by Joan Smith
Her smile was uncertain. “I expected there would be a few mishaps. It would have been very dull if nothing had happened, would it not? A pity we did not work in a lesson on the raft. But I think the trip has tested my mettle. Would you say I stood up to adversity as well as your former pupils, Jennie?”
Incredible as it seemed, she was still looking to me for approval. I was humbled by her anxious face waiting for my verdict. “You were splendid!” I said enthusiastically.
She gave a shy smile and held a fresh strip of cotton out to me. “When this job is done, I shall cut us some bread and butter it. You will want to help Mrs. Irvine hobble to the fire. She is a little out of curl, is she not? At her age she is probably not enjoying our outing as much as we are, but I think it was wonderful.”
Tears stung my eyes so that I could not look at her for a moment. When I had blinked them away, I looked and saw that under her tousled curls and dirty face, she looked as happy as a cow in clover. I felt a perfect hypocrite to let her think I knew the first thing about roughing it in the bush, but with the meeting with Marndale still to come, I had no intention of declaring myself a dissembler.
“Do you really have to go to London, Jennie?” she asked.
“It is all arranged. I really must.”
“Will you ask Papa to let me go to London with him? We could go on meeting there.”
“I doubt he will heed my request.”
“Oh, he will. He thinks very highly of you. What do you think of him?” she asked, and studied me with her big, bright eyes.
I cleared my throat nervously. “He seems a very good sort of father.”
“Oh yes, the very best, but I didn’t mean as a father. I meant as a husband. Now don’t take a pet. I know you disapprove of his affair with Lady Pogue, but if he married you, that would soon come to an end.”
“Good lord, Victoria. Where did you get the idea? Did he say something to you?”
“He told me to find myself a stepmother, and he would marry her and give me a brother. Well, I have found the stepmama I want. I know Papa must marry again because of needing an heir, and I want him to marry you.”
I felt nearly as elated as if Marndale himself had offered for me. The idea pleased me greatly, but any marriage between us would be a marriage of convenience, and that was so utterly impossible that I could not encourage her in her hopes. The notion of a marriage of convenience itself did not repel me, but a marriage in which one party was very much in love and the other a philanderer promised no convenience to either party.
“There is nothing like that between us,” I said firmly. “Your father will marry some great lady, Victoria. Someone from his own class. I am only a schoolmistress who had the good fortune to inherit a little money. A very little, in comparison with your father’s fortune.”
“Only a schoolmistress!” she laughed. “If you are only a schoolmistress, Wellington is only a soldier. Papa might marry a great lady, but on the other hand, he might marry someone like Rita Pogue. Do you think you could care for him? In time, I mean.”
“He has many good qualities,” I said vaguely.
Her satisfied little smile told me that she took it for approval in principle. Victoria went to cut the bread, and while I helped Mrs. Irvine toward the fire, my thoughts ventured into the future. Marndale’s only interest in me was to provide his daughter a mother and himself a son. His first good impression of my mothering abilities would be sadly cured by this excursion. The trip revealed my lack of judgment. Then I thought of Lady Pogue, and my spirits sank. If he was to marry a nobody, it would at least be a beautiful nobody like Lady Pogue.
When a fire was raging and the kettle hanging on the makeshift hob, Hubbard, with great ceremony, handed his gun over to Meg to protect us and left at a trot for Wycherly. He disdained having his cup of tea before leaving. The civility with which he treated me suggested that he was as fearful of my report to Marndale on his behavior as I was of his. All was courteousness and tugging of the forelock and “Yes, Miss Robsjohn. Certainly, ma’am.”
A sense of ease came over the party as we sat around the blazing fire with a hot mug of tea between our fingers and twilight turning the sky to a deep indigo blue. Birds left the trees in flocks for their final dizzying day’s flight, filling the air with their sweet warble. As Hubbard was not there to correct me, I ventured an identification of a few of them. We watched and ate our bread and drank our tea as the birds went to their roost. The sky gradually darkened to black pierced with glittering stars, and silence fell.
