The Mysterious Maid-Servant

by Barbara Cartland

  When he was not talking to her, she would sit quietly reading in a corner of the room and make no effort to thrust herself into prominence or attract his attention.

  It was a new experience for the Earl to be with a woman who not only made no effort to flirt with him but who seemed perfectly content to be anonymous, except when he required her services.

  He was used to being with women who used every wile in the female repertoire to focus his attention upon themselves. Who looked at him with an invitation in their eyes and challenged him with a provocative twist to their lips.

  Giselda was as natural in her behaviour as if he was her brother or – sobering thought – her father, and she talked to him frankly on every subject except herself.

  ‘I will find out what is behind all this if it is the last thing I do,’ the Earl vowed.

  At that moment the door opened and a man put his head round it.

  “Are you awake?” a deep voice said.

  The Earl turned to look at the intruder.

  “Fitz!” he exclaimed. “Come in! I am delighted to see you!”

  “I hoped you would be,” Colonel Berkeley said, entering the room,

  He seemed, with his height and his broad shoulders, almost overpowering to the Earl who must regard him from the bed.

  “Dammit, Fitz!” he exclaimed. “You look disgustingly and outrageously healthy! How are your horses?”

  “Waiting for you to ride them,” Colonel Berkeley replied. “I now have sixty top-notchers, Talbot, which I intend to put at the disposal of anyone who wishes to hunt them this season – and you can have first pick.”

  “It certainly is an inducement to get well quickly,” the Earl said.

  “You are better?”

  “Very much better. Newell is a good man.”

  “I told you he was.”

  “You were absolutely right, and I am extremely thankful that I took your advice and came to Cheltenham.”

  “That is what I wanted you to say,” Colonel Berkeley smiled. “As I have told you before, this town is unique!”

  There was a pride in his voice that was unmistakable and the Earl laughed.

  “How soon are you going to re-christen it ‘Berkeleyville’? That is what it ought to be named.”

  “I have thought of it,” Colonel Berkeley replied, “but since Cheltenham is of Saxon origin it might be a mistake to change it.”

  “Why are you here? I thought it was impossible for you to leave the Castle.”

  “I have called a meeting to plan the Duke of Wellington’s reception. You have heard that he is coming here!”

  “Yes, I have been told so. It is true?”

  “Of course it’s true! Where else would the ‘Iron Duke’s physicians send him but to Cheltenham?”

  “Where indeed?” the Earl asked mockingly.

  “He is staying with Riddell at Cambray Cottage, which is to be re-christened ‘Wellington Mansion’, and naturally I shall ask him to open the new Assembly Rooms, plant an oak tree and attend the theatre.”

  “In fact a riot of fun and gaiety!” the Earl smiled cynically.

  “Good God, I cannot suggest much else,” Colonel Berkeley replied. “He is bringing his Duchess with him!”

  “So everyone will have to be on their best behaviour.”

  “Of course – except for me. You have never known me to be anything but outrageous.”

  “That is true,” the Earl said, “and what, Fitz, are you up to now?”

  “I have found the most fascinating woman,” Colonel Berkeley said, seating himself on the side of the bed, the brilliant polish on his hessian boots reflecting the sunshine coming in through the windows.

  “Another? Who is she?”

  “Her name is Maria Foote,” Colonel Berkeley replied. “She is an actress and I met her last year when I performed at the theatre in her benefit.”

  “What happened outside the theatre?” the Earl asked.

  “She was for a short time somewhat elusive,” Colonel Berkeley replied.

  “But now – ?”

  “I have set her up in one of my other cottages.”

  The Earl laughed.

  “How many more have you got, Fitz?”

  “Quite a number, but Maria and I are extremely happy. She is beautiful, Talbot, really beautiful, and you must meet her as soon as you are well enough.”

  “Then you are not staying here?” the Earl enquired. “No. I shall be with Maria tonight and I must return to the Castle tomorrow, but I shall be back at the end of the week. You are not bored?”

  “No, I am not bored,” the Earl said truthfully, “and Newell hopes that I shall be up in a week or so.”

  “You must come to the opening of the Assembly Rooms,” Colonel Berkeley suggested.

  He did not miss the grimace that the Earl made and laughed.

  “I will let you off if you will come and see me act at the theatre with my own cast in a new piece I know you will find amusing. It has been written by a young man of whom I have high hopes.”

  The Earl was well aware that amongst his many other activities Colonel Berkeley enjoyed acting.

  He had his own company of amateur performers and every month or so they performed at the Theatre Royal to an audience who came not only to enjoy the play, but also to gaze awe-struck at the Colonel himself whose wild and profligate behaviour fascinated them.

  However, the Colonel found that amateur theatricals did not satisfy him or his acting talents. Undaunted, he arranged to act his favourite parts with famous players like John Kemble and Mrs. Siddons who made their way to Cheltenham from London, lured by the large fees on offer and the guarantee of an audience full of his distinguished friends.

  Although this satisfied his thespian aspirations, his association with them damaged his reputation even further, as even the best actors were looked down on as being feckless and immoral by polite society.

