by Sandra Heath
Chapter 27
A few minutes later, Linnet and Mary left Sir Henry’s chambers, and set off swiftly in the landau, their destination not Carlisle House but Fane House. Linnet knew she had to see Nicholas if she was to salvage anything from the wreckage left by her past actions, and by the actions of her uncle. Nicholas had every justification for being bitter and resentful, but if he’d loved her until only a few hours ago, then that love was surely not lost beyond redemption. She had to throw herself on his mercy, confess her love, and beg forgiveness for her gross and hurtful errors of judgment, and then hope against hope that he’d grant her one final chance. Oh, please God, let him grant her a last opportunity to right all the wrongs…
But she wasn’t going to have the chance she sought, for the gates of Fane House were closed against her. The landau drove smartly enough down John Street, but as it neared the lodge and gates, it became caught up in a gaggle of other vehicles. It seemed a considerable portion of society had converged upon this part of Mayfair, and the reason was something that had occurred in the sunken garden by the statue of Nicholas’s grandfather.
The coachman managed to inch the landau close to the lodge, threading the team in and out of the other vehicles. Linnet looked out and saw that there was quite a crowd gathered in the garden. She wondered what had happened, the more so when she saw that a canvas awning had been hastily erected around the statue, hiding it completely from view, except, perhaps, from the upper windows of Fane House and the crescent.
At last the coachman maneuvered the team across the road, drawing them up before the closed gates. He expected the lodgekeeper to emerge and admit the landau at once, but this wasn’t what happened. He quickly came out, but shook his head when he saw the identity of the would-be visitor.
The coachman was indignant. “Open the way, for this is Miss Carlisle’s carriage!”
The man’s eyes slid unwillingly toward Linnet, who was rather startled to see a deep resentment written in his gaze. “No,” he said firmly, “for I have strict instructions not to admit this lady, and it’s an order I more than gladly carry out.” Without so much as a nod of his head, he turned and went back into the lodge.
Linnet stared after him in dismay. Nicholas had specifically ordered that she be refused admittance?
At that moment someone in the garden happened to turn and see her. It was the omnipresent Mr. Algernon Halliday, and he lost no time at all in drawing everyone’s attention to the apparently immensely interesting fact of her presence.
“I say, mes enfants, do look and see who’s calling! It’s the little brown bird herself! Come to peck a little more, eh?” He began to laugh.
Many heads turned, and Linnet was both alarmed and appalled to see the great stir her appearance was causing. A number of people she knew began to hasten toward the steps, obviously intending to speak to her about something of considerable and pressing interest, and she suddenly knew that the last thing she should do was allow them to engage her in any sort of conversation.
She looked swiftly at the coachman. “Drive off, and as quickly as you can.”
“Madam.”
The landau moved slowly as the team was brought about, and it seemed to Linnet that it would be surrounded by people before it could drive away. She glanced back at the sunken garden. What on earth could have happened? And why had Algernon Halliday referred to her so cryptically as ‘the little brown bird herself’? The landau was pulling away at last, and as it left the crowd well behind and began to come up to a smart pace, her glance moved for a final time to the strange awning protecting the statue. What was being concealed? The landau’s pace took the garden from her view, carrying her safely from the press of acquaintances who were so intent upon speaking to her.
“Oh, miss! Look! It’s Lord Fane!”
Mary’s sharp exclamation brought Linnet’s attention swiftly back to the road some way ahead, and, sure enough, Nicholas was riding toward them on his Arabian horse, the greyhounds following obediently.
He wore a charcoal coat, cream cord breeches, and a light-blue silk waistcoat. He looked as if he’d been riding hard in Hyde Park, for his face was a little flushed and his neckcloth had become undone. His hair was windswept, and his top hat was tipped right back on his head.
He saw the landau as the coachman automatically halted it in front of him, and he recognized its occupants, but he made to ride straight past.
“Nicholas?” Linnet called out urgently to him. He had to speak to her, he had to!
Still he didn’t rein in.
“Nicholas! Please, I beg of you!”