When our rescuers arrived it seemed an intrusion. I could hardly believe Hubbard had had time to reach Wycherly yet, let alone return. Hubbard’s head appeared first, with his misshapen hat pulled firmly over his brow. He was astride Silver Star. Before there was time to rise and greet our rescuer, another head and another horse appeared behind him.
“Papa!” Victoria squealed, and jumped up to greet him. “We didn’t expect you to come. Jennie told you not to disturb Papa, Hubbard,” she scolded.
“He insisted, miss. He was already at the stable saddling up to come after you.”
Marndale just looked with his mouth ajar in shock. “Good God, you all look as if you’ve been mauled by tigers!” he exclaimed when he found his tongue.
A glance around the assembled company made me acutely aware of our appearance. I knew that I looked every bit as ragged as the others, with their hair all askew, their clothing in filthy tatters, and their faces dirty. Marndale had dismounted to pull Victoria into his arms. Over her head his eyes turned to me in a long, measuring gaze that took note of all my deshabille. The glow in those dark eyes did not suggest disapproval. Quite the contrary. A small smile hovered on his lips.
He detached himself from Victoria and came toward the fire. “I am sorry Hubbard took you from your party.”
“I wasn’t at the party. As he said, I was at the stable, saddling up. I expected you would have returned long ago when the rain continued for so long. I feared something had happened. It was half a relief when Hubbard came pelting in.”
“It was not the rain that defeated us but Mrs. Irvine’s accident. You are just in time for tea, Marndale,” I said.
The leaping flames bathed him in a flickering, orange glow. The bizarre circumstances, the black night, and the gypsy fire, enhanced his appearance to something out of Arabian Nights. His face looked swarthy and romantic above his sparkling white shirt and evening jacket. He might have been a Gypsy prince surrounded by his tribe. Our gaze held for a long moment, then he turned to Mrs. Irvine.
“Are you in much pain, ma’am?” he asked.
“I feel as if I’ve done ten rounds with Gentleman Jackson. I might add that curst Belle of yours is no gentleman, Marndale. She dumped me into the bog.”
“She hasn’t been ridden in a decade.”
“Then we have not lamed one of your good mounts,” I said with relief.
I thought he would be in a hurry to return to his party, but he sat down and had a cup of tea while we all regaled him with the details of our outing.
“Jennie was splendid, Papa,” Victoria said. “And she said I was splendid, too. She taught me all about compasses and moss and flowers and pistils and stamens. I helped her bandage Belle’s ankle, and we ate awful food—leaves and twigs and bark—because Belle fell into the stream and our food got all wet.”
“A highly cultural expedition!” he laughed.
It was hard to go on being furious with him when he looked so handsome. Relief at seeing my disgrace being magically transformed into a victory softened my mood. But I remembered Lady Pogue and asked in a thin voice, “How is the party, Marndale?”
“Excellent.”
“If we hurry, we can still have a few dances,” Victoria said. Behind her father’s back she flicked a quick glance at him, then at me, in a meaningful way. This is your chance, that look said.
Marndale saw my interest and said deliberately, “It will take you ladies three or four days to clean up.
”
This snub took the edge off my enthusiasm. To retaliate I said, “You must give my apologies to Lord Anselm. I had promised him a waltz.”
“If we hurry, we can still have a few dances,” Victoria repeated. She emptied the remains of her tea on the ground, and the Hubbards began gathering up the utensils.
“You have had enough excitement for one day,” Marndale said firmly. “Jennie will want to see that Mrs. Irvine is comfortably settled in for the night, and you will go straight to your bed, miss.”
“I’m not a bit tired,” she insisted, but he feigned deafness.
It was as good as a prohibition on our attending the dance. I turned my back on Marndale and began making a fuss over Mrs. Irvine. I found her makeshift cane, helped her up, and ordered Hubbard to bring the mount forward. It took the two gentlemen to get her into the saddle with Victoria holding Silver Star’s head quiet.
