Netherby Halls

by Claudy Conn

  The doctor’s driver clucked to his team, and the group was off.

  Grateful, Sassy thought, I feel grateful, but what is it that makes me feel uncomfortable in his company? “This is just so kind of you.” She smiled and tried to make herself feel at ease. “Indeed, this wonderful idea of yours has given the older girls the courage to talk Miss Sallstone and actually got her to arrange for them to see tomorrow’s matinee.”

  “Excellent. I have always thought that the theater should be introduced into the girls’ studies.” Dr. Bankes smiled at her through the darkness.

  “Yes, I quite agree,” she said, looking away from his intent gaze.

  “May I say, Miss Winthrop, in your drab grays I found you exceptional, but now, with your hair, your gown, you are absolutely ravishing.”

  Sassy laughed amiably and told herself he was a nice man, a good man and that she should feel honored to have his attention. “You are certainly very sweet to say so.”

  Suddenly he put a white-gloved finger to her chin. “Lord, woman—do you think I am sweet? That much advantage I shall not take of you. I believe in playing fair. Do you not realize that I have not done this out of the kindness of my heart? I have done this for one reason only—to one end.”

  Oh, thought Sassy, suddenly wary. What was he saying? Was he about to make her an indecent proposal—for it had that sound. “To what end is that, Dr. Bankes?”

  “To put you at ease with me and perhaps hear you call my name, James, which would then allow me the use of your delightful name, Sassandra—or if your prefer, Sassy.”

  Relief flooded her, and she laughed merrily. “Oh yes, I do feel you are entitled to call me by my given name, … James.”

  “Well then, Sassy, tell me, from where did your parents derive such a lovely name?”

  “Oh, I am named after a great-great-grandmother.” She hesitated. “On my mother’s side, and I understood the name was taken from the Sassanian Empire.” She smiled warmly at him and tried hard not to think of the marquis, whose voice had been whispering her name distractingly in her ears for the last two minutes. The closer they drew to town, the more insistent became his voice. She was strong-willed, but it was difficult to ignore the hypnotic call, and her lashes fluttered as she tried to ignore the voice in her head. She tried speaking over it and added, “But as far back as I can remember everyone, even Mama, always just called me Sassy.”

  “And are you?” the doctor sallied.

  “When I have a mind to be,” she replied saucily and once again was swept into her mind where she felt the marquis’s presence break down her wall of defense and begin to take over.

  She saw him standing in a black velvet cutaway, his black hair billowing around his handsome face, his blue eyes penetratingly and mesmerizingly looking right at her. What was this?

  This was not her magic. She knew this was not her magic? What then?

  The magic of her mother’s coven, trying to force her to accept what she was and what? Why would the coven now enter her life? Her mother’s family had cut them off, cut off the power of their numbers. Why now would the coven do this? No. She could not believe this was the work of the coven.

  This was something else, but what?

  A moment later, James gave her his hand and helped her alight to the curbing in front of the bright torch lights on either side of the Bristol Theater. The place was Tudor in design, giving one the entire Shakespearean experience as one entered through its wide doors.

  The girls were in high spirits as they gathered around Sassy and Dr. Bankes and were herded into the busy crowd, where their seats were allocated.

  A thrill rushed through Sassy. Her parents had often taken her to the theatre, and she had always loved the experience from beginning to end. She watched the fashionables of Bristol sashay and mingle, strut and quiz, all vivacious and ready to enjoy themselves. She smiled brightly as she gazed into the gallery and at the laughing menagerie of merchants, ladies of the night, commissioned seamen, and even some of the more genteel patrons hobnobbing and flitting about.

  Air. The air from her lungs was suddenly usurped, and she stood a moment nearly gasping to regain it. Blue eyes stared across at her, and she saw that he was wearing exactly what she had seen him wearing in her mind only moments before.

  The silver buttons on his black velvet glinted, as did the gold of his ring, which she had never noticed before, a most unusual ring; its design made her think she had seen its insignia before. He inclined his head to her in greeting as he slipped on his gloves and turned away.

