The countess waited, then when her daughter did not reply, rose abruptly to her feet. She looked in the cheval glass, one hand playing with the strands of pearls around her neck. “Well, luckily you have a mother who loves you and wants the best for you.” She glanced at Charlotte. “I have the perfect solution. Young Blanchford.”
Charlotte frowned, unable to think who her mother meant. Then her eyes widened as she remembered. “You can’t possibly mean that babe in arms who has only just left Eton? Why, mother, he doesn’t even shave yet!” She laughed. “Do you take me for a cradle snatcher?”
Her mother shrugged. She turned this way and that, to admire the flow of her gown in the glass. “Say what you like, he has a very comfortable fortune and will inherit the title. Everyone knows his father is on death’s doorstep.”
“That’s something, but he needs a nursemaid, not a wife.” Charlotte shook her head again, dimpling a smile as she fastened her necklace. “Besides, you’re not terribly well informed. He and Lady Helen Fairfax are an acknowledged item.”
“They were,” said the countess.
Charlotte stopped fiddling with her jewelry and turned around in her seat to look her mother in the face. The countess’s smug smile told her that she was serious. “I don’t understand you. They were so very much in love. Nothing would have separated them.” Charlotte was surprised at the anxiety she felt.
“Oh, a word in the right ear at the right time,” the countess said, waving a hand.
“Do you mean to tell me that you engineered their separation?”
“You put it so bluntly. The important thing is that young Blanchford is now available.”
Charlotte breathed out sharply. A headache had begun to pulse. She spoke quickly, without looking at her mother: “Well, I think that is disgraceful. And I certainly will have nothing to do with Blanchford. The whole thing is unpleasant, Mother.”
“Hah!” The countess laughed in a mixture of surprise and anger. “You are a fine one to talk, my little schemer.”
Charlotte paled, all of her anger and humiliation rising to the surface. She would never stoop so low as this—she, at least, had enough pride to meddle only with people who would do the same to her without a second thought.
“They might have been left in peace,” she said furiously. “It was their first love affair and they might have been happy, had you not come along.”
The countess tutted dismissively. “Nonsense, they’ll get over it. You’ll have Blanchford, and be grateful. He will be at the wedding and you can secure him then. He was simply overwhelmed by you in your Firebird gown, the poor boy, and besides, weddings are such delightfully romantic occasions. Every single man there thinks naturally of the moment when he will find a sweet companion to share his life.”
“Delightfully romantic indeed, with the two parties’ solicitors picking over the contract in the wings!” Charlotte laughed sarcastically as the countess moved to the door, her gold chiffon evening gown sweeping and catching the sunset rays.
The countess turned at the door to add, “By the way, I’m a little concerned that you gave Ward notice so brusquely.”
“She deserved it,” Charlotte snapped defensively.
“I’m sure she did, but there are more…sensitive ways to handle these things.” The countess opened the door. “Don’t be late for dinner. Lord Westlake has asked Sanders to open the ’98 Dom Pérignon now that Ada and Laurence’s union is official.”
The door snicked shut behind her, and Charlotte was, finally, alone. She took two or three deep breaths to calm herself, and reached for her scent bottle. The odor of violets always calmed her. But the crystal bottle was empty.
Charlotte started to her feet and went to the bell. She placed her thumb on it and kept it there. After a couple of moments she heard running footsteps in the corridor. The door opened, and Annie stood there, breathless, nervous, and looking as if she had been asleep.
“You rang, miss—” She ducked as the scent bottle flew over her head and shattered against the wall.
Charlotte took a couple of deep breaths. The sight of her maid cowering calmed her. “My scent bottle was empty,” she said coldly. “Your job, you stupid girl, is to keep it filled. What am I to do with you?”
Annie, still crouching on the floor, whimpered an apology.
“Get up,” Charlotte told her. “You have one more chance. If you disappoint me again, you can find a new job. Now, get out of here, find a broom, and sweep that up.”
Annie, curtsying and trembling, scurried away.
