The Counterfeit Countess

by Diana Campbell

  “Oh, it was very splendid indeed,” Selina replied grimly.

  Rose nodded and curtsied into the corridor, and

  Selina crawled gratefully beneath the bedclothes. She closed her eyes, but she could not shut her ears to the noises which emanated from beyond the connecting door. As nearly as she could calculate, his lordship opened and closed some fifty drawers, at least half as many doors, and—his toilette apparently completed—he then broke into a happy, tuneless whistle. Selina nervously wondered what sort of sleeping accommodations they would have at Seymour Manor, but there was nothing to be gained by speculation, and eventually she pulled the pillow over her head.

  Chapter 10

  Selina had never ascertained whether she was an optimist by nature or her frenetic life with Papa had compelled her to Find an advantage in every new dilemma. Whatever the reason, she was normally able to glimpse a silver lining beneath the very blackest of clouds, and the proposed journey to Wiltshire proved no exception. As she dressed for breakfast the morning after the ball, Selina realized that her departure from London would serve to remove her from Miss Bradley’s unfriendly view, which, with luck, would drive all thought of vengeance quite out of Miss Bradley’s mind. Indeed, the trip now seemed such a good idea that Selina hoped they could set out at once, perhaps even that very day. She was consequendy dismayed when Grandmama came to Mount Street shortly after noon and announced that the party would not quit town until Monday.

  “The victory illuminations are to be displayed tomorrow evening.” Mrs. Seymour explained, “and naturally we do not wish to miss them.” Alex and Papa and Jeremy had gone out, and she and Selina were taking tea alone in the drawing room. “If we were to leave the following day, Saturday, we should have to continue on Sunday; and while I do not personally disapprove of Sunday travel, I fear Simon would be quite shocked. We shall therefore go on Monday; I have already made the arrangements. Your staff can stay behind, close the house and join us in a week or so.”

  “Join us?” Selina’s cup began to rattle in her saucer, and she hastily set them on the sofa table.

  “Did you think to operate Worfields without servants?” Grandmama asked rhetorically. “You will require a far larger staff than your present one, of course, but they can serve as a start. As there is no great hurry, they can travel down by wagon: the wagons are slow but wonderfully inexpensive.”

  Winthrop’s scowl made it clear that he did not fancy this ignominious mode of transport at all, but evidently he counted himself fortunate to retain his post, for he issued no objection. Selina dismally perceived that the involvement of the servants rendered her own situation all the more complex, but surely there was another silver lining here, just waiting to be discovered.

  “I collect that many of our friends have elected to remain in the city a few days as well," Mrs. Seymour continued, “for nearly a dozen cards of invitation were delivered to Brook Street this morning. You see, Selina, I told you you had made a splendid impression.” Grandmama smiled fondly and extended a sheaf of heavy, ivory envelopes. “I brought the cards along; I shall permit you to select those events we shall attend.”

  Selina would vastly have preferred not to attend any of the scheduled events, but since this was clearly impossible, she carefully studied the invitations. Two were for dinner parties, and Selina speculated that, under the circumstances, Miss Bradley was unlikely to be numbered amongst the guests.

  “These, I believe,” she said.

  She passed the cards back, and Mrs. Seymour noted her choices without comment. Grandmama departed soon afterward, and Selina sped back to her bedchamber, literally praying that she had made the right decision.

  For once, the fickle gods responded, and the weekend, though busy, was excruciatingly dull. The victory illuminations proved a bitter disappointment—Lord Preston opined that there had been insufficient time to prepare a proper celebration—and Miss Bradley did not appear at either of the dinner parties. Alex conducted himself with perfect, dispassionate courtesy throughout, and Selina persuaded herself that matters were, indeed, working out for the best.

