Cecilia Or Flight From A Shadow

by Catherine Bowness

  She read it twice and folded it up.

  “He hopes we will meet again in Switzerland,” she told Hannah for there was no one else who would be in the least interested in such news.

  Hannah responded just as she should. “Oh, Miss, he was quite taken with you, was he not?”

  “Apparently, in spite of the fact that I was monstrously uncivil and constantly jumping up and down while we were eating our dinner.”

  “I expect that made him all the keener, Miss. He may have thought he had a rival.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “Oh yes, Miss. Gentlemen always get keen when they think you may like someone else better.”

  “Where would there be anyone else on the top of a mountain?” Helen asked idly.

  “Well, there’s that Mr Moss,” Hannah said slyly.

  “He – he is not … I don’t think he would care for me.”

  “I don’t see why not. He’s a man, you’re a young woman.”

  “Yes, but he’s so – I don’t think I am precisely the sort of woman in whom he would be interested,” Helen said flatly.

  “Don’t you be putting yourself down, Miss,” Hannah advised. “I expect you think he looks like a hero from a storybook – and he does – but he’s just an ordinary man in spite of that. What do you think those young women have done with the dresses you lent them? I don’t think they’ve got a maid.”

  “I gave them to them last night. Do you think that was foolish?”

  “No, Miss, I think it was ever so kind of you. I’ll wager they were grateful.”

  “Yes, they were. Miss Godmanton did not approve.”

  “Oh, well, I wouldn’t let that upset you, Miss. She’s an old-fashioned lady – probably thinks they don’t deserve to have pretty dresses.”

  Helen said nothing because, although she wanted to complain about her chaperone to a person she suspected would be a willing listener, she did not think it proper to speak about someone in Miss Godmanton’s position – hovering uncertainly between the gentry and the servants – to a maid.

  “Shall I fetch some hot water now, Miss?” Hannah asked, seeing that her mistress looked a little more lively.

  “Yes, I suppose you had better.”

  Chapter 26

  By the time she went downstairs, the doctor had arrived and was reported to be examining the coachman under the watchful eye of Mr Moss.

  Mrs Moss was still eating breakfast rather in the manner of a person who believes it essential to feed an engine if it is to keep on working. Her daughters had finished but were still at the table with cups of coffee, as was the Earl. There was no sign of Miss Godmanton.

  “Oh, there you are, Helen,” Waldron said, rising when she came in and setting a chair for her. “Have you seen your preceptress this morning?”

  “No. I suppose she is sleeping late. I did not wake until after nine.”

  “I think someone should knock upon her door,” he said, “because, now that the doctor has been, we can probably be on our way quite soon. We do not want to lose all the daylight sitting around doing nothing.”

  “I could send Hannah,” Helen offered in a dull voice.

  “You could,” her cousin agreed, “but she would no doubt appreciate a visit from you.”

  As he spoke, he was pouring her a cup of coffee.

  “I should think I would be the last person she would like to see,” Helen replied. “We quarrelled last night, as a consequence of which I woke with the headache and she seems not to have woken at all.”

  “Very well. I will ring for Hannah. May I enquire what you disagreed over?”

  “You may, but I don’t think I can divulge it just at present,” she said, regretting that she had raised the matter at all.

  Cecilia, divining that the argument might have had something to do with her, finished her coffee and took her sister’s arm, suggesting that they go upstairs to complete their packing.

  “Come, Mama,” she said, offering her other arm to her mother.

  “I haven’t finished my breakfast,” Mrs Moss said.

  “No, but, judging from your expression, you are not enjoying it a great deal,” Cecilia said. “I am afraid that, if you force yourself to eat, you may feel unwell as we travel.”

  “No, I won’t. I believe there was something in last night’s dinner which disagreed with me.”

  “If you had what we had downstairs,” Cecilia told her, “I cannot think there was anything to upset you; it was more likely the brandy.”

  “Something bad in that, you think?” Mrs Moss asked. “I’ve never heard of anything like that before.”

  “No, because it’s extremely unlikely. What was wrong with the brandy was that you drank a deal too much of it. Come, Mama, pray exercise a little tact for once and let his lordship speak to his cousin by himself.”

  “What? Oh!” Mrs Moss finally understanding, she lumbered obediently to her feet and followed her daughters out of the room.

  “What was the difficulty between you and Miss Godmanton? I know – I have observed that you don’t always see quite eye to eye,” the Earl said as the door closed behind the Mosses.

  “She told me off for giving my gowns to Miss Moss and her sister,” Helen said. “And she added something exceedingly rude about them.”

  “About the gowns or the recipients?”

  “The recipients. She – she seemed to think they would end in a – as …” Helen’s voice trailed off.

  He smiled, not apparently in the least shocked, and said, “And you defended their reputations? How charitable – and admirable!”

  “Yes; was that foolish of me? And then I am afraid I said something rude to her – and – and she – she slapped my face!”

  Now he was shocked; gratifyingly so.

  “Good God! I’m not surprised she didn’t dare come down! What in the world did you say?”