  She was suddenly and absurdly deflated that he had turned away from her. A moment later when she glanced towards his box he was conversing animatedly with a tall blonde beauty.

  Sassy looked away. Something constricted in her throat, and she blinked hard as she tried to shake off the awful feeling. Honest with herself, or trying to be, Sassy looked squarely into her mind and saw the jealousy blazing there like a hoary, separate entity.

  Enough, she told herself. The curtain was rising …

  Shakespeare’s memorable characters Kate and Petruchio took over the stage, and Sassy was able to put aside all other thoughts as she sat forward, intensely enjoying the performance.

  During intermission the girls were allowed to go in search of lemonade, and the doctor turned his attention upon Sassy, giving her a sweeping smile. She could not help but notice that his gaze lingered at her breasts before he looked into her eyes and said lightly, “Enjoying yourself?”

  “Immensely, James. How can I ever thank you for this lovely evening?”

  “Shall I be gallant and say you have already done so by simply being here, or shall I instead, dally with you outrageously and tell you that I will think of a way?” He spoke so softly that Sassy had to lean into him to hear what he was saying, and as she came closer, he covered her gloved hand with his own.

  She felt herself blush, for she sensed something in his words. Was he testing her? Also, how could she withdraw her hand without appearing rude? What was he doing? Was he trying to see how far he could go? However, she didn’t have the time to respond to this, for at that moment a masculine voice spoke, one that went into her nervous system and made her body tingle as she jumped guiltily away from Dr. Bankes.

  The marquis’s voice was dry as he said, “I am sorry to intrude. However, Miss Delleson would not give either Mr. Lutterel or me any peace until I carried out her wishes to escort her friend, Miss Winthrop, to her box.”

  Heat flooded Sassy’s cheeks, and for a moment she wished she had a fan, she was so warm. She and Dr. Bankes must have appeared to be—oh, what would the marquis think? Did he think she and the doctor had been caught in an intimate moment? No, oh no. She did not want him to think so, and why she didn’t want him to think so eluded her at that moment.

  The marquis bent his arm towards her, and she turned to Dr. Bankes and said, “I am sorry. I shan’t be long.” She put her gloved fingers on the marquis’s forearm, and the strength beneath her touch made her heart flutter.

  What, oh what was she going to do? She couldn’t go on pretending that this big, handsome, mysterious man wasn’t forever in her thoughts. But if she wasn’t going to find herself hurt, that was precisely what she was going to have to do. She was working as a tutor—he was a marquis. This could only end badly.

  Miss Delleson, dressed in what seemed a mist of champagne bubbles, burst on the scene at that moment, saying she could no longer wait for Sassy to make her way to her box. She and Percy, following at her back, were introduced to Dr. Bankes, and then Sophy drew Sassy aside.

  Sassy could not help but notice that Sophy was barely civil to Dr. Bankes and frowned over the matter, but Sophy was chattering away so glibly that she could not ask about it.

  “I sent you a note round earlier this afternoon. Did you not get it, for I told that dratted boy Papa is grooming to be oh, I don’t know what, but I told him to put it expressly in your hands and have not seen him since.” Sophy waved this off
with an impatient expression and whispered, “Sassy, I need you. I have got myself into an awful tangle. I can’t explain it all to you here and now, but I am desperate. Promise me you will fall in with my plans—promise?”

  Sassy arched a look at her. “What plans, Sophy, for I can not promise you anything unless I know what it is.”

  “My rout! Oh, Sassy, I know it is short notice, but that is not my fault. It came about so suddenly, so I can’t be blamed for that, now can I?”

  “Sophia …” Sassy said, eyeing her intently.

  “Do but listen,” Sophy demanded petulantly. “You see, I am to have Cecy’s rout because she has the measles!”