Charlotte turned away, breathing more slowly, her rage subsiding. In its place, as if it were a sea receding, was left a bleak despair. She contemplated her array of scent bottles and cases for jewels, fans, and gloves, all lined up before the mirror. They were her army, a glittering, velvet-lined, musk-scented army. And this season, they had all been roundly defeated.
But Charlotte still had her greatest weapon. And she could not wait one single moment longer to use it. After so many defeats, she needed a victory.
She rose and crossed to the secretaire in the corner of the room. She opened it and drew out a letter she had begun a long time ago. She smoothed the paper and reread the words she had written.
Dear Sir, she read, feeling her breathing already calmed. She had forgotten entirely about Annie’s failings. I think you will be interested to know the full details of Lady Ada Averley’s relationship with a young Indian student, Ravi Sundaresan, which began in the Spring of 1912.…
A small smile crossed Charlotte’s lips as she leaned over the paper to finish the letter.
In the privacy of the broom cupboard, Annie released the tears that had been building up. No one had ever thrown anything at her before, though she had heard much worse tales from other maids, and she knew that if you wanted the reference, there was nothing to do but grin and bear it. But from Miss Templeton—her Miss Templeton, who had been so kind, so considerate, who had dismissed her own maid in order to employ her—she had never expected such a thing. She had only drifted off to sleep for just a second—the journey from London had been so tiring, what with keeping track of all Miss Charlotte’s luggage—and running into town to buy new scent had just slipped her mind.
Annie felt a hand on her shoulder and turned with a gasp to see Céline.
“Ma petite, what is the matter?” Céline asked, concern in her voice.
Annie sobbed out an explanation. “I only just forgot the scent. There’s so much to remember in this job. I wish she had never given me this chance, I do. I never thought she could be so unkind.” Annie sniffed.
Céline’s expression was sympathetic. “This is a hard life,” she said gently. “Even with the best mistress in the world. And Miss Templeton is not the best mistress in the world.”
“But she was so kind before, so nice—” Annie sobbed.
“I do not like to say it, but I am almost sure that she engaged you because she knew she could encourage you to make trouble for Lady Rose.”
Céline sniffed wordlessly. Rose would never throw anything at me, she thought. Never, ever.
“But where am I to get more scent this time of night?” Annie was on the brink of sobbing again.
“Is it Nuit de Violettes?”
Annie nodded.
“I’ll fetch you some from Lady Rose’s bottle,” Céline said. “She won’t mind—won’t even notice, I shouldn’t think.”
“Will you?” Annie managed a smile. “Thank you so much. You’re kind.”
“We servants have to stick together, isn’t that the English expression?” Céline smiled back as she handed Annie the dustpan and brush.
Annie watched her go, her heart full of grateful warmth. Yes, she thought, yes we do—and she remembered Priya saying something very similar. Annie hadn’t seen Priya since they had arrived back at Somerton, and for some reason that troubled her. Things were clearly going to be very different under Mrs. McRory; and though she had barely had a moment to speak to her
old work-mates, she could sense already that the mood in the house was different altogether than it had been under Mrs. Cliffe. Everyone seemed tense and unhappy.
“Not long now, my lady,” Céline said encouragingly, as she tried the veil on Ada before the mirror. It was a waterfall of fine silk tulle embroidered with delicate rose-gold orange blossoms.
Ada, staying obediently still at the heart of a web of tacking thread and pins, managed a smile. The invitations—mostly to people she had never met—had been sent out, and cordial acceptances received. Wedding gifts were flooding in; she already had more silver candlesticks than she knew what to do with, and her new monogram was on more things than she had thought possible. Somerton was full of the scent of orange blossom and roses, the frantic footsteps of the maids rushing to prepare the guest rooms, the butler’s cloth squeaking over the silver as it was polished within an inch of its life, the landau—so rarely used now that motorcars had taken over most of the stables—being cleaned and polished, the chandeliers being dusted and redusted, and all kinds of delicacies being prepared in the kitchen.
But what made all feel so terribly real was the clipping from The Times that was slipped into the corner of her mirror. Her gaze returned to it again and again.
