by Joan Smith
“It is news to me that she reads anything thicker than a calling card. Though to be fair, I have seen her thumbing through an occasional chapbook or horrid gothic novel.”
The tea tray was brought in, and I poured, feeling like the mistress of the place. One of my duties at the seminary was to instruct the ladies in the art of pouring tea. I knew to a nicety how to arch the wrist and how far to hold the spout above the cup. The conversation did not take the sort of turn I had anticipated. Lord Marndale subjected me to a severe quizzing on my career. Not the duration of it nor the reason I was teaching in the first place when I had some fortune but the actual subject matter and disciplinary measures.
“Did Mrs. Grambly permit the use of the strap?” he asked.
“No, she felt it proper for a boys’ school but not for young ladies.”
“How did she ride herd on the girls then?”
“We had occasionally to lock them in their rooms. For a serious infraction they might be deprived of an outing or a meal.”
“You would be referring to doings with young gentlemen?”
Mrs. Irvine came to sharp attention. “Tell him about that hurly-burly chit who ran off with the dancing master.”
“They were only gone for three hours in the middle of the afternoon,” I reminded her.
“Ho, men can be up to as much mischief in daylight as in the dark, and it don’t take three hours either.”
“This one got up to no mischief, for I had seen him rolling his eyes at her the week before and took the precaution of discovering where he had rooms. Mrs. Grambly and I went after them and got the girl back with no harm done to her. We notified the other ladies’ seminaries that the man was not to be trusted. It is the only way to deal with such creatures.”
“That was well done of you, to have noticed their romance,” he complimented.
“When you have young people in your trust you have to keep your wits about you,” I said modestly.
“Had I known Mrs. Grambly’s was so well staffed, I would have sent Vickie there,” he said, with a bow that made it a personal compliment.
“She would have had experts in the various fields instead of expecting one woman to tutor her in everything,” I pointed out.
“I fear I acted unwisely to keep her at home, but I wanted her near me. She could still do with some professional tutoring.”
“Most girls leave school around her age. She would be the eldest girl there. I doubt she would be happy.”
“Oh, it is out of the question now. She considers herself beyond the schoolroom. Have you thought of any friend or colleague who would be suitable to accompany her for the next year, till she is presented?”
“No, I cannot think of anyone at all. If it is only a companion you want, surely you must know some gentlewoman who would welcome such a sinecure?” Poor relations existed in every family. As various aunts had been mentioned, I knew his extended family to be fairly large.
“I shall find someone, of course.” He turned to include Mrs. Irvine in our conversation. “Are you ladies off to London for the Season?” She nodded.
“Not to make a formal debut,” I said, “but only to absorb some culture—galleries, plays, concerts—and take in a few informal parties.”
“That, too,” my talkative friend said, “but since she has got her fortune, Jennie plans to nab a parti. We have a certain baronet in our eye. With ten thousand and some looks, she can aim that high, don’t you think, Lord Marndale?”
The bluntness of her assertion left me pink all over. “I could really not care less whether I marry or not. It is the culture—”
“You’re not old enough to have to settle for culture yet, Jennie. You have a few good years still in you.”
Seeing my misery, Lord Marndale did the gentlemanly thing and changed the subject. “Mrs. Irvine mentioned a rigid schedule. I expect you have hired your house and servants?”
Nothing of the sort had been arranged. Our plan was to find a small apartment and hire a minimum of servants. “We shall do that after we arrive,” I replied.
He looked surprised. “Ah. You might find some difficulty with the Season beginning.”
Mrs. Irvine made another of her untimely eruptions into confidence. “If worse comes to worst, we can batten ourselves on Captain Smallbone, a friend of my late husband. He bought a small apartment house in Upper Grosvenor Square when he retired and ekes out his pension by renting a few rooms. I know he is not filled up, for I had a note from his wife just a week ago complaining that no one wanted the top floor because of the stairs. Jennie and I have strong limbs, however, and shan’t mind an attic.”
“Only as a last resort for a few days, till we can find something better,” I added hastily.
“It will be cheap at least,” Mrs. Irvine reminded me. “You’ll find the interest on ten thousand does not go so far as it would in Bath. For myself, I would have settled for Mr. Fuller. Barring the squinty eye, he is not at all bad looking, and well to grass. He would have shut up his shop when he got your fortune.”
“I assure you I have no intention of marrying a fifty-year-old draper!” I shot back angrily. “I am going to London—for the culture.”
Lord Marndale considered all this a moment in silence, then said, “About London, would you not be wiser to write to an estate agent outlining your requirements and have him find you a place before you proceed to town?”
“What? Go all the way back to Bath?” Mrs. Irvine demanded, as though he were insane. I thought it a bizarre idea, too.
“No, no. I meant stay here. The fact is, till I can find a lady to tend Victoria, I am in something of a bind. You would be doing me a great favor to stay a week or two.”
My first reaction was shock at the idea. My second was interest verging on delight. My third was dismay. Mrs. Irvine was right; he was up to something, and what I had to decide was whether it was a good thing for us. It would do us no harm to have spent a fortnight in a noble home. To arrive in London with an apartment already hired and waiting had its advantages. What mainly deterred me was plain impatience to reach the city. As I sat, mentally chewing over these conflicting factors, Lord Marndale continued talking.