He reined in at last, turning coldly in the saddle to survey her. His eyes were impenetrable, and his manner offered no encouragement at all. “I have nothing to say to you anymore, madam. This final insult is more than anyone could be expected to endure. Many things I have thought of you, but not that you were possessed of so offensive a sense of humor.”
She stared at him. “I—I don’t understand.”
“No? Spare me your clever acting, madam.”
“Nicholas, I love you.”
His eyebrow twitched contemptuously. “Indeed? I suppose I’m expected to believe you, and then crush you to my bosom. Forgive me if I decline to oblige.”
“Nicholas, I do love you. You were right, I’ve always loved you, and if you want me to say how ashamed I am of all the things I’ve said in the past, then I willingly say it. I was wrong, wrong about everything, and I wish with all my heart that I’d shown more faith and loyalty toward you. Please, forgive me and allow me one more chance.”
His eyes flashed incredulously. “Madam, you really take my breath away! You look so sweet and innocent, I might even say adorably innocent, when in truth you are a viper entirely without scruple. I consider myself to have had a fortunate escape.” Without waiting for her to say anything more, he kicked his heels and spurred the horse on toward Fane House.
The coachman urged the landau forward once more and at last they reached Carlisle House, driving into the refuge of the courtyard where they found Venetia’s barouche drawn up before the house, but Linnet was so close to tears that she hardly saw it as she alighted from the landau. Mary ushered her into the house, and Venetia hurried from the drawing room, her slender figure eyecatching in vermilion silk.
“Linnet, I have something very disagreeable to tell you…” Her steps faltered as she saw how distressed Linnet was. “Oh, whatever has happened? Do you know already about the statue?”
Linnet strove to collect herself. “The-the statue? No.”
Venetia waved Mary away and put a comforting arm around Linnet’s trembling shoulders. “Sommers has just brought me a tray of coffee in the drawing room, and I rather fancy that it would do you good to take a cup with me. It’s all right, it’s just me, your great-aunt has yet to return.”
For the second time in less than a day, Linnet found herself being led gently into the drawing room. Venetia steered her to the sofa before which the tray had been placed on a table, and when she was seated, took a place herself and began to pour the coffee.
“I asked Sommers to bring two cups and saucers, because I hoped you would return soon,” she said lightly, pressing a cup into Linnet’s cold hands. “Now, then, you are to tell me exactly why you are in such a pitiable state. Every detail, now, you are to miss nothing out.”
Wearily, Linnet began to relate what had occurred at Sir Henry’s chambers.
Venetia’s lips parted in amazement. “Your uncle was the one who cheated? And he deliberately told all those lies about Nicholas?”
“Yes. Oh, Venetia, I feel so dreadful that I wish I were dead. I drove to Fane House, but there was a great crowd, and the lodgekeeper wouldn’t admit me. He said that Nicholas had specifically ordered that I be kept out.”
“Yes, I rather imagine that that is indeed so,” replied Venetia quietly.
Linnet looked at her. “What has happened?” she demanded. “All I know is that I seem to be the cause
of a great new stir, and that it’s nothing to do with Portman Street last night. Why did that odious Halliday toad call me the ‘little brown bird herself’? And why did Nicholas then accuse me of having ‘an offensive sense of humor’?”
“You’ve seen Nicholas this morning?” asked Venetia quickly.
“Yes, for a moment or so in the street. He was returning from a ride.”
“But he spoke to you?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Linnet’s voice shook again, and she struggled to maintain her composure.
Venetia put her cup down and rose to her feet, going to the fireplace. She turned to face Linnet. “Someone removed the stolen plume from this room and took it to the statue in the Fane Street garden, where it was tied rather ridiculously to the horse’s tail. The statue itself was daubed with tar and stuck all over chicken feathers.”
Linnet stared at her. “But, who would do such a thing?” she breathed.
Venetia met her eyes. “Society has no option but to believe it was you, Linnet.”
“Me? But, why?”
“Because there was a verse tied to the horse. I, er, wrote it down. It’s on that piece of paper on the table next to the tray. Turn it over, and you’ll see.”
Hesitantly, Linnet picked up the sheet, and turned it to see some hastily scribbled lines in pencil.
