal to learn.

  And Prince Charming would be her teacher.

  Chapter 8

  After consuming the last crumb on her plate, she strolled into the sitting room she’d visited last night. While not large, by day it seemed more elegant. Tall windows framed by heavy curtains faced a charming garden with blooming spring flowers in a series of squares in a formal arrangement. A stone walkway joined them with branches of the path heading off to the sides.

  She wandered around the room, studying the framed paintings on the walls. One was of two young girls draped elegantly on a blanket with a basket of food between them. Another, this one a watercolor, was of a rose garden. She could almost smell the crimson blooms, they were so cleverly painted. She stopped in front of the pianoforte at the end of the room and stroked her hand across its polished surface. She’d always loved music, but Papa had scoffed when she’d expressed a desire to play an instrument and said her time should be spent on more practical pursuits. She placed her hand on the keys and struck a note. Perhaps music was to be part of her instruction.

  Scanning the rest of the room, her gaze stopped at the pie-shaped table which had held a tea service last night. She hadn’t paid attention when her ladyship dispensed tea. Mrs. Murdock said it took talent to do it properly, especially in company.

  How silly. Why can’t one lift the pot, tip its contents into a cup, and be done with it?

  She wondered what else she must learn during her stay. Dearest Mama couldn’t keep her hidden away forever, and that was precisely what this was beginning to look like. Why? Surely her mother wasn’t ill. The guardian would have told her. Was she disfigured or shamed by some circumstance? Ralston had said she wanted her American daughter to learn the ways of the ton. Couldn’t she do that in London with her mother—and sister?

  You’re feeling sorry for yourself again.

  Anger was easier, anger at the woman who bore her, who obviously didn’t want her. How inconvenient it must be for the unwanted daughter from the other side of the sea to make an appearance. What will Mama’s friends think?

  She finished her perambulation and stood in front of a cabinet full of ornate boxes, each the size of a pin box.

  “You’re early.”

  She turned to face Lord Ralston who came to stand beside her.

  “I hope it’s all right for me to be in this room with no one about.”

  “Nonsense. This is your home, albeit temporarily.” He opened the door of the tall glass case and removed one of the tiny boxes. “Do you know what these are?”

  “No. They’re beautiful pieces. Each is different.”

  He opened the lid and held it close to her nose. She sniffed, stepped back, and sneezed. “I do beg your pardon.”

  “’Tis snuff. One puts a pinch in the nose and sniffs it in. It has the same effect as tobacco, or so I am told.”

  “A great deal of tobacco is raised in Virginia, a state near Maryland. Papa smoked cheroots. I never saw him use snuff.”

  Ralston put the tiny diamond-encrusted box back on its shelf. “Nor do I, but Lord Lipscomb, Aunt Amelia’s late husband, was fond of the stuff. This is his private collection.”

  “When did he die?”

  “A decade ago. He was the third son of a duke. An officer in His Majesty’s Army.”

  “Did he fight us, er, in America?”

  “No, he was assigned to the continent.”

  Her upbringing had been very different, and she’d been raised to be patriotic. How could she change allegiance when her most vivid memory was terror the night the British burned Baltimore? She’d been an impressionable young girl, who hid for days in the dark cellar with
Maddie, not knowing where Papa was, what he was doing.

  She swallowed and stared at her feet. A wave of homesickness swept over her, a moment of grief for the man who had been her constant companion and best friend, not just a parent. Forcing herself to control the sob that threatened, she raised her chin to look directly into Ralston’s eyes. “The collection is remarkable, as is this entire room. I’m quite curious about the garden. Might we go out to look at the flowers? Perhaps you can tell me what they are.”

  “If I knew, I’d gladly tell you. You’ll have to seek out Jones, the head gardener, for that. I know what a rose looks like. Unlike my father, I’m befuddled when it comes to most of the other blooms.”

  “A head gardener?”

  “Yes. Which reminds me. Today I want to show you around the place and explain what is done here and on grander estates. You’ll need your cloak, gloves, and bonnet. It’s chilly here in April, but no rain today.”

  “Will Lady Amelia be coming with us?”

  “No, she’s still abed.”

  Jane ascended the stairs and burst into her room. Mary greeted her with a pile of sheets. “What is it, milady? Do you need me?”

  “No, I’m to walk with his lordship around the grounds. Where did I put my gloves? Have you seen them?”

  “In the dressing room, milady. You’ll need to put on half boots and a secure bonnet. There’s wind today.”

  She put on her outerwear and headed back downstairs to the drawing room. Lord Ralston waited there, hat in hand.

  “You’re ready? Follow me.” They left by a door set into the wall behind the thick draperies. Jane hadn’t even noticed it. Steps led into the garden, and she sighed at the beauty of the colorful plots. Lady Amelia must be proud of her garden to have a head gardener, meaning there were others as well.

  “What are these poofy white flowers?”

  “These I know. They’re called viburnums.”