I was not listening too closely, but it managed to get through to me that we might find ourselves putting up at a hotel in London for two weeks while waiting to find an apartment. That would obviously cost a fortune. He continued his persuasions.
“You will not want for company here. The neighbors are sociable and have not all left for London for the Season by any means. As to culture, the gallery has pictures, the library has books, and the stable can supply you with whatever mounts or carriages you require. My staff will look after all your needs as if you were family.”
The more he talked, the better I liked it. “What would our duties be?” I asked.
“Why, just to bear Victoria company and see she does not get into mischief. If you can lead her to read an occasional book and see that she takes some exercise, it is all to the good. As I said, I must spend some time in London, but I shall be home as much as possible.”
Better and better.
“While I am in London, I shall inquire of friends and relatives to see if I can find a suitable companion. I will be eternally in your debt if you oblige me in this manner.”
This was best of all! Lord Marndale eternally in our debt. Peeling away the obvious hyperbole, it still suggested a continuing friendship. He could open any door for us in London.
“But why us?” I asked. “You don’t even know us.”
“You forget,” he said with a dashing, confiding smile. “I have seen you under fire. I admire your spirit and your intelligence. You brooked no nonsense from me, and I am sure you would brook none from Vickie. You are accustomed to handling girls; you are an educated, cultured lady who would serve as an excellent example to her.”
“We could kidnap her and hold her to ransom for all you know,” Mrs. Irvine pointed out.
He turned his charm in h
er direction. “I am not quite so negligent a father as that. Miss Robsjohn was recognized at the inn last night by a Mr. and Mrs. Shipley. Before you joined me in the parlor for breakfast, they informed me in no uncertain terms that I was traducing the character of a very superior lady. Had you not been defending yourself so superbly, they would have come to your defense. You taught their daughter at Bath. Emily was her name.”
“The Shipleys! Did they see me in my disgrace!”
“No, they saw me in mine. Will you at least consider what I have asked? Sleep on it, and let me know in the morning.”
His eagerness was writ large on his face. I looked a question at Mrs. Irvine. She shrugged, and I agreed to think about it. Actually, I could think of nothing else after we retired. This was not at all the way I had planned to begin my search for excitement and a husband, but it seemed an excellent way. After a few minor objections Mrs. Irvine was brought to appreciate at least the momentary advantages of the scheme.
When we went abovestairs we found our belongings had been moved to two sumptuous rooms, to prod us into acceptance by a greater show of richness. Our night things were laid out on the bed, and a cup of cocoa and a plate of biscuits awaited our pleasure. I doubted we would get such royal treatment at a hotel, and we certainly would not get it free of expense.
Chapter Six
In the morning I was up before the household and sat alone in the breakfast parlor. Even Mrs. Irvine was not up yet. Privacy was a rare privilege at the seminary. Any moment alone was treasured. Surveying my new position, I rather thought this would be ay favorite part of the day, enjoying a quiet breakfast, surrounded by every sort of luxury. A month ago I was taking breakfast at a refectory table, facing a long row of giggling girls and a long day of riding herd on them.
I imagined I was mistress of all I surveyed, including the sun-dappled acres beyond the window. My appetite was still in its travelling mode, and I took a full meal from the covered dishes on the serving table. I was still eating when Lord Marndale came down.
When he stopped at the doorway and bowed his broad shoulders nearly filled the frame. He looked every inch the master of this fine home. What a fortunate man he was: wealthy, handsome, intelligent. The only misfortune that had ever befallen him, so far as I knew, was losing his wife. His eyes wore an eager question.
“Good morning, sir. You may relax. I have decided to stay.”
He bounded forward and placed an impetuous kiss on my forehead. “Thank God. And thank you, Jennie.”
His enthusiasm left me warm with embarrassment. A nervous laugh escaped. “Jennie?” I exclaimed, hardly knowing what to say.
“I expect Miss Robsjohn will rap my knuckles for that familiarity, but as I have quite shamelessly used you as a friend, surely assuming the prerogative of using your name is only a minor infraction. I hope you will call me Marndale.”
He took a plate and began filling it, still talking over his shoulder. “You found your new room with no trouble?”
“Bribery was not necessary, you know. The Chinese room was lovely.”
“For a longer stay I thought you and your chaperone would like the privacy of separate rooms. Feel free to share the Chinese room if you prefer.”
“No, I do like the privacy. I enjoyed being alone here, before you came. Not that I mean—”
He came to the table, a smile twinkling in his eyes. “My feelings are not so tender as that, Jennie.” How odd it seemed to hear this mighty lord call me Jennie, as if we were old friends. “I did some thinking before I slept last night. Further fuel to entice you, in case you refused my request,” he added with a playful grin. “I remembered I have a small apartment house on North Audley Street, just above Grosvenor Square.”
“I would think it hard to forget such a possession!”
“I bought it this winter and have been having it redone. There are two apartments not taken yet. You can have one of them. It will be more convenient than your naval friend’s place in Upper Grosvenor Square.”