Hubbard quenched the fire with water from the stream, and soon we were back on the trail homeward. Marndale offered me his mount, which I refused. Next he tried to get Victoria to take it, but if I was going to walk home, she was going to do likewise, so no one rode the beast. Marndale just walked along beside it.
Hubbard, who had the instincts of a homing pigeon, led the way followed by Meg and Belle with Mrs. Irvine behind them. Marndale walked his nag behind her with Victoria and me bringing up the rear. How Hubbard found a path through the pitch-black and perfectly impenetrable forest I do not know—or care. I never intended to willingly set foot in a forest again, even in daylight. Conversation was practically nonexistent as we forged our way onward. An occasional warning of a rock in the path or a wayward branch was about the sum of it. Once Marndale waited in a clearing for me and asked again if I was sure I did not wish to ride. Vickie left us alone, hoping for some romance to develop.
“You must be fagged,” he said solicitously.
“I am not in the least tired, but you must not worry. I am not going to insist on attending your dance.”
“You are perfectly welcome to attend, if you feel up to it. Is it anticipation of that waltz with Anselm that overcomes your fatigue?”
“Very likely,” I said offhandedly. I did not inquire if it was Lady Pogue’s monopoly of his time that made him wish I were too fagged to dance.
“There is still the morning to see him,” he said.
“True, but I hardly ever waltz in the morning. Especially when there is no music available. Let us go on, before we lose Hubbard.”
He cocked his head and said playfully, “Would that be so bad? We have the formidable Miss Robsjohn to lead the way.”
“You overestimate my abilities.”
“Perhaps you underestimate them.”
“Is there a point to this conversation, Marndale, other than delaying our return?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Apparently not,” he said curtly, and hurried off after the caravan.
As we continued I noticed my petticoat ribbons around two or three trees. They were not at all far from Wycherly. But then our entire excursion had not really taken us far as the crow flies. We must have made a crinkum-crankum trip into the woods, which made our trip seem longer than it was. Hubbard took us home in a straighter line.
While Hubbard took the other mounts to the stable, Mrs. Irvine rode Silver Star right up to the back door of the house. She slid off with no difficulty but needed assistance to walk. As soon as we entered the kitchen, Marndale asked Cook to send a girl upstairs to help Mrs. Irvine. He put his strong arm around her waist, she leaned her other arm on my shoulder, and in that fashion we got her up the servants’ stairs and into her room. Victoria tagged along behind, still chattering and boasting about our outing.
“I’ll send for a doctor,” Marndale said when my companion was laid out on the top of the counterpane.
“I’ll just take one of Jennie’s headache powders, and if I still feel below the weather in the morning that will be time enough to call a sawbones. A twisted ankle isn’t going to kill me. All I want now is to close my eyes and sleep,” she said wearily. “I am even too tired to eat, though we haven’t had a decent bite since we left.” She did look burnt to the socket.
“I’ll get my powders,” I said, and left her.
Marndale was outside her door when I came out from delivering the medication. He looked a trifle sheepish, which made me wonder what had happened.
“Vickie has decided she will go below for a dance after all,” he said. “As Mrs. Irvine plans to sleep immediately, perhaps you would like to join us. After you have made a toilette, I mean,” he added, his eyes flickering over my condition.
Though I had insisted I was not tired, I did, in fact, feel as if I had run a steeplechase. The manner of the suggestion was more diffident than enthusiastic, but even if he had gone down on his knees, I would not have accepted an invitation by that time. “It will take me eons to get the dirt scraped from my body. Even my hair should be washed. You had best return to your guests, Marndale.” It irked me greatly that he was happy with my answer. The satisfied lift of his lips revealed it.
“We’ll have another dancing party before you leave,” he said by way of compensation.
“That will be about five tomorrow morning, I assume? I have not had an opportunity to speak to you, but as we are home early from our outing, there is no reason Mrs. Irvine and I cannot leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow! You were to stay till Monday!”
“No, we changed our minds.”
“You cannot leave when Mrs. Irvine is ill.”
“She is not ill. She has wrenched her ankle. Sitting in a well-sprung chaise will not punish it much.”