  Sassy was all at sea. Seeing her expression, Sophy gave over to the giggles but managed to clear her throat and squeeze Sassy’s hand. “Oh, I do like you. Sassy, of all my friends, you are so … so … real.” This said, she waved it off and dove right in once more. “Cecy is just an acquaintance so don’t think me hard-hearted that I don’t seem to care that she has contracted the measles, but whatever is she doing with them now? Should have had them when she was younger. At any rate, I was monstrous put out when I first heard the rout was to be cancelled, but then Mama said I may have it instead.”

  “Ah,” Sassy said, “Sophy while it is very sweet of you to invite me—”

  “Precisely so, I can be sweet when I choose, and I do choose to be sweet to you, for I don’t know what it is, Sassy, but I find I like you above all my other friends who I have known forever. At any rate, I must tell you, that is not the only reason why you must come to my rout.”

  “Ah,” Sassy said, again much amused.

  “You see, the invitation to Percy will only go out if he can get the marquis to accept to come, and the marquis has been very disobliging. He says he will only attend if I can convince you to do so.”

  “What?” Sassy returned, inwardly flattered. “You cannot mean it?”

  “I know the marquis now well enough to know that he means it. Say you will come.”

  Sassy turned and at that moment found the marquis bowing his head to yet another attractive woman and blowing that woman a kiss. Her hands almost went to her hips, her foot nearly stomped the floor, and she said, “Oh! This … this is outrageous.”

  “Sassy, set my mind at ease. Do say you will come?” Sophy pleaded.

  She somehow could not bring herself to refuse Sophy, though logic told her she should. Logic, however, was not working her heart, her brain, or her body. Something called magic was in charge there … or was it magic of a different kind—was it love?

  ~ Sixteen ~

  THE MARQUIS MADE no further attempt to speak with Sassy after the intermission. When Percy finally bade his farewell to Sophy, Justin smiled to himself, sat back against the seat of his high-perch phaeton, and sighed.

  A thoughtful silence ensued, until Percy broke it resoundingly with, “Damnation and fire, Justin! Just what is your game?”

  The marquis leveled his friend with a look and said, “My game?”

  “Don’t look at me like that.” Percy pointed a righteous finger. “I have known you long enough to know when you are being the very devil. What I don’t know is why?”

  “Really, Percy, I should think you would be floating with happiness at having successfully patched up your little squabble with Miss Delleson, but here you are ranting at me like a madman.” The marquis chuckled and looked away. He knew his friend well enough to know that Percy was not about to give it up.

  “Don’t misread me, Justin, grateful to you—was a splendid notion you had of getting up a party to go to the theater. But I know you, and I have this gut feeling that something was behind it, just like I know you didn’t bring me to Bristol just because you wanted to help me with Sophy. There is another reason.”

  “Hang it all, man. That is very bad of you, I must say. I have been subjected to Petruchio convincing Kate that the moon is the sun and the sun the moon more times than I can count. So the evening offered me little more entertainment than watching you further yourself in Sophy’s eyes.”

  “Gammon!” Percy replied, unashamed. “Wait a minute—by Jove and damn, why didn’t I see it sooner?” He slapped his knee jovially. “’Tis the Winthrop chit, isn’t it? You have made a push to have her, and she won’t have you. Well, that stands to reason. You can’t offer a vicar’s daughter a carte blanche and think she will jump at the chance, now can you?”

  “Go to the devil,” the marquis said amiably.

  “Hold a minute. Did you ask her to join us this evening? You did—you did, and she refused, went with the local doctor instead—that fellow Bankes, who by the way I found too … I am not sure what the word is, but don’t like him.”

  “She had already been asked by Bankes, who had the forethought to invite her entire class. He was quite above board in his attentions.”

  “Jealous! That is what it is. You are jealous. Damn if it isn’t written all over your face.”

  “It pains me to say this to you again, but you leave me no choice. Go. To. The. Devil.”

  “Well, look at that, the libertine Marquis of Dartmour, struck down by a sweet lovely. But, Justin, you cannot expect constancy from a chit you don’t even really know?”