  The size of their group, to say nothing of the requisite luggage, necessitated the engagement of two chaises; and the pair, traveling in tandem, clattered out of London just after dawn on Monday morning. Papa and Mrs. Seymour occupied the lead carriage, Selina, Alex and Jeremy the second, and the boy’s presence precluded any meaningful conversation between Selina and his lordship. She was initially inclined to view this circumstance as still another advantage, but she soon recognized that she was deluding herself: she and the Earl had nearly been tripped up on several occasions already, and they must devise a mutually agreeable course of action. At the first change of horses, she consequently suggested that Jeremy switch carriages, and he obedi- endy jumped out of their chaise and raced to the one ahead. However, he returned almost at once and, disdaining to use the steps, clambered back into his seat.

  “I cannot ride with them,” he reported breathlessly. “They are playing at cards, and they do not wish to be disturbed. I collect that Grandmama is winning, for her reticule is stuffed with money. At any rate, I shall be with you all day, and I should like you to tell me stories. I’ll wager you know some really bang-up stories, Selina; about bloody Indian uprisings and such.”

  Jeremy shivered in delicious anticipation, and Selina sighed and laid her head against the seat.

  During the final post of the day, the second chaise fell somewhat behind the first, and when they reached Reading, where they were to spend the night, they found Grandmama pacing the innyard and peering* rather nervously up the road. She greeted them with relief and ushered them into the building, and Papa hurried forward to meet them.

  “I have engaged the rooms,” he said. “Four adjacent chambers on the first story—”

  “Four!” Mrs. Seymour protested. “That strikes me as entirely unnecessary.”

  “Yes, I had thought to engage a separate room for Jeremy as well," Papa agreed, “but I soon reconsidered.

  He is a trifle young to stay alone, and I shall be happy to share my room with him.”

  “You certainly shall share with Jeremey,” Grandmama said, “and Alex and Selina will share as well. Really, John, for a man who has recently lost fifty pounds at macao, you appear inclined to spend money with the most shocking abandon.”

  Papa flushed with embarrassment, and Selina was at the point of laughing until she registered the horrible import of Mrs. Seymour’s words. “I’ve an even better idea,” she said shrilly. “Yes, we can save even more if Papa and Jeremy and Alex all share a room and you and I share another—”

  “Nonsense!” This seemed to be one of Grandmama’s favorite words. “I am thrifty, dear, but I am not clutchfisted. No, three rooms will do very nicely; please advise the landlord, John.”

  Papa did so, and while the men and Jeremy returned to the innyard to supervise the unloading of the luggage, the landlord escorted Mrs. Seymour and Selina to their respective chambers. Selina discovered hers to be small and fairly crammed with furniture: there was not an inch of space between the bed and the nightstand; perhaps even less between the washstand and the wardrobe; and the chair was situated so close to the window as to have created a permanent dent in the draperies. At least, she thought grimly, there was a chair.

  “This way; yes, right through here.”

  Selina whirled around at the sound of his lordship’s voice and watched as Alex led their postilion into the room. The latter dumped two minuscule valises on the floor, emitted a dramatic moan, massaged his back in apparent agony and simultaneously extended his hand. The Earl placed a coin in the outstretched palm, and the postboy, miraculously recovered, sped back into the corridor and closed the door behind him.

  “Ah.” Alex gazed about. “Cozy, is it not?”

  “Cozy?” Selina snapped. “To the contrary, I judge it most uncomfortably confining, for which you have only yourself to thank.”

  “Myself to thank?” his lor
dship echoed. "As I recollect, it was Grandmama who insisted we share a room.” “That may be true,” Selina sniffed, “but we should not be here to share a room had you not agreed to go to Wiltshire."

  “We should not have been invited to Wiltshire had you not agreed to the ball,” the Earl rejoined testily.

  “There would have been no possibility of a ball had your sister not babbled the news of our marriage to Grandmama!" Selina stamped her foot. ·

  “There would have been no news to babble had you not elected to pose as my ‘widow’l” Alex roared.

  “Well, there—there ...”

