Cecilia Or Flight From A Shadow

by Catherine Bowness

  “The thing is, though, that it is my brother against whom she will need to be guarded – as you know.”

  “Is he given to seducing innocent young women?”

  “No; but he is inclined to break their hearts.”

  “Just so, but I suspect that horse has already bolted and it is too late to shut the stable door now. All I can hope is that she will meet someone more suitable and switch her allegiance.”

  “Hmn, one can hope, but would it not be more likely if we were to disappear?”

  “Yes, probably, but I do not want you to disappear. Do you wish to?”

  “No.”

  “I am being selfish,” he said. “I know I said earlier that I would prefer your brother and Helen not to grow too intimate, but the truth is that I want you to stay and my heart leaped when Helen made her suggestion. I had only been planning to find you employment and make myself a nuisance by constantly calling upon you and inviting you to join us as often as possible for excursions. Her proposal could not have chimed more nearly with my own wishes. She knows she cannot marry your brother and he – well, I do not know what he seeks from her, but he is clearly in need of a fortune and, if we take him about in Society with us, he will very likely find one.”

  “That will break her heart.”

  “Perhaps, but then again perhaps not. It is possible that she too will find someone else or realise that he is not altogether what she seeks. He is very young – as is she – and we cannot be certain how matters will progress for either of them. Will he run off with her?”

  “No; how could he? She does not have enough for them both and he has nothing. He may be young, but he is neither innocent nor naïve. He knows he must marry money. She is expected to marry you.”

  “I do not think she wishes to, and I certainly do not intend to marry her.”

  “Does she know that?”

  “Yes.”

  “If Miss Godmanton decides not to leave,” Cecilia said after a pause, “there will be no need for me.”

  “She is an employee,” the Earl pointed out, “and can be dismissed.”

  “Of course.” Cecilia spoke coldly for she could not help thinking that she would also be an employee and could be dismissed. She would be no safer in the Earl’s employ than in anyone else’s and she knew that he wanted her because he was attracted to her. When he made a move to seduce her, which he inevitably would, she would be out on her ear sooner than you could say Jack Robinson if she rejected him. If she did not, her employment would change its nature but would become no more certain and very likely even shorter-lived. She knew too that, although she had vowed never to become a man’s plaything, she would find it harder to resist Lord Waldron than any other man she had met.

  In the first place, she already owed him so much that it would seem churlish to push him away but, far more importantly, she was afraid that she had fallen in love with him quite as much as Helen had fallen in love with her brother. She reflected that she and Helen made a well-matched pair of ninnies, both having given their hearts to wholly unsuitable men.

  “You look shocked. She is not the ideal chaperone for a young woman who wishes to attend balls and masquerades and so forth for she would not want to go to them herself. I daresay she was not such a bad governess – and would not be such a poor one even now – but her talents and character do not lend themselves to managing a young girl’s introduction to Society. Yours do, for you will fit easily into the fashionable world, will be wholly acceptable to everyone and will, being not so much older, be better able to deal with her whims and miffs and changes of heart. Pray do not be anxious for Miss Godmanton; I shall not simply send her away - or I will - but with a decent amount of what you might call severance pay, a carriage to drive her back to England and a companion to accompany her – probably the maid.”

  “But she is not your employee, is she? Was she not engaged by Lady Charles, Helen’s mama?”

  “Yes, but she will neither know nor care. Her one desire was to send Helen out here to marry me and she only hit upon Miss Godmanton because she had to find a chaperone and could think of no one else; she was always a poor choice. Now that Helen is here, she is my responsibility and I really cannot have her competing with her chaperone for a young man who is an inappropriate choice for either of them.”

  Cecilia flushed and the Earl, his lips twitching, went on, “I daresay you will be competing with her for any number of admirers – and you will probably win them all – but at least you will not be competing for the only one she wants – your brother.”

  “I see. I still think you would be better to send us on our way.”

  “I don’t want to; and neither does Helen. It is one matter where we are completely in accord.”

  “Why?” she asked, greatly daring.

  “Why don’t I want to send you away? Come, Miss Moss, pray do not pretend to be naïve. You cannot have failed to notice how much I admire you; indeed, I have already told you something of what I feel – and been slapped down.”

  “That is what gives me pause,” she admitted. “I am not open to a – a liaison.”

  “No? You will not consent to become my mistress?” He raised an interrogative eyebrow as he spoke, but she rather thought he was teasing.

  “No.”

  “I knew it! You see how very respectable and honourable you are – the perfect chaperone for my cousin.”

  She looked away, her cheeks burning, and wished she could cool them by contemplating the snow-covered peaks in the distance.

  “It had not occurred to me to ask you until you mentioned it,” he went on. “But, now that we have made that clear, I don’t think we need let it concern us any further, do you?”

  “No, my lord.”

  She said nothing further and neither did he so that the question and its answer lingered in the minds of both, as well as the other question – which he had not asked but which she could not banish from her heart for all the severity of her self-apostrophising.