Engagements. 21st August. Lady Ada, eldest daughter of the Earl of Westlake, to Laurence, Lord Fintan. Ceremony at St. Anne’s, Palesbury.
The twenty-first of August. A mere week to go.
“It’s perfect, my lady,” murmured Céline, still looking at the veil.
“Yes,” Ada said, and her voice sounded small and tired. “It’s perfect.”
Was Ravi already in London? She thought he must be. Was he thinking about her? Or was he too busy? Did he want to meet merely out of nostalgia? Had he seen the announcement in The Times? Would he be waiting for her under the great clock as she said her vows? She wished her head did not ache so much. Lately it had been hard to sleep.
In the mirror she could see the bridesmaids being fitted behind her, Gertrude, Cynthia, Rose, Emily, Charlotte, and Georgiana rising like Venuses from a sea of tulle and chiffon. She glanced at Rose, who had been quite silent so far, her chin raised high as Sarah finished some last stitching at the neck of her gown. The uncomfortable position was an excuse for silence, but Ada wondered if something more was troubling her. Ada knew that Rose had heard nothing from the Duke of Huntleigh since the ball.
“Ada, have you heard?” Georgiana turned to her, almost tripping on the trailing satin hem of her dress. “The Illustrated London News is saying you have diamond clasps to your corset! It’s not true, is it?”
Ada had to laugh, though she blushed as well. “Of course not. How can they print such vulgarities!” It was extraordinary, she thought, how much attention her forthcoming wedding had attracted. “I don’t understand why they think people will want to read every last detail of my trousseau.”
“But of course they will.” Emily turned this way and that, admiring the fall of ivory chiffon. Gold net glinted beneath, muting the sheen of pink satin. “You are the Earl of Westlake’s daughter, and my brother is a lord. It’s a real-life fairy tale.”
Ada’s smile was forced. And it ends on the stroke of twelve, she thought. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see not Laurence standing at the altar but Ravi standing under a clock in the midst of a busy train station. Standing there where she had kissed him good-bye…
“This is the most beautiful dress I’ve ever worn.” Georgiana spun on the spot, billowing waves of cloth floating from her. “I’m so pleased you have taste, and don’t want to make your bridesmaids look as they’re dying of consumption, as some brides seem to.”
Ada laughed. “Of course I don’t. It’s the start of your coming out, and I want everyone to see how beautiful you are.”
“I wonder who the next of us to get married will be,” Emily said, meeting Ada’s eyes in the mirror.
“You, perhaps.”
“I don’t think so.” Emily’s laugh was light as snow. “I’m married to the cause. I thought Charlotte would have had a proposal this season.…” She turned a sly glance toward Charlotte, who kept her smile fixed. “But perhaps Lady Rose will be next at the altar?” she murmured.
Rose gave a quick gasp of pain.
“I’m so sorry, madam!” Sarah exclaimed.
“No, it was my fault—I shouldn’t have moved.” A drop of blood welled on Rose’s shoulder, and Sarah moved swiftly to dab it away and keep it from staining the material.
“You had such a triumph at Mrs. Verulam’s ball,” Emily continued. “We’re all awaiting the outcome with bated breath.”
Georgiana was listening, eyes wide. “What has happened? Rose, are you engaged?”
“I—” Rose blushed.
“Oh, Rose, tell me!” Georgiana fairly bounced up and down while Annie desperately tried to hold her dress in place. “You’ve had a proposal and you never let me know? You are mean!”
“Don’t tease her,” said Ada anxiously.
“I hardly know how you can bear to wear rhinestones after experiencing the real thing,” Gertrude said. “It was such a very particular attention the Duke of Huntleigh paid to you. I’m sure he has proposed, and you are simply being modest in not telling us.”
Ada opened her mouth to try changing the subject, but Lady Cynthia stepped in. “Come now, Rose—you can tell us. After all, we are all bridesmaids together—it makes us practically sisters.” She raised her head like a snake about to strike.
“Did the duke propose to you?” Emily’s voice stabbed again. “He must have done, of course.…”
“Certainly the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about,” murmured Lady Gertrude.