On this plume’s owner, no pity need you waste,
For her feathers are tawdry, and she lacks all taste.
By placing her here, it’s doubtless she can
Be identified by Mayfair, down to a man.
But who chose this admirable place to show her true worth?
Why, ‘tis a sly-little, brown-little, bird from the north!
Linnet closed her eyes, her breath escaping on a long, dismayed sigh. Now she knew only too well what Algernon Halliday had meant. The little brown bird from the north was so simple to translate: Linnet Carlisle.
Venetia went to her, taking the sheet of paper and ripping it into fragments. “I’m so sorry, Linnet, and if I knew who’d done such a despicable thing, I swear I’d tear them limb from limb for hurting you so. Think, now. Have you any idea at all who it might be? Who knew about the plume? I saw it, and so did Mary—oh, and so did Sommers, for he brought in that tray of hot spiced milk.”
Linnet leaned her head back, her eyes closed. “The plume was still on the table when we retired, Venetia, so any one of the servants could have seen it. It’s becoming more and more plain that I have someone in this house who has been betraying me, but short of dismissing them all, I don’t know what to do about it.”
“But…”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Venetia.”
“You can’t just let it go, Linnet!”
“Please, Venetia!” Linnet was at the end of her tether, and the last thing she needed was pressure to do something about which she felt so utterly helpless. She got up. “I really would prefer to be left alone for a while. I don’t mean to sound rude or ungrateful, but…”
Venetia put an understanding hand on her arm. “Of course. Forgive my insensitivity. Shall I call upon you tonight?”
“Yes. That would be nice.”
Venetia went to the door, and then turned. “Benedict received your note.”
“Did he attempt to make excuses?”
“No, for he is so demonstrably in the wrong. I believe he was indeed becoming too fond of you, however, far too fond for La Jordan’s peace of mind. Anyway, it seems she is suddenly in a position to rescue him from the duns, and so losing your fortune isn’t the catastrophe it might otherwise have been. I’ve told him he must leave, for I’ll never forgive him. He didn’t just use you abominably, Linnet, he did the same to me.”
As the door closed behind her, Linnet sat down again. All that had happened was just too much, and as Venetia’s barouche drove away across the yard, she hid her face in her hands and gave in to tears of utter misery.
Chapter 28
She didn’t know how long she wept, but at last the sobs subsided, and she sat there quietly, wondering who had worked so secretly and effectively against her. Who had informed Judith Jordan about every detail of the plan to go to the masked ball? And who had taken the black plume and used it with such devastating success on the statue? The plume was perhaps the most important matter, for who could have had the opportunity to take it from this very room in the short time it had been here? Until she’d placed it on the table, no one could even have known she’d succeeded in removing it from Portman Street. Venetia and Mary had seen it, and so had Sommers, but after that, any one of the servants could have seen and taken it. She sighed. Always it came back to the servants, and Carlisle House, like any other large residence, had a veritable army of them.
At first she didn’t hear the carriage approaching across the courtyard, but as it halted at the door the coachman called out to his restive team, rousing her from her thoughts. Hope leapt into her heart that it might be Nicholas, and she got up quickly to hurry across to the window. To her amazement and outrage, she saw Judith Jordan’s white landau, with the Bird of Paradise herself seated ostentatiously inside. The Cyprian looked magnificent in a clinging white muslin gown and golden velvet spencer, and the inevitable plume sprang provocatively from her golden velvet hat. The white poodle sat on the seat next to her, getting up as she prepared to alight.
For a moment Linnet was too stunned to move, but then she drew resolutely back from the window. How dare that creature call at this house! How dare she! Gathering her skirts, she hurried furiously out into the hall, intending to command Sommers to refuse the Cyprian admittance, but it was already too late. The butler had already opened the door, and was caught unawares as the Cyprian swept grandly past him, accompanied by the poodle.
Linnet halted, trembling with rage. “Sommers? Have this person ejected immediately.”