  Too late, Helen realised that she should never have embarked on confiding in her cousin. She became very red in the face, opened and shut her mouth several times and finally said, “I asked her how much my mother was prepared to pay if she succeeded in getting you to offer for me.”

  Lord Waldron’s eyes opened wide for a moment before he burst into laughter.

  “Well, that’s why I’ve been sent out here, isn’t it?” she asked, still red-faced.

  “Almost certainly, but I can’t conceive how my aunt can suppose that I would be subject to Miss Godmanton’s influence.”

  “No, except I suppose that, when one has spent a prolonged period in her company, one might be prepared to do almost anything to be able to dispense with her,” Helen said.

  The Earl dissolved once more into laughter. “Do you believe that is what your mother thought?”

  “No; I cannot conceive why she engaged her except, I suppose, that she could not think of anybody else. She was governess to a neighbour’s children for some years – and I don’t believe anyone liked her.”

  “Perhaps she thought she would not be so bad if she were not a governess – merely a sort of companion.”

  “I think that makes it worse; after all, no one expects to like their governess or wishes to spend any more time with her than is absolutely necessary, but the word ‘companion’ rather implies that one might enjoy being with the person. But, in truth, I don’t think she cared one bit; she simply wanted to send me away and had to find someone to go with me. It is lowering to realise that no one wants me any more than they want her. What is the matter with us?”

  “There is nothing the matter with you, Helen, that a few weeks in the light-hearted company of others of your own age would not set to rights. As for Miss Godmanton, she is indeed a plain old woman whom nobody loves – and that is very sad.”

  “But, although I doubt anyone would precisely love her, it would not be impossible to like her if only she would not be so disagreeable and hate everyone else,” Helen said.

  Hannah appearing in the doorway, his lordship requested she go and find ou
t what had become of Miss Godmanton.

  The maid, unable to resist a glance at Helen, bobbed a curtsey and went to the door.

  “You had better eat some breakfast,” Waldron told his cousin. “There is a long day ahead of us. While none of the others are here, I wonder if perhaps we should decide who is to travel in which carriage as we will have to squeeze everyone into two, including Hannah and my valet.”

  “Would it be excessively ill-mannered to relegate Mrs Moss to sit with the servants and Miss Godmanton, do you think?”

  “I think it would, rather,” his lordship admitted. “And I am afraid Miss Godmanton might object if we put Phyllis in there too.”

  Helen flushed, “You mean because then it would be me, you and Mr and Miss Moss? As a matter of fact, I think Mrs Moss would be perfectly happy with the servants so long as Phyllis was with you.”

  “I am afraid you may be right, which is one of the reasons why I am determined to put them both in the other carriage; I do not think I can endure a long journey fending off Mrs Moss’s attempts to throw her younger daughter in my way. The other difficulty is that I am fairly certain Miss Moss will insist on sitting in the same carriage as her sister, which means, I am afraid, that we will have to do without Mr Moss. In any event, I suppose it would be a sensible precaution, since the road is narrow, steep and composed of a number of hairpin bends – and the weather is not promising – to have one man in each carriage.”

  Helen could see the force of this argument and they agreed between them that his lordship would take Helen and the two Misses Moss in his carriage while leaving Mr Moss to accompany Miss Godmanton, Mrs Moss and the two servants in the other, smaller vehicle.

  “Although, really, if you can bear to share a carriage with Miss Godmanton, we should take her too as we will be in the larger carriage,” he said, adding, “I have owned to a strong objection to sitting with Mrs Moss and Phyllis together, but then I suppose you have an equally strong one for wishing to avoid Miss Godmanton just at present. Perhaps we should adopt the arrangement for today – after all, we can always decide on a different distribution tomorrow if necessary.”

  “I suspect Miss Godmanton will be happier with Mr Moss than with me,” Helen said diffidently.

  “Perhaps. Indeed, I am persuaded Mr Moss is not only more than able to soothe her ruffled feathers but will not take exception to sitting with the servants.”

  “No. Do you like him, Horatio?”

  “My opinion of him has surged since I observed his behaviour on the mountainside,” he admitted. “He is brave and resourceful, but he is not for you, Helen, as I said before. Your parents would never forgive me if I allowed you to run off with him.”

  “I don’t think you have any need to be anxious on that score for I am convinced he will have no desire to do any such thing. What have I to offer, after all?”

  “Not much in the way of a fortune,” her cousin agreed gently, “but all the same you are not quite in the common way and Mr Moss, for all he needs money, strikes me as a man with a mind of his own. It was my impression that he enjoyed your company last night.”

  “Was it? Truly?”

  “Yes, but I do not mean that I think he has formed an attachment to you – and in any event it would be no use his doing so.”

  “Mr Merdle left me a note this morning before he left,” she told him, reviewing in her mind the two young men.

  “Indeed? Did he claim to have formed an attachment on the basis of one dinner?”

  “No, of course he did not, but he did express the hope that we might meet again.”

  “Well, there you are then – you have already embarked on a path of acquiring a positive queue of suitors. Did you like him? I will look into his antecedents as soon as we reach Geneva.”

  “Thank you.”