Rose could no longer avoid their eyes. She looked down, and Ada ached as she saw the hunted expression on Rose’s face. Ada knew then that she had been right, that Alexander Ross had merely been trifling, and she wished desperately that she could protect Rose. But there was no protecting her now. If he didn’t propose, her reputation would be ruined.
A piercing shriek from the upper stories interrupted her. The maids started, Charlotte and Georgiana exclaimed, and Emily swung around in the direction of the noise, looking astonished.
“Goodness, what was—” Ada’s words were drowned out by more shrieks, crashes, bangs, howling. She looked around at the others, but the ladies and their maids all met her gaze with equal mystification.
“Can the kitchen cat have got in with Lady Edith’s pugs?” Georgiana said, clutching her dress together, looked around.
“It doesn’t sound like the cat, my lady,” Céline murmured.
Ada listened, and this time could make out distinct voices, shouting at each other. One was Augustus, and she could tell he was in the throes of a tantrum. The other was Lady Edith, in no less of a state.
“It sounds as if someone is being murdered. How many more valets have the Averleys to lose?” Emily murmured, with a look on her face as if she had smelled something bad.
Ada found herself furious. How dare Edith embarrass her in front of her soon-to-be sister-in-law? “I must go up at once,” she said, hurrying to the door.
“I shall come,” Georgiana followed her. “I don’t understand it,” she added in an undertone as Rose joined her. “We haven’t had such a scene ever since Priya arrived.”
“Oh, do let us join the party,” Lady Cynthia exclaimed, following them. “I’m dying to see what can have caused such a noise.”
Ada hurried up the stairs, followed by the other ladies, trying to hide her annoyance at Cynthia and Gertrude’s obvious desire to witness a scene. As she went up flight after flight, the voices grew louder and clearer. Augustus was in the midst of a tantrum, in which only the words No! and Mine! could be discerned, and Lady Edith was ranging up the full chromatic scale from “Darling, darling, calm yourself! Toodles, my sweet pet!” to “Your father will whip you for this, see if he doesn’t, spawn of Satan!” Ada reached the nursery corridor to find two maids cowering j
ust outside the door, which was ajar. They hastily turned to the wall as Ada approached.
“Lady Edith, what is the matter?” Ada demanded, opening the door fully. She gasped as she saw a scene of devastation: the rocking horse shattered beyond repair, Augustus writhing on the hearthrug, and spilled food and broken china everywhere. Lady Edith was stretched out in the rocking chair, her smelling salts pressed to her nose, murmuring faintly about the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
“The poor boy… Evil spirits must have corrupted him.…” Edith wept.
“But where is Priya?” Georgiana exclaimed.
“Well may you ask!” Lady Edith revived enough to say indignantly. “That dreadful woman, the pygmy—”
“Mrs. McRory?”
“Yes, she has sent Priya away without notice!”
“But why on earth!” Ada exclaimed. “Whatever she has done, it cannot merit this.”
“No, how am I to manage?” Lady Edith began to weep again. “None of the maids can handle him like dear Priya could. She had some magical way about her. And good nursemaids are not to be found nowadays, not without paying a most outrageous price—”
Ada left her without another word. Closing the door on the scene of devastation, she paused and spoke to the closest maid, Sarah. “Have you any idea why Priya has been given notice? It seems extraordinary. I understood she was more than satisfactory.”
The maids glanced at each other uncomfortably.
“I think Mrs. McRory is the best person to explain, my lady,” Sarah murmured at last.
“I see!” Ada did not see at all; the mystery thickened. Mrs. McRory had acted beyond her authority, and if the housemaids were refusing to tell her what was going on…
“Well, I don’t!” Georgiana exclaimed angrily. “How dare she intrude into the realm of the nursery? She knows very well that Priya reports directly to Lady Edith and Sir William. I shall speak to her at once. See that Lady Edith is brought some strong tea and smelling salts immediately,” she said to Sarah, and marched toward the stairs.
Diamonds and Deceit (At Somerton) Page 20