The butler looked wretched. “Er, yes, madam…”
Judith’s haughty eyes swept disparagingly over him. “Lay one finger upon me, sirrah, and you’ll know how very sharp a poodle’s teeth can be.” She made a soft clicking sound, and as the poodle began to growl in a surprisingly ferocious way, she turned to survey Linnet. “You and I should talk, Miss Carlisle.”
“On the contrary, Miss Jordan, you and I have nothing whatsoever to say to each other.”
The blue eyes shone with a glint of humor. “Would I be right in saying that you had nothing at all to do with what was done in the Fane Crescent garden this morning?”
Linnet hesitated. “Yes.”
“Would I also be right in thinking that you’d very much like to know who did do it?”
“Yes.” Linnet looked more intently at her. “Do you know?”
“Shall we just say that I can make a very educated guess. Now then, do you still wish to have me thrown out? Or would you prefer to hear me out?”
Linnet drew a long breath, and then nodded at Sommers. “That will be all.”
He could scarce conceal his relief. “Madam,” he murmured, bowing and hurrying away.
Linnet stood aside. “Shall we adjourn to the drawing room, Miss Jordan?”
“That would be most agreeable, Miss Carlisle.” The poodle followed as the two women proceeded from the entrance hall into the privacy of the drawing room.
As she sat down, Judith’s glance took in the evidence of recent tears on Linnet’s face. She smiled a little. “I’m told that cold stewed apple is very efficacious for sore eyes, Miss Carlisle.”
“I will be sure to remember,” replied Linnet coolly, sitting down opposite. “Now then, Miss Jordan, if you have something to say…”
“Cards on the table?”
Linnet nodded slowly, wondering what was in the other’s mind. “Yes, Miss Jordan, cards on the table.”
“Very well. May I begin by saying that I have no wish at all to continue being at odds with you; indeed, it so happens that the very opposite is now the case.”
“Indeed?”
Judith took a long br
eath. “I was very jealous of you, Miss Carlisle, and more than a little frightened that I was about to lose the only man I’ve ever truly loved. Oh, I know Benedict for what he is, but that hasn’t prevented me from being monumentally unwise over him. I’ve always been successful in my chosen way of life, but even the sort of success I’ve hitherto enjoyed has failed to bring me the fortune Benedict needed if he was to escape the duns. That is why I aided and abetted him, first by keeping quiet while he awaited his aunt’s death, and, when she didn’t leave him her estate, by subsequently keeping quiet while he turned his attentions to seeking a wealthy wife.
“I was content enough when he decided upon you, but then I realized that he was beginning to like you too much for my peace of mind. I was angry and put out, and at first I contented myself by taunting you when you returned to town. I felt safe in doing this, because I knew you would interpret my actions as being caused by jealousy over Lord Fane, and because I knew there was precious little Benedict would be able to do about it. Everything seemed to be escalating, however, for the duns pursued him, first of all at the Theatre Royal, and then at the Hanover Square Rooms. They left him in no doubt at all that settlement had better be swiftly forthcoming or otherwise he’d find himself in jail.”
Linnet sat back. So, those two strange incidents had been because of duns. No wonder he’d looked so pale and strained when he’d returned to the box at the theater, and again after speaking to the so-called “workmen” at the sculpture exhibition. When she thought about those events now, she recalled that after each one he’d pressed her to marry him as quickly as possible, pretending that it was because he loved her so desperately. Dull color touched her cheeks, and she lowered her eyes.
Judith surveyed her. “Forgive me if what I’m telling you seems to heap insult upon injury, but I’m merely explaining it all exactly as it was. As I was saying, I put up with everything, but then I realized that you meant more to him than you should, so I decided that something positive had to be done, otherwise I’d lose him forever. I have recently been importuned by a somewhat elderly and disagreeable Russian who wishes to lavish costly gifts upon me, and Miss Carlisle, when I say costly gifts, I truly mean it, for the very first thing he gave me was a diamond necklace that would have pleased the Empress Catherine herself. On reflection, it probably once belonged to that lady, for I vow it’s fine enough to be part of the imperial jewels.” The Cyprian stroked the poodle as it sat by her knee, gazing up at her with soulful, adoring eyes.