  “I shall be delighted to come and applaud,” the Earl replied. “What is this masterpiece called?”

  “It is entitled ‘The Villain Unmasked’,” Colonel Berkeley replied. “Is that dramatic enough for you?”

  “And you are the hero?”

  “No, of course not! I am the villain. What other part would I play when the plot concerns the ravishing of a young and beautiful girl?”

  The Earl threw back his head and laughed.

  “Fitz! You are incorrigible! As if people don’t talk enough about you already.”

  “I like them talking. It brings them to Cheltenham, it makes them spend their money, and it justifies my contention that the town is far too small. We must build new houses, larger public buildings and lay out more avenues.”

  Building was the Colonel’s other pet hobby horse and he talked about it for some time, telling the Earl of his plans to make Cheltenham ‘The Queen of Watering Places’.

  “Have you heard the latest jingle about the town?” he asked.

  “Which one?”

  Rising to his feet the Colonel recited with fervour –

  “Men of every class and order,

  All the genera and species,

  Dukes with aides-de-camp in leashes,

  Marquises in tandem traces,

  Lords in couples, Counts in pairs, Coveys of their spendthrift heir –”

  “Very appropriate!” the Earl interjected dryly.

  “There is a lot more, but I will not bore you with it,” the Colonel said, “except that one line ends with ‘flocks of charmers’! That’s certainly true!”

  Inevitably, the Earl thought, the Colonel’s conversation got back to women and after expounding somewhat crudely on ‘the charmers’ in the town, he said,

  “Actually, I saw a rather attractive girl leaving here just as I arrived. I asked the butler who she was and he informed me that she was your nurse.”

  The Earl did not reply and the Colonel said with undisguised interest,

  “Come on, Talbot, you old fox! Since when have you required a female nur
se? Or is that only a polite name for it?”

  “It happens to be the truth. Batley means well, but he is heavy-handed and quite by chance I found Giselda, who had some experience of bandaging. Even Newell congratulated her.”

  “And what else is she good at?” Colonel Berkeley asked, an innuendo in the words.

  The Earl shook his head.

  “Nothing like that. She is a lady, although I understand that her family has fallen on hard times.”

  “I thought she looked attractive – although I only had a quick glimpse of her,” the Colonel sighed reflectively.

  “Hands off, Fitz!” the Earl said firmly.

  “Of course – if she is your property,” Colonel Berkeley said. “But I am surprised. I remember your lecturing me once and saying you did not amuse yourself with your own servants or anyone else’s.”

  “That is still true,” the Earl answered, “and I certainly would not allow you to amuse yourself with mine!”

  “Is that a challenge?” Colonel Berkeley enquired with a sudden glint in his eyes.

  “Try it and I will knock your head off,” the Earl retorted. “I may be a cripple at the moment, but you know as well as I do, Fitz, that we are pretty well matched when it comes to fisticuffs and once I am fit again – ”

  He paused and then laughed.

  “We are being far too damned serious over this, but leave Giselda alone. She has never met anyone like you and I don’t want her spoilt.”

  He was well aware that the Colonel found it impossible to resist a pretty face wherever he found it.

  At the same time because they were such old friends he knew, or at least he thought he knew, that Giselda would be safe as long as she was under his care.

  But Colonel Berkeley’s way with women was too notorious not to leave the Earl with a feeling of unease.

  He had in fact until this moment not thought of Giselda as being desirable or indeed in the category of a woman who must be pursued, as sportsmen like the Colonel pursued a fox.

  But now he realised that she had a grace that made her figure, thin though it was, an undeniable enticement and that her big eyes filling her small, pale face were beautiful rather differently from the way he had interpreted beauty in the past.

  All his women had been, he thought, like full-grown roses, big-breasted, seductive and voluptuous. In contrast Giselda was the exact opposite.

  It was perhaps her reserve that had made him not consider her as a woman to be seduced and conquered – until Colonel Berkeley had put the idea into his mind.

  And yet now the Earl found himself thinking of her in a very different way from how he had thought of her before.

  For the first time he wondered if it was right that she should walk through the town by herself without an attendant of some sort.

  Behaviour was far more free and easy in Cheltenham than in London but, even so, he had the idea that a girl of Giselda’s age, if she was shopping or attending the Spa to drink the waters, should be accompanied if not by a chaperone, at least by an Abigail or a footman.

  Then he told himself he was being ridiculous.

  Giselda, about whom he still was in ignorance, was still a servant. He paid her as he paid Batley, and the hundreds of servants that he employed at Lynd Park, his countryseat in Oxfordshire.

  He wondered whether, when he was well enough to return home, Giselda would go with him and he was almost sure without asking her that she would refuse.

  Once again he found it frustrating to realise how little he knew of her.

  How could her family be so poor? And why did she never talk about her mother or her small brother?

  “It is unnatural,” the Earl thought savagely and once again he was determined to force the information from her lips.

  Giselda returned an hour later and the Earl, despite his resolution to do nothing of the sort, had been watching the clock.

