Cecilia Or Flight From A Shadow

by Catherine Bowness

  “I wish you would speak a civilised language,” the older woman retorted, turning a disagreeable face towards him. “For I cannot understand a word if you gabble away in that absurd fashion. Cannot you see what is required?”

  With another extended babble which caused the irritated lady to glare at him but decide to save her breath, the servant approached the window.

  Cecilia, who had picked up a smattering of several languages during the ten years she had been circumnavigating Europe, explained that neither she nor the Signora seemed to be able to shut the window.

  “Ah, Signorina,” the man said in his own language, a wide smile lightening his face, “it is indeed very stiff. Up here, in the Alps, we do not generally open the windows between October and March. I will do it at once.”

  Suiting the action to the words, he jerked the recalcitrant casement with one sharp, decided movement, possibly designed to take the window by surprise. In any event it worked, the casement closing without much protest. He latched it securely and drew the curtains across to minimise any draught that might still have dared to penetrate.

  “Now you will soon be warm,” he said with another smile. “Would you like me to bring a chair close to the fire for you, Signorina?”

  Cecilia was not sure it would be wise to accept this offer as both the resident women looked exceedingly unfriendly. With a faint shake of her head, she remained where she was while the older woman, with a heavy sigh, sat down again.

  The servant, maintaining a neutral expression, said kindly in his own language, “Il mio signore will make sure you lack for nothing, Signorina.”

  “He is very kind,” Cecilia murmured.

  The original occupants of the room sat down after expressing their opinion of the interloper with a sniff and a frown respectively. A moment later the door opened and the Earl entered, accompanied by the large, highly coloured middle-aged lady, another ravishing young one and a man whose looks, seen in the full light of several candles as well as the fire, caused Helen’s mouth to fall open.

  Endymion Moss was entering that phase of a man’s life when his beauty has very nearly reached its zenith. He was still boyishly slender, but his shoulders were broadening into full manhood, his legs were long and well-shaped, his neck graceful and his countenance altogether ravishing, with a high forehead, a straight high-bridged nose of ideal proportions, a bewitchingly formed mouth and a pair of eyes to melt the heart of the most icy maiden, even one as sour and despondent as Helen.

  She was perhaps too young and too inexperienced to get the full measure of his self-knowledge as he surveyed the two females sitting by the fire: the pursed-lipped, frowning older one and the stunned younger one. His smile was confident, perhaps a little too much so; it was the smile of a man who knows that his worth resides entirely in his person and is well aware that he must use his gifts as best he can, while he can, to procure as much as he can as an investment for the future. Everybody expects beautiful women to use their looks to acquire a fortune and nobody criticises them greatly for doing so. This is not at all the case for men although, if they find themselves with as little in the way of worldly goods and as much in the way of looks as Endymion Moss, it is difficult to see how they are to improve their fortunes if they are not to use what natural talents they have been vouchsafed.

  In any event, he took in at a glance the situation between the three persons who formed the Earl’s party: the urbane Earl, the fretful young woman and the withered chaperone, whose job was clearly to throw the other two together as much as possible whilst at the same time repelling any rivals. Endymion was perfectly aware that both his sisters presented as potential rivals, even the elder, whom he teased for her age but whom he recognised as being in fact the more beautiful of the two.

  For himself, he could see that the Earl was everything one would expect a well-breeched nobleman to be: his figure was excellent, his coat exquisitely cut, his hair styled in the height of fashion and his face unusually handsome; in sum, his whole person bore all the signs of a man accustomed to having the best of everything.

  It was not quite so easy to divine how much the young woman would bring: she had peculiar looks, wavering somewhere between extreme plainness and really almost other-worldly beauty; her dress was fashionable and tasteful, her hair neatly arranged but her manner had a touch of the angular about it, an unusual trait in an heiress; indeed, he rather suspected that she was on the look-out for a fortune quite as much as he but had less idea of how to present herself.

  “I have ordered chambers to be made ready for you,” the Earl said, addressing Cecilia. “As there are no other guests at present, I don’t think there will be the least difficulty in providing you with comfortable accommodation.”

  “No,” Cecilia said. “There is, however, a slight problem in that we are not just at present in a position of being able to settle the bill.”

  “Is it scudos you lack?” he asked. “I am sure I can find enough in my purse to tide you over your present embarrassment.”

  “That is excessively kind,” she replied, “but I am afraid it is more serious than that. In short, I cannot foresee a time when we would be able to repay you. We are almost at the end of our meagre resources, regardless of the currency.”

  As she spoke, the older lady tutted, pursed her lips and frowned; really, it would have been impossible for her to have found further means of displaying disapproval without uttering a word. Almost, Cecilia thought, one could hear the pursing and the frowning.

  The young lady on the other side of the fireplace also frowned but she neither pursed her lips nor tutted. She opened her mouth to speak but seemed to think better of it because she shut it again before any sound had escaped.

  “I am sorry to hear it,” the gentleman said quietly, no doubt noting the shabbiness of the newcomers’ apparel.

  “I will ...,” Cecilia said, “Excuse me,” and left the room precipitately.