  Selina had been about to blame the captain of the ill-fated Nightingale for their miserable predicament, but his lordship’s mouth began to twitch, and she realized that they were behaving like peevish children. In point of fact, there was ample guilt on both sides, and any further castings of stones was a dangerous exercise in futility. They were mutually trapped in a web of deception, and—as Selina had perceived earlier—they must henceforth present a united front.

  “There is no need to pursue this foolish argument,” she finished. “I know quite well what you’re seeking.” “Do you indeed?” the Earl said. “You must be half a gypsy then because I have yet to determine what I’m seeking.”

  “Please do not dissemble, Alex,” Selina sighed. “It required no gypsy powers to see that you are eager to have Worfields refurbished at Grandmama’s expense. You will be delighted to learn that matters are resolving themselves very satisfactorily, for Grandmama has arranged for the Mount Street staff to come to Wiltshire. I daresay you can manage with them and perhaps a few more until you bring Miss Bradley to live at Worfields. She can then hire a staff of her own.”

  “It appears you have my life entirely planned.” His lordship sketched a chilly smile. “As my memory is rather short, I hope you will be kind enough to issue instructions on a daily basis: advise me what I am to wear, what I am to consume for breakfast—’’

  “I was merely attempting to cooperate!” Selina interposed warmly. “I intended to add that we cannot continue to do battle over every minor point arising from our charade, but I suspect I am wasting my breath.” She spun away from him, planning to stalk out of the room, but she belatedly recalled that she had nowhere else to go, and she stamped her foot again instead.

  “I am sorry, Selina.” Alex’s long fingers twined about her arm, and he turned her back round to face him. “The fact is I have been a trifle confused of late. I . ..”

  His voice trailed off, but he did look genuinely remorseful, and Selina decided not to await a further apology.

  “That was precisely my point,” she said. “Our situation is confusing, and we must agree upon our future strategy. It is certainly to your advantage to proceed with the renovation of the house, and, as I have stated, I will cooperate in that endeavor. I fancy I shall even be compelled to move in for a time, but at the earliest opportunity we must leave Wiltshire—pretend to go off on holiday, for instance—and kill me off.”

  “As you wish.”

  The Earl spoke rather stiffly, and Selina wondered if she was, indeed, inclined to “issue instructions.” If so, she glimpsed the perfect balm for his lordship’s wounded vanity.

  “In the interim,” she continued, “we are likely to encounter any number of complications, and we cannot conduct a public argument on each occasion. Therefore, since you know your grandmother far better than I, I am prepared to defer to your judgments.”

  “Are you?” Alex perceptibly brightened. “That is most charitable of you, Selina, and I shall render my first judgment at once. In the matter of the bed, I much prefer the left side—”

  “Any reasonable judgment!” Selina screeched. “I will not share your bed tonight or any other night!”

  “You disappoint me, Selina.” His lordship heaved a great sigh. "We shall no doubt spend some months in close proximity, and they could prove a most enjoyable interlude—”

  “I have never been one to favor ‘interludes,’ milord," Selina interrupted coldly.

  “So I collected from our previous—ahem—discussion."

  His eyes had turned an unfamiliar, unreadable hue, something between lavender and blue, but perhaps that was a reflection of his new periwinkle frock coat. In any event, the coat—in combination with his immaculately tailored gray pantaloons, his high, snowy shirt-points, his intricately tied neckcloth—rendered him almost terrifyingly attractive; and Selina willed herself not to succumb to his charm.

  ‘‘No,’’ the Earl went on, “you will settle for nothing less than marriage, will you, Selina?”

  He had, if unwittingly, broken the spell, and Selina jerked her arm from his grasp. “No, I shall not,” she concurred. “And insofar as our proximity is concerned, it is not to continue beyond tonight. When we reach Seymour Manor, you must request that we be given separate bedchambers.”

  “Oh, I shall,” he promised solemnly. “So I cannot suppose any irreparable harm would ensue if tonight, tonight only—”

  “Tonight you will sleep in the chair,” Selina interposed Firmly.

  “The chair!” Alex yelped. “I shall have to sleep sitting up.”