“You cannot go tomorrow. The furniture is not even in the apartment yet. It is to be moved in over the weekend.”
“The apartment?” I frowned, as if I scarcely knew what he was talking about. “Oh, we have decided against accepting your kind offer. We shall hire rooms somewhere. Mrs. Irvine feels it might look odd for me to be accepting favors from you.”
“It is not a favor! It is payment for your looking after Vickie this past week.”
“I no longer have to work for pay, sir. I thought I had made that perfectly clear.”
I turned and strode angrily to my room. Marndale came hurrying after me, still arguing. “I don’t understand!” he said in frustration. “What has happened? Why are you suddenly rushing off and refusing to use the apartment? I thought it was all settled.”
With my hand on my doorknob I turned on him in a fury. “Nothing was settled! You think you have only to say the word and the whole world jumps to do your bidding. I never said I would take the apartment.”
“But you asked when it would be ready.”
That stymied me but not for long. “I was considering the matter. I have decided against it.”
“But why?”
I did not wish to dredge up the whole unsavory business of Mrs. Pogue slipping into his room after the house was asleep, but at his badgering it came out. “Because I have my reputation to consider, sir. I was not aware when I agreed to stay here that you were in the habit of having your mistress under your own roof. What will anyone think to hear that I am making a prolonged visit to Wycherly and especially that I have accepted an apartment in London from you?”
He looked perfectly blank. “Mistress?” he exclaimed.
“You dissemble uncommonly well, Marndale. At least you take pains to conceal that Lady Pogue joins you after the rest of us are asleep.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your discretion is not necessary with me. I know, and your daughter knows, what is going on here. I should think you might wait till you are in London at least.”
His brows drew together in a sharp frown. “What do you mean, my daughter knows? What have you been telling her?”
“Nothing. It was she who informed me of the relationship.”
“This is impossible,” he said brusquely.
“Is it? Then
no doubt you will straighten Victoria out.”
“You may be very sure I will!” he growled, and went stalking off in the direction of Victoria’s room.
My knees felt about as firm as water and my heart was hammering in my throat, but I managed to get the door open and went into my room.
Chapter Fifteen
My room was like a mausoleum. All was silent blackness around me, but as my eyes adjusted I discerned a watery moonbeam piercing the window. By its ghostly glimmer the chamber took shape. There was a pale rectangle of mirror at my toilette table, a larger, higher rectangle of canopied bed. Gradually the smaller furnishings took form as I stood, drawing in the sweet scent of flowers from the roses on my desk. By the moon’s eerie illumination I found the tinderbox and lit one lamp, then fell down on the bed in a state of disorientation.
Why had I not held my wretched tongue? Now Marndale would go badgering Victoria, and she would hate me, too, for betraying her confidence regarding the coal scuttle in Lady Pogue’s bed. But really it was infamous of him to deny it when there was hard, tangible evidence of what was going on. It seemed a gentleman was permitted to lie in defense of a lady’s reputation.
Time was irrelevant. I lay, not so much thinking as letting my mind drift where it would. Some time later the idea came to me that life must go on. I realized that part of the pain inside me was due to hunger, and I crawled up from the bed to ring for a tray. I caught a glance of myself in the mirror and saw that bathing must take precedence even over eating. I did indeed look as if I had been battling wild animals. My Titian hair was dulled with dust. Bits of twig and dry leaves clung to it. Dogs who have been rolling in the muck look as I looked. My face and gown suggested I had been dragged through the woods, not walked. Every square inch of me bore some disgusting filth from the bog.
I rang for a servant and asked for a tub of hot water to be followed by food. Any kind of food. I would have eaten the pig’s breakfast by that time. I peeled off my clothes and threw them into the wastebasket—stockings, shoes and all. They were beyond redeeming. Till the water came I wrapped myself in a blanket and sat, shivering. It was not cold, but my thoughts sent trembles down my spine. The morning, with the Eldons and Lady Pogue, could not possibly be anything but ignominiously embarrassing. I would not leave my room till I learned the other guests had departed.