  She realised that, since accepting his – or rather Helen’s – offer of a job, she was already in a different position vis-à-vis the Earl. She had ceded her independence and must do as she was bid – or give up the position - and giving up the prospect of living in his house with all the increased contact that would enable was too painful to contemplate.

  In the other carriage, conversation was necessarily bland and uncontroversial since the maid and the Earl’s valet were sitting with Mrs Moss, Miss Godmanton and Endymion.

  The servants sat on the less comfortable side of the carriage but had more space as there were only two of them. Endymion wondered if it might be better if he sat with them after the first change for three crammed together, when one of them took up considerably more than a third of the space, was oppressive. Anxious lest Miss Godmanton might think herself above Mrs Moss and seek to depress her pretensions with acid rejoinders to anything his mother tried to say, he had placed himself between them, where he found himself squeezed on one side against Miss Godmanton’s bony thigh and disagreeably enveloped by his mama’s overstuffed one on the other.

  Miss Godmanton, who had only risen, dressed and consented to sit in the coach at all for fear of otherwise being left behind, refrained from all comment. She sat like a dummy with her face resolutely turned to gaze out of the window although Endymion did not think that she was admiring the scenery.

  His mother, glad to be offered what looked like a free passage into Switzerland, was nevertheless sufficiently intimidated by the stony faces of the servants opposite to refrain from making any of her usual observations – for which her son was profoundly grateful.

  The servants, obliged to travel with their betters – although Endymion wondered if they did in fact consider any of their present companions to be their betters, kept their lips firmly closed and their expressions bland.

  He, thankful for every minute that passed without his having to intervene to soothe one party or the other, did not open his mouth either.<
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  When the carriage drew into a post house for its first change, he climbed carefully over his mother – not liking to run the risk of tripping over Miss Godmanton – and jumped down to oversee the arrangements. After a few minutes, leaving the matter in the capable hands of the coachman and groom, he strolled inside to enquire about the possibility of eating nuncheon. They had left so late that it was already past noon and he at least was famished.

  Having ordered something to be served in a private parlour for the three of them and something to be provided for the servants in the Alpine equivalent of the taproom, he went back outside and informed his fellow travellers of what he had done.

  They all disembarked and meekly followed him into the inn, where they were soon served an excellent repast of bread, ham, cheese made from mountain goats’ milk and fruit, accompanied by the local ale.

  Mrs Moss tucked in with almost as much enthusiasm as her son; she had not eaten much breakfast on account of having woken late and bilious. Endymion himself ate heartily as always; he wished they could have joined the rest of the party for, in truth, his companions left a good deal to be desired. Miss Godmanton still maintained her apparent vow of silence and ate hardly anything, refused the ale and insisted on being served a cup of tea, something which caused a good deal of difficulty in the kitchen and necessitated detailed instructions from Endymion as well as a discussion of which leaf could most usefully stand in for camellia sinensis. Since the explanation was conducted in Italian, Miss Godmanton was none the wiser and, still determined not to break her self-imposed silence, did not complain when she tasted the concoction, although she made a face. Endymion hoped she had not been poisoned and resolved to keep a close eye upon her for the remainder of the day.

  After nuncheon, the party climbed back into the carriage where Endymion placed himself in the corner of the seat shared by Hannah and the valet. It did not take him long to realise that this was not an ideal position either for he had chosen the place opposite his mother in preference to that opposite Miss Godmanton and was forced to contemplate her sleeping form for several hours. Miss Godmanton, who had hardly closed her eyes the previous night, also fell asleep but, unlike Mrs Moss who sprawled all over the seat with her head lolling arbitrarily from side to side, remained rigidly upright with her mouth as firmly closed as it had been when she was awake. Endymion marvelled that a person could retain such stern control over themselves when asleep and yet have fallen into hysterics in response to harsh words.

  It was therefore with enormous relief that they drove at last into the hostelry the Earl had chosen as their next night’s lodging as darkness was beginning to fall.

  Chapter 31

  Endymion and Cecilia almost fell upon each other’s necks when they eventually met in the private parlour the Earl had bespoken, causing Miss Godmanton to descend from her high horse for long enough to raise her brows at Helen with an ‘I told you how it was’ expression upon her face.

  “Have you had a good journey?” Endymion asked, stepping back to look into his sister’s face.

  “Very comfortable,” she replied enigmatically.

  “Do I detect a note of discomfort?”

  “It was a little awkward,” she conceded. “How was yours?”

  “Nobody said a word.”

  “Well, that cannot be so bad as people saying things you wish they would not,” she countered.

  “Oh, I don’t know; I daresay you might be surprised. Who said things you wished they had not?”

  “Miss Lenham and Phyllis were asleep most of the time.”

  “His lordship? What did he say? Did he proposition you? If so, I will have a word with him and you shall travel with us tomorrow.”

  “No, I think I rather implied that I expected him to which made him tease me. I am his servant now, am I not?”

  “Not precisely. I believe you are Miss Lenham’s.”