  “Constancy? What is that, and what man past his eighteenth year expects it?” The marquis scoffed.

  “You did as I recall.”

  “Yes, I did—did being the word. At eighteen, I did expect it—at nineteen I knew better. Much better.” The marquis folded his arms across his chest and put on an expression of boredom.

  “Yes, but—”

  The marquis cut him off. “Females are wretched creatures with foibles enough to shatter a man’s soul and scatter it to the winds without so much as an afterthought.”

  “And yet, old friend, you have a knack of collecting them—females,” Percy said dryly.

  “Not for long, Percy. I have learned to set them free soon after they cease to be new.”

  “Cynical, but Miss Winthrop, I do think, is an innocent. It is not like you to seduce an innocent.”

  “No? Is it not?” the marquis said, frowning over the problem.

  “Your heart is in this, isn’t it?” Percy asked, watching him closely.

  “Leave it be, Percy. Be a good friend and leave it be.”

  * * *

  Alone and propped up against her pillow with the dim light of her candle beside her bed, Sassy hugged the quilt to her chin and contemplated the evening.

  It had been a very full night, but—and there was the crux of it, the but, because she could see that the marquis meant to seduce her. She might not be experienced, but she was not stupid. She knew her position in life would make it difficult to find love and marriage as a unit.

  And then there was James Bankes. The doctor had been strangely quiet on their ride back to school. She had asked him as gently as she could if anything was the matter, and he had shaken his head, saying only that people like Miss Delleson and her sort always made him introspective. She had not probed for more. It had been obvious to her that Sophy had dismissed him negligently after their introduction, and she sighed for it, as she had thought it rude.

  The Netherby drive had been just ahead when he turned to her, and she had a fearful moment when she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he took her hand and squeezed it as he said, “Don’t enjoy yourself too much tomorrow night, Sassy. I fear, Miss Delleson … well, she is I think self-centered and just the sort to play on your kind nature.”

  “Oh—then you heard Sophy’s remarkable invitation?” Sassy tried to make light of it.

  “Yes, yes, I did. I—I must say, I don’t like the marquis or the way he looks at you …” His voice trailed off.

  “The way he looks at me? Why, James, he scarcely looked at me all evening. His eyes were on ladies far more in his class and to his taste.”

  “You are, of course, an innocent. Just be careful among the beau monde of Bristol. They could tear a child like you to shreds,�
� James said bitterly.

  “Why, James, so harsh?” She wondered if that was what had happened to him. Had he been rejected by the society he wished to enter?

  “I have reason to be.” His voice was hard. “I have age on you, my dear, and experience.”

  “But are not these people, or at least many of them, under your care?” she asked, surprised.

  “My care? My dear girl, I am but a lowly country doctor with little other than my degree to recommend me. The ton of Bristol are looked after by a doctor whose background is exceptional, whose medical degree was taken many, many years ago, and whose name carries a connection to their own set.” He shook his head, and a short, derisive laugh escaped his lips. “But never mind. Just remember, Sassy, who they are and how they can hurt you.”

  Sassy sighed but did not offer a reply. Some of what he said made sense to her. She had seen people of consequence thoughtlessly hurt people of a lesser standing. But she wasn’t in a position to worry about that sort of thing. After all, she was a tutor at Netherby Halls and would not forget that in her dealings with the heady gentry.

  On top of this was the fact that something very odd, perhaps even sinister, was going on at Netherby, though she hadn’t any idea what it could be. This thought reminded her that she needed to catch Delia alone and have a talk that just might enlighten her.

  Her thoughts drifted through her mind until they drifted away. She fell asleep, deeply, soundly …

  And then, she was awake, or was she?

  He, the marquis, was there, in her room—her room at Netherby. She must be asleep. This had to be a dream, but it felt so real. He stood there before her, but how could that be?

  Gloriously naked, with his manhood at full attention, the marquis was bent now over the side of her bed as he whispered her name. His eyes were deep blue and full with his desire.