  “You have been a hell of a time,” he growled as she came into the bedroom.

  “The shops are crowded,” she said, “especially the Williams Library.”

  She gave a little laugh.

  “I wish you could have seen the people all queuing to get on the weighing-machine.”

  “The weighing-machine ?” the Earl queried.

  “Yes, all the celebrities – in fact everyone who comes to Cheltenham – try out the weighing-machine. Those who are fat hope that the waters will make them slim and those who are thin are convinced that they will put on weight.”

  “Did you weigh yourself?” the Earl enquired.

  “I would not waste my penny on such nonsense!”

  “I am sure you would find that your weight is very different from what it was a week ago.”

  Giselda smiled.

  “I admit to having to let out the waist of my gowns at least an inch,” she answered, “but I know, because you continually say so, that you think I am just a bag of bones and you hate thin women.”

  ‘She may be thin,’ the Earl thought looking at her critically, ‘but her figure is exquisite, like that of a young Goddess.’

  Then he told himself he was being a poetic fool.

  It was only Fitz Berkeley who had put such ideas into his head, and he had been right in saying that the Earl had never concerned himself from an amatory point of view with a servant – and he did not intend to do so now.

  “Here are your books,” Giselda was saying, setting them down beside him. “I am sure they will please you, at least I hope so, but quite frankly I chose those I want to read myself.”

  “For which, I suppose, I should be grateful.”

  “I can always change them.”

  She turned towards the door.

  “Where are you going?” the Earl asked.

  “To take off my bonnet and wash my hands. When I come back, I will read you the newspaper if your Lordship is too lazy to read it for yourself!”

  “You will do what I tell you to do,” the Earl asserted sharply.

  But the door had shut behind her and he was not certain if she had heard his last remark.

  *

  The following day Giselda was late in arriving, which in itself was unusual. What was more, as soon as she appeared, the Earl was aware that something untoward had occurred.

  He was by now used to her smile first thing in the morning, to the lilt of her voice and the manner in which without being impertinent she would answer him back and could usually tease him into a good humour.

  But this morning she was very pale and there was a darkness in her eyes that the Earl knew meant she was worried.

  She dressed his leg in silence and when she had finished, she tidied the pillows and took the discarded bandages from the room.

  The Earl had already been shaved and washed by Batley before Giselda arrived.

  Batley also made the bed either with the housekeeper or one of the housemaids, so that when Giselda came back to the Earl no one was likely to intrude and she was alone with him.

  Because he had grown used to watching the expressions on her face and had become unusually perceptive where she was concerned, he was aware that she had something to say to him but was wise enough not to ask questions.

  He merely watched her as she moved restlessly about the room, tidying things that had already been tidied, patting up the cushions in one of the armchairs and rearranging the vase of roses that stood on a side table.

  Finally, she came towards the bed and the Earl knew that she had made up her mind to speak.

  He thought that because something was upsetting her, her cheekbones once again seemed very prominent and he had the idea that her hands were trembling a little as she drew nearer to him.

  “I want – to ask you – something,” she began in a low voice.

  “What is it?” he enquired.

  “I do not – know how to put it into – words.”

  “I can be understanding if necessary.”

  “I know that,” she answered. “Batley has told me how everyone in your Reg
iment came to you with their – problems, and how you always – solved them.”

  “Then let me solve yours.”

  “Y-you may – think it very – strange – ”

  “I cannot answer that until you tell me what it is.”

  She stood silent by his bedside and now he could sense the agitation within her so that with difficulty he forced himself to wait.

  Finally she said in a very low voice,

  “I have – heard, and I don’t think I am mistaken, that there are g-gentlemen who will pay large sums of money for a girl who is – p-pure. I want, no, I must have – fifty pounds immediately – and I thought perhaps you could find me – someone to give me that – amount.”

  The Earl was stunned into silence.

  Then, as Giselda did not look at him and her eyelashes were dark against her pale cheeks, he exclaimed,

  “Good God! Do you know what you are saying? And if you want fifty pounds – ”

  Just for a moment she looked at him, then she turned sharply on her heel and walked towards the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I – th-thought you would understand – ”

  She had almost left the room as the Earl roared,

  “Come here! Do you hear me? Come here immediately!”

  He thought she was about to refuse him. Then, as if the command in his voice compelled her, she very slowly closed the door again and came towards the bed.

  “Let me understand this quite clearly,” the Earl said. “You want fifty pounds, but you will not accept it from me?”

  “You know I will not take money – unless I can give something in – return,” Giselda said fiercely.

  The Earl was about to argue, but he knew it would be useless.

  He was well aware that Giselda’s pride was so much a part of her whole character that, if he persisted in thrusting his money upon her, she was quite likely to walk out of his life and he would never see her again.

  Diplomatically he played for time.

  “Forgive me, Giselda, you took me by surprise. I understand your feelings in this matter, but have you really considered what you are suggesting?”

  “I have – considered it,” Giselda said, “and it is the only – solution I can find. I thought perhaps it would be easy for you to find – someone who would – pay for what I can – offer him.”