  “I observed that you managed to nap quite comfortably in the chaise," Selina said sweetly, “so I am sure the chair will pose no great problem. After dinner, you are to go to the taproom for a brandy—I fancy Papa will be pleased to join you—so as to give me a chance to undress. When you arrive, I shall be buried amongst the bedclothes. Have I overlooked anything?”

  “Yes, you have. How can I be certain you will not peek at me while / undress?”

  “Alex!"

  Selina stamped her foot a Final time, and his lordship chuckled and strode across the room. "In order to fortify myself for the chair, I believe I shall have a pre-dinner brandy as well,” he said. "If you will excuse me?”

  He negotiated an elaborate bow and, still chuckling, opened the door, slipped into the corridor and closed the door behind him. Selina scurried in the opposite direction, parted the curtains and shoved the chair against the windowsill.

  "We are here, Selina!”

  Jeremy jammed his elbow most painfully into her ribs, and Selina forced her eyes open and looked out the carriage window. She soon surmised that they had only reached the grounds of Seymour Manor, for the chaise continued to bowl along at full speed, and there was nothing visible ahead of them or on either side but trees. She suppressed a moan and closed her eyes again.

  She and Papa had once slept literally upon the road between New York and Philadelphia, but apart from that, Selina could not recall a more wretched night than the one just past. Alex had obediendy had a brandy in the taproom with Papa, and by the time he reached their chamber, Selina was safely tucked beneath the bedclothes. However, she had failed to allow for the fact that it was an exceedingly warm night, and within the space of half an hour, she was fairly soaked with perspiration. In short, she could not have fallen asleep under any circumstances, but she thought his lordship seized every possible opportunity to disturb her: repeatedly opening and closing his valise, dragging the chair back and forth beneath the window, whistling tunelessly under his breath all the while. When, at last, he was situated in the chair, he seemed to take perverse delight in tossing and turning and emitting frequent, martyred groans. Eventually Selina, hoping to obtain some sleep, kicked the covers away, but this exposure rendered her extremely nervous. As a result, the slightest squeak of the chair’s ancient springs was sufficient to bring her fully awake and set her to peering fearfully across the room; and she calculated that the springs had squeaked at regular five-minute intervals throughout the night.

  Morning presented another problem: though Selina had carefully planned their undressing, she had neglected to consider how they were to dress again. They debated the matter at exhaustive length, and the Earl finally stated that he would dress first, using one of the wardrobe doors as a shield.

  “Of course, that is far from a satisfactory solu
tion,” he sighed, “and I am compelled to rely on your honor. You must promise not to spy—"

  “Just hush and dress!” Selina hissed.

  This proved an interminable procedure as well, and when Alex ultimately sauntered out from behind the door—looking quite resplendent and utterly refreshed—he announced that Selina herself must dress, breakfast and be ready to depart in fifteen minutes. Had she not been so tired and so hot—she had been buried in the bedclothes throughout his extended toilette—she fancied she could quite cheerfully have killed him.

  “We’re here!” Jeremy squealed. “Oh, we really are here; wake up, Selina.”

  She reluctantly opened her eyes once more, gazed groggily about and sucked in her breath. She had expected Seymour Manor to be large, stately, even luxurious; but she now collected that piracy was a very lucrative “profession” indeed, for the house resembled nothing so much as a castle. She counted ten identifiable wings, then realized she had overlooked the numerous towers scattered about. To say nothing of the great square battlement looming up in the center . . .

  The chaise stopped, and the postboy dismounted, lowered the steps and assisted them out. Jeremy dashed toward the front door, but Selina stood, frankly gaping, until Papa and Grandmama emerged from their own carriage and strode down the drive. Mrs. Seymour wore a bright smile, but Papa seemed quite morose, from which circumstance Selina inferred that he had lost at macao today as well.

  “Well, what do you think?” Grandmama boomed. Selina had never quite become accustomed to her deep, powerful voice.

  “It—it is very unusual,” Selina replied truthfully.