  “Do you? I think I am his. Who, after all, is going to pay my wages?”

  “He pays for everything so, in that sense, we are all his servants,” Endymion pointed out. “Do you want to leave – or, in the circumstances, not go with him, I suppose?”

  “No, but I wish I did not feel so uncomfortable.”

  “Why do you?”

  “I think it is because he has so much power over me – and perhaps I am a little afraid that I will give way to him over – over everything, I suppose.”

  “Are you tempted to take the position Mama was trying to arrange for Phyllis?”

  “He would never offer it to her,” she said defensively.

  “I know; I did not mean that you were thinking of stealing a march on her. He has propositioned you, has he not?”

  “No; only he has said he does not want me to leave and that he admires me. He has not suggested anything improper – it was I who did that – and he more or less denied that he had even thought of such a thing. I suppose the person I am most afraid of is myself. I am not certain I could resist if he did offer me something. He – I like him, Dym.”

  “I don’t know why you would want to resist, Cissy. In any event, it’s my belief he will offer you marriage. Do you not suppose that he is doing all this, taking us to Switzerland, carefully arranging who travels with whom, paying for everybody, offering us jobs, treating us all – even Mama – with the utmost respect and kindness because he has fallen in love with you? I don’t believe he would do so much, nor do it so tactfully and considerately, if he simply wanted you in his bed.”

  “He could not,” she whispered, trembling.

  “Why not? Because of our grotesque family history or because we’re not Quality or because you’re ‘past marriageable age’? Darling Cissy, he is exactly the man who should be your husband. Would you not like to be his wife?”

  “Oh do not, pray do not wave such paradise in front of me,” she begged. “Of course I would like it above everything – but he will not – he could not. He is an Earl and I – what am I?”

  “Well, I’m not entirely sure but you’re certainly respectable, kind, beautiful, loyal – and you love him, do you not?”

  “I’m much afraid I probably do. I wish we had not met him.”

  “That is an extraordinarily silly thing to say. If we had not met him, we would all be dead by now. By the way, did you notice, amongst all the propositions, flirting and so on, how wonderfully quiet the carriage was? In our silent coach, I could not help marvelling at the lack of noise, the absence of that particularly disagreeable grinding that immediately preceded our fall?”

  “Yes, I did. Do you think there was something amiss with the carriage so that it was not poor Mario’s driving which pitched us into the ravine but rather the whole thing breaking up?”

  “Yes, I do – and I have done for some time. In fact, I asked Mario before we left what he thought had caused the accident. He was not as compos mentis as he might have been, but he confirmed that he had not driven over anything and that the wheels had not skidded. He was of the opinion that at least one of the wheels fell off spontaneously.”

  “It was a rackety old contraption, but would he have set off on such a perilous journey without checking beforehand?”

  “He said he had checked but he wondered if perhaps a nut or bolt or something had come loose while we were driving. There are, after all, a vast number of sharp bends on the road.”

  “Yes. I hope it was not one of our enemies who loosened it before we set off,” Cecilia said, shivering.

  “How could they have done? And is there really anyone who wishes so desperately to despatch us that he would interfere with a hired coach? Some people want to disparage us, several want to seduce Phyllis – or you, whatever you say – but mostly they simply want to amuse themselves at our expense. I cannot believe anyone wants to kill us.”

  “No, I’m sure you are right.” She spoke glibly because she had seen the Earl approaching and wanted to change the subject.

  But he had heard Endymion’s last sentence.

  “Kill
you? Do you have those sorts of enemies and, if so, why?”

  “Oh, Cissy was just voicing her worst nightmare,” Endymion replied airily. “We are nowhere near important enough for anyone to want to remove us permanently.”

  “No? I have been thinking about what your coachman said about the accident,” Waldron continued, “and I have also been thinking – exhaustively, although without much success – about the lurid past which you refuse to divulge and whether the two are in any way connected.”

  “It is shame which prevents us from confessing,” Endymion replied, adding to his sister, “I think you should admit all to his lordship; in the circumstances, I believe he not only deserves to know but will be in a better position to advise us.”

  But she did not.

  The evening passed in tranquillity, Miss Godmanton pleading a headache and retiring to her room before dinner. This left Helen free to hang upon Endymion’s every utterance except when his sister, endeavouring to take up her position as chaperone, took him away. But, since she was the centre of Lord Waldron’s attention, she did not find it easy to intervene.

  Mrs Moss, observing both her elder children, began to change her mind about which daughter she might be able to place with his lordship and focussed her own attention upon Phyllis. The girl was clearly surprised by this but seemed delighted to be able to hang upon her mother without being pushed at a man. Helen, when deprived of Endymion, also spoke to the girl and had soon, quite without intention, succeeded in becoming, for the first time in her life, a role model.

  When Helen told her that Cecilia was to be her new chaperone, Phyllis was delighted although, touchingly, it did not seem to occur to her that she might be included in any of the fashionable parties to which Helen was hoping to be invited.