  Anyone other than the members of her family, who were familiar with this behaviour, might have thought Cecilia was feeling unwell when she hurried out of the room. Endymion knew only too well what she was doing, and his heart sank at the prospect of whatever menial task he would be assigned for it was not the first time that Cecilia had offered her – and the rest of her family’s - services in the kitchen in exchange for a meal or a bed.

  He thought it a pity that his elder sister had felt it necessary to confess to their poverty even before she had sat down; he would have waited at least until he had eaten dinner, probably at the Earl’s expense if the admiration he read in the other man’s eyes was accurate. Indeed, there being such a dearth of servants, he would probably not have said anything at all but simply hustled his family out early the next morning. The only drawback to that method of avoiding opening the thin family purse was that they generally had to miss breakfast; proprietors had a disagreeable habit of presenting the bill along with the coffee.

  Cecilia found her way through a door at the back of the hall into a corridor which, judging from the smell of cooking, was leading in the right direction. Before she reached the kitchen, however, she bumped into the servant who had shut the window.

  “Signorina!” he exclaimed. “Are you lost? This is the way to the kitchen.”

  “I rather hoped it was,” she admitted. “The thing is, you see, that we have not enough money to pay for accommodation and I wondered if I might be able to defray our expenses by doing something useful in the kitchen.”

  “Signorina!” he repeated, horrified. “You cannot mean that! Such a gently bred young lady as you ...”

  “As a matter of fact, I am not in the least gently bred,” she said, smiling at him. “Neither of my parents was precisely Quality and many years have passed since we have been forced to make a living as best we can. I promise I am an excellent cook and scullery maid as well as being perfectly well able to make beds, sweep floors and so on. Is there someone I can speak to who will be able to tell me whether my request can be met?”
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  “Yes, Signorina, I will fetch Signora Valdini, who is the proprietress. Please wait here. I cannot take you into the kitchen.”

  Cecilia sat down on a decrepit chair in the small, chilly room into which he ushered her. It was some five minutes later that the door opened to admit an elderly female dressed from head to toe in black, who, in spite of her advanced age and diminutive stature, did not lack authority.

  Cecilia stood up.

  “Well, Signorina, so you have racked up to my establishment on a cold evening without sufficient funds to pay your shot,” this person began in intimidating tones. “Tell me why I should not send you away immediately.”

  “You have just given the reason yourself, Signora,” Cecilia replied. “It would be inhumane to turn us out in this weather. I am not alone.”

  “I know that. You have a mother, a brother and a sister. Will they all set to and do something to earn their board?”

  “I am sure they would, but I think it better if I do what is required.”

  The woman squared her small shoulders and said, “Your brother should be ashamed.”

  “Well, yes,” Cecilia agreed. “I have told him so countless times, but my words fall on deaf ears. I am grateful to him, though, for protecting us.”

  “Are you? From what does he protect you? Amorous gentlemen? You’re a pretty woman - would you not be better to allow a man to support you? It would surely be more comfortable than peeling potatoes or emptying chamberpots.”

  “In the short term, perhaps, although for my part I own I prefer the chamberpots to ministering to a spoiled gentleman. But it would be a short career – indeed, I am already a little too old to embark on such a course.”

  “You should find a husband,” the woman said, not unkindly.

  “I know, but they are not so easy to lay one’s hands upon at my age when one has no dowry.”

  “Very well,” the woman said, softening noticeably. “I tell you what I’ll do: I’ll allow you all to spend one night here – and eat your dinner – if you will do some mending for me – my sight is so poor now that it is difficult to thread the needle – and your mother and sister can make the beds and wash up the dishes after dinner. I’ll send your brother out to the stables. I’m short-staffed at the moment – can’t afford to pay ‘em if the truth be told. There’s that other party wanting a complicated dinner – I’ve had to slaughter several chickens.”

  “Would you like me to help gut and pluck them? I promise I have done so many times.”

  “I don’t doubt it, but, whatever your antecedents may have been, you seem gently bred and I’ll not have you doing anything menial. There are a number of sheets need turning sides to middle – you can do that.”

  “Then pray let my mama and sister do the sewing - they are both very good at it - and I will wash the dishes.”

  “I suppose they think they’re too good to wash dishes but don’t mind you doing it,” Signora Valdini said bluntly. “Very well. Your mother can do the mending, but I don’t see why your sister can’t turn her hand to the dishes. Will she consent to that, do you think, or is she already making eyes at il Conte? I don’t suppose she’ll be so nice about becoming a man’s mistress provided he spends enough on her!”

  “Is he a count?”

  “Yes: an English Earl. He’s a kind man – we’ve seen him before; he comes this way frequently – usually alone.”

  Cecilia said nothing in reply although she had already drawn the same conclusion about the man’s nature. She was not so pleased to learn of his rank because she feared that an English Earl might know a great deal too much about her family’s past. Even spending one night in the same inn might lead to all sorts of horrid repercussions. She wished they might all take refuge in the kitchen.

  “I suppose I’d better let you have a private saloon,” the proprietress said, noticing the anxiety which passed across the younger woman’s features. “Will you tell your sister what her duties are – or shall I?”