  Feeling happier with her lot after this discussion and the laudanum beginning to have an effect upon her headache, Helen applied herself to her breakfast.

  The first person to come back into the room was Endymion, who reported that the doctor had seemed optimistic about Mario’s chances of recovering from his ordeal. He had regained consciousness and Endymion had been able to speak to him and explain that he and his family were to continue their journey in the company of Lord Waldron so that, when he was well enough to travel, Mario could go back home to Piedmont with the first person who was going in that direction.

  “Good,” Waldron said. “I assume you have already paid him for the whole journey, have you?”

  Endymion looked embarrassed and said, “Well, no, in point of fact I did not pay the full amount before we set off. I gave him half and promised the rest when we reached our destination. I have given him that now but feel that it would be proper to give him something more to pay for his board and lodging here until he is well enough to travel. There are also the doctor’s fees to settle – and I have arranged for him to call again from time to time over the next few days and weeks to make sure that Mario is going along as he should. I have, though, I confess, a little difficulty with covering these latter costs as I was not expecting them when we set out.”

  “Can I assist with a loan?” the Earl asked.

  “Oh, my lord, that would be wonderful indeed!” Endymion replied. “Although, until I have obtained a job – or won something at the cards – it will be difficult for me to repay you.”

  The Earl nodded. “There is no hurry. Has the doctor left yet?”

  “I think he is speaking to the proprietress and discussing what needs to be done for Mario, what he will need to eat and so on.”

  “Good. I will go and speak to him myself.”

  When the Earl had left the room, Helen found herself alone with Endymion.

  “I hope you will not mind my family travelling with you the rest of the way to Switzerland,” he said, sitting down opposite her.

  “Not at all; it will be a pleasure.”

  “You are very kind. Will there be enough space for us all, do you think? I can always travel on the box with one of the coachmen if necessary.”

  “My cousin and I were just now discussing how best to distribute everyone,” she said and told him of the conclusion they had reached.

  “Very sensible,” he agreed, “although I am sorry I shall not be sitting in the same carriage as you.”

  “You will have Miss Godmanton to divert you,” she told him, not sure whether she was teasing or wishing to see his reaction.

  “So I will,” he replied straight-faced. “I shall not complain, although it is a disappointment, for it is exceedingly kind of your cousin to find room for us and, barring any further disasters, I suppose we will meet when we change the horses.”

  “Yes,” she said doubtfully, “although I understand there are sometimes not very many horses available at each change up here. On that account, we have got into the habit of stopping at different post houses.”

  “Great God!” he exclaimed. “That is a blow! But we will meet this evening, will we not?”

  “Yes, I am sure we will.”

  “I suppose you will be joining Swiss society when we reach our destination?”

  “Is there such a thing? I don’t know but, since I believe my cousin’s house is not by any means in the centre of Geneva, I am not sure that I will. I have not been sent here to amuse myself precisely. I have come on a family visit, that is all.”

  “I see. Have you other family in Switzerland?”

  “Not so far as I know. My mother,” she confided as he frowned, apparently perplexed, “has nursed an ambition for Horatio and me to wed ever since I was born. It is silly because he has no wish to marry me.”

  “You are perhaps too closely related to be able to think of each other in that way. Are you first cousins?”

  “Yes; his father and mine were brothers, but his died when he was quite a little boy so that he came to live with us.”

  “I see – and I suppose it was not an altogether comfortable arrangement since he, upon the death of his father,
became Earl and yours became his heir. When your cousin marries, will you and your family be obliged to leave your house? Is it, in other words, his?”

  “No, fortunately it is not. It is not a large house – and my father, although he was provided for by his papa, does not possess anything like the estate which comes with the Earldom. We are not well off – and I will not have much of a dowry, which is of course the main reason my parents wish me to marry Horatio.”

  “Is it?” he asked, evincing neither surprise nor disappointment at this clear indication that Miss Lenham was not an heiress. “Is it not also perhaps because, although your father will not become Earl unless your cousin dies before him without issue, your son – if you marry Waldron - would in time become Earl.”

  “It may be. I have a brother who, if Horatio does not marry or does not have a son, will eventually become Earl so, if Papa wishes for the earldom, he must hope that Horatio does not marry.”

  “I should imagine that is a forlorn hope; he is almost bound to marry eventually. I am sure your parents are attached to your cousin, but it must, nevertheless, have been difficult for them to have him there - in the way, as it were.”

  “Yes.”

  “How long do you intend to stay in Switzerland?”

  “I don’t know; Mama is not particularly eager for me to come home so I suppose, if Horatio does not find me too irritating, some time. How long will you stay?”

  “Oh, that is impossible to predict. We have been travelling for years – we are, as it were, rolling stones.”

  “Gathering no moss?”

  He had been engaged in buttering a roll when she put her question, but he glanced up sharply at this question.

  “I don’t know what one can liken the moss to,” he said thoughtfully, “but, whether money or possessions, we not only do not gather it but seem more inclined to shed it, unfortunately.”

  “Perhaps you would be able to accumulate a little more if you did not move so frequently. Why do you?” She was determined to find out as much as she could while they were alone and there was no one to curb her impertinence.