I feared that any possession of Marndale’s must be beyond my purse and inquired for the rent. “Don’t concern yourself about that. The use of it for the Season will be your repayment for helping me out with Vickie. If you wish to continue on after the Season, then we shall discuss terms.”
“But I cannot take it without paying!”
He looked astonished. “None of my other tenants pay me. To tell the truth, I bought it as an investment for the future and find it an excellent storehouse for my various pensioners who would otherwise expect to stay here. Once you let them right into your home, you know, there is no turfing them out. I like my relatives, but I like them at a distance.”
“I feel the same. My Uncle Seth wanted me to stay with him when Papa died, but I prefer him at arm’s length.” No more was said about the apartment. I didn’t know whether I had accepted or not. I would have to discuss it with Mrs. Irvine.
“When did you lose your father?” he asked.
“Six years ago,” I replied. He did not inquire if I had gone to work immediately, and I did not offer the information. We ate as we talked, with no feeling of constraint at all. Marndale was surprisingly easy to talk to till he came right out and said, “How long were you at Mrs. Grambly’s?”
“Oh, a few years,” I said vaguely, for I found it harder to tell an outright lie than I had thought I would.
“Was your father a naval man, like Mr. Irvine?”
“No, he had an estate in the country. Not a large one. He was a younger son.”
“It is really none of my concern, but why did you choose to teach when it was not necessary— financially, I mean? Did you always harbor a wish to teach? Perhaps you are fond of youngsters?”
“Not in the least. I had very little money when Papa died. The mortgage, you know. My fortune—I doubt you would call it that—only came to me last month, when a maternal uncle from India died.”
“I would call ten thousand pounds or more a fortune. One can live with some of life’s amenities on five hundred a year.”
“Well then, it is a fortune—just barely.”
“This baronet you have in your eye—”
“Good gracious, I am not hounding off to London after a husband! You must have noticed Mrs. Irvine has but one thing on her mind, but that is not to say I share her interest. If I happen to meet a gentleman I care for who also cares for me, I would consider an offer. If not, I shan’t be desolated, I promise you.”
He looked across the table with a lingering gaze. “I give you about three weeks before you’re attached.” It was my second blush that morning, and I swear I had not blushed in a decade. “Why are you not being presented formally?” he asked, pretending not to notice my rosy cheeks.
I had no intention of admitting I had no suitable connections. “Everything happened so suddenly, there was not time to arrange it. I just decided to go along to London and enjoy a little culture, as I said. I have lived near or in Bath all my life. I intend to return there eventually.”
He cocked his head to one side and studied me. “Bath is for valetudinarians. You must be strikingly out of place.”
“I have many friends in Bath.”
He continued studying me. “What a slow bunch of tops they must be to have let you escape.”
I laughed. “I took my money and ran. There was no stampede to attach me when I was a working lady.”
“Not even from Mr. Fuller?” I was amazed that he recalled the draper’s name.
“Surely more than one man is necessary to form a stampede.”
It was at this moment, almost verging on intimacy, that Lady Victoria joined us. She looked sharply from me to her father. “Enjoying a new flirtation, Papa?” she sniffed, and placed a cool peck on his cheek.
“You must mind your manners, miss,” he said jovially. “You do not want to give Miss Robsjohn a disgust of you or she will change her mind about staying with us.”
She turned a piercing and very mature gaze on me. “Oh, you hav
e agreed to stay. How lovely.” But her flashing blue eyes belied the words. Then she turned to her father. “You did tell Miss Robsjohn that I am no longer in the schoolroom, Papa? She is staying as a companion, not a governess.”
“She is in loco parentis, and will inform me of any misconduct. But we must not frighten her.” He turned to me. “Vickie’s problem is ennui. She is a restless girl. Keep her occupied, and she will give you no trouble.”
“When are you leaving, Papa?” she asked.
“As soon as I’ve finished breakfast. I expect to be home Friday afternoon. Can you two ladies amuse yourselves while I’m gone?”
“I trust we can,” I told him, with a leery glance at Lady Victoria. She went to the serving table and began filling her plate.
Lord Marndale hastily finished his breakfast, kissed his daughter good-bye, shook my hand, asked me to convey his adieux to Mrs. Irvine, and left. I regretted that Lady Victoria had joined us, as her staring presence prevented any warmer farewell.
“What do you suggest we do today, Lady Victoria?” I asked in a friendly way.
“I am going into the village,” she replied, with another of those ice cold looks.
“Excellent. What village is that?”
“Chiddingfold, of course.”
That “of course” revealed her mood. If she thought to intimidate me with poor manners, she was much mistaken. “I look forward to it.” “Oh, do you want to come along?”
“That is what ‘I look forward to it’ usually means.”
Her lips clenched, but she dared not be too rude. “I shall be leaving as soon as I finish eating.”
“I’m afraid you must wait till Mrs. Irvine is down, to see if she wishes to go with us. Naturally you will not want to offend your father’s guest by leaving her out.”
“Guest? Is Papa not paying you?” she asked boldly.
“No, he isn’t. As you were at such pains to point out I am a companion, not a governess. I thought you realized it.”