  “I beg you will allow her to do the mending with my mother, Signora. My little sister is – she needs to be protected and should not be asked to do anything too onerous or unpleasant.”

  “Indeed? What is the matter with her?”

  “We are not certain,” Cecilia admitted. “She had a bad accident some years ago – and has not altogether recovered.”

  “I see. Very well. Go and tell your mother and sister what is expected of them and then come back to the kitchen. If you know so much about gutting chickens, you had better do that, I suppose. There are a couple of ducks too.”

  “Thank you, Signora. It is very kind of you to take us in.”

  Cecilia allowed herself to be conducted to a small, rather grim little saloon some way down the corridor from the one where the Earl and his party were sitting.

  The servant, Ernesto, after lighting the fire and drawing the curtains against the night, volunteered to fetch the remaining members of her family. None of them looked happy when they arrived a few minutes later.

  “This is a horrid little room. I suppose they’ve only just lit the fire,” Mrs Moss said, frowning and placing her bulk in front of the flames so that nobody else could feel the warmth.

  “What have you offered in return for this?” Endymion asked suspiciously.

  “You’re to help in the stables so you had better go at once and see to our horses before they drop dead in their traces,” Cecilia told him.

  This was a task frequently assigned to the only man in the family, so he shrugged and went to the door obediently.

  “Why have we come in here?” Phyllis asked. “We were getting along so well with Lord Waldron. He seems to be a very kind gentleman.”

  “This is the room the Signora has chosen for us. You and Mama are to mend sheets while I help in the kitchen.”

  Phyllis nodded. She was perfectly accustomed to this sort of arrangement and sat down quietly in one of the chairs by the meagre fire to await her task.

  Chapter 4

  It was not long before Signora Valdini reappeared with a bundle of linen in her arms, which she distributed between Mrs Moss and her younger daughter.

  She nodded at Cecilia and left the room.

  “Why did you not leave us with Lord Waldron?” Mrs Moss asked in a low voice, beginning to unfold a sheet. “Phyllis was well on the way to captivating him – and those two sourpusses had their noses severely put out of joint.”

  “In that case, it is a very good thing she’s been taken away. He is related to those women and, if they take a dislike to Phyllis, they will not only make sure he has nothing more to do with her but also find some way to put a spoke in our wheels – and they will not have far to look.”

  Mrs Moss looked up with a sharp glance. “Those two females won’t know anything; probably never been to London or anywhere else.”

  “They have travelled some way to reach the Alps,” Cecilia pointed out. “It would be unwise to assume that a young woman and a sour-faced chaperone are as unworldly as you think. The preceptress will have her eyes on the main chance so far as the girl is concerned – and that, if I am not much mistaken, is the Earl.”

  “No doubt, but that doesn’t mean they’ll know much about Society – either of ‘em. I’m sure he knows everything there is to know, but he won’t care once he’s smitten with Phyllis.”

  “What in the world are you thinking, Mama? You surely don’t fool yourself that someone like Lord Waldron would marry Phyllis! Why, it would take him only a moment to find out about her antecedents – and even less to get the measure of her. I suppose he might take her on as his mistress - that’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it? But it wouldn’t last long. He’d very soon grow bored and, when he discarded her, everything would be much worse. No one would marry her after that.”

  “She will have to get as many diamonds and rubies out of him as she can while he’s keen,” Mrs Moss said flatly. “Then we can sell ‘em later.”

  Cecilia, who had heard this plan before
, said nothing for she knew from experience that it would be impossible to change her mother’s mind on her sister’s future.

  She could see that, at least in the short term, Phyllis would be more comfortable as a wealthy man’s mistress than trailing around in the company of her impoverished family, but she doubted whether the girl would be sensible enough to lay up the diamonds and rubies against lean times ahead. She probably wouldn’t even know their value and whether she would be prepared to hand them over to her mother for safekeeping was, Cecilia thought, debatable.

  She was young enough and certainly naïve enough to enjoy possessing a quantity of shiny baubles but was too heedless to have much idea about a future when she would no longer be either desirable or new. She was some ten years Cecilia’s junior and it was only in the last two or three that she had been old enough for anyone to consider such a career for her. Cecilia frequently found herself wishing that the accident which had damaged her sister’s intellect had spoiled her face instead. She would at least have been safe from predators – as well as from her mother’s ambitions.

  “You had your chances,” Mrs Moss reminded her elder daughter as though she believed it was jealousy which made Cecilia reluctant to allow her little sister to play the part of seductress. “Now it’s Phyllis’s turn.”

  “Unfortunately, yes. I just wish she – and you - could see that now – while she is still so young and innocent – is the time to find a husband. A career as someone’s bit of fluff is – should be – the last resort, particularly for someone like Phyllis.”

  “Well, of course I would rather she married,” Mrs Moss acknowledged. “It’s a more permanent solution. If Waldron falls in love with her, he might be persuaded to marry her.”

  Cecilia greeted this suggestion with contempt. “Even before we were cast out from Society, there would have been no chance that such a man would consider someone like her,” she said bluntly.

  “I do not see why he would not,” her mother returned. “When men fall in love they will do anything to get what they want.”