“Of course!” she called back over her shoulder. Rubdown indeed. Jupiter tossed his head back, whinnying his delight at being out of his stall. Damnation! If she could just manage to hang onto the back of this cursed animal, all would go well, exactly as she planned.
A raindrop splashed her forehead. She gazed tenderly at her little brother as he rode beside her. “A little rain won’t hurt us!” she called gaily. “We shall go for a nice, long ride. Won’t this be fun?”
*
Rained poured, thunder clapped, lightening lit the late afternoon sky as, hours later, they came back from their ride. Alexander, drenched and shivering, had long since ceased to speak, but simply hung onto the saddle, his face pale and drawn.
Morris was nowhere to be seen as they brought their horses to a halt in front of the stables. Now how am I supposed to get off this wretched horse? she wondered. It stood seventeen hands. Just jump off, she supposed. She jumped and landed, splat! into a puddle. Odious beast.
Less than an hour into the ride, Rissa had decided maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all. She was freezing cold, as was Alexander. The rain had started coming down in buckets, and that was before they got lost. It had taken her forever to find the right path back, all the while, Alexander coughing and hacking, and whining about how he wanted to go home.
She could hardly wait to get back to her cosy bed chamber, to the warmth of her fireplace. Picking herself up from the puddle, she saw Alexander slide from his horse, moving ever so slowly, as if he were stiff from the cold. “Come, we shall run to the house,” she called.
“No!” Alexander shouted back, his thin voice barely audible over the sound of the storm. “First we must take care of the horses.”
“Morris will see to that. Come along.”
“No! We cannot let the horses stay out.”
Little brat. “All right then, we shall get them inside.”
They led Jupiter and Captain, dripping wet, shivering, and still with their saddles on, into the stables and put them in their stalls. “There, that’s enough,” she said. “Let’s us be off.”
Looking at her little brother, she began to worry. He was white as a ghost and shivering violently. “But Clarinda,” he protested through chattering teeth, “you know we must take their saddles off and rub them down.”
“That’s Morris’s job.”
“But he’s not here.” Alexander looked desperate. “Can’t you see Jupiter’s cold and shaking, and so’s Captain. We must rub them down, Clarinda. Papa will kill us if we don’t.”
“Papa won’t be back ‘til morning,” she told him. She’d had no idea Alexander would look so awful. She must get him into the house and get him warm. “We are going to the house this instant,” she told her brother firmly, “then I shall go find Morris and he can take care of the horses.”
Rissa’s remorse grew as they hurried through the driving rain toward the main portico. She hadn’t thought that Alexander might have a relapse. She hadn’t thought it would rain, or that they would lose their way. At least Mama and Papa weren’t home. There, indeed, was a blessing. All she needed to do was get Alexander to his room and into dry clothes, get her own dry clothes, and then sneak into Clarinda’s room and put the necklace and riding gown back.
But this is going to work, she assured herself. She pictured the scene next morning, when Papa discovered Clarinda had gone riding in the rain, not only taking along his precious little son, but riding Jupiter, his sacred, sacrosanct, stupid horse. He would be absolutely livid. Clarinda could deny it all she pleased, but how could she prove she hadn’t done it? Especially when Alexander said it was Clarinda who took him for the ride, and Morris said Clarinda was the one who had ordered him to saddle Jupiter.
Perfect! Her little scheme wasn’t so bad after all.
They reached the front entryway and ran up the steps. At the top, she heard the sounds of hooves and jangling harness. It sounded like … oh, no! It sounded like a coach. Rissa stared, paralyzed. Mama and Papa must have cut short their visit to Cousin Clara’s. They were coming home.
*
In the front entryway, water dripped from Rissa’s skirt and puddled on the marble floor as she cowered before her mother. Never, in all her twenty years had she seen Mama so angry. “But, Mama, you don’t understand,” she said, trembling, tears running down her face.”
“I understand well enough,” Mama shrieked, her features contorted with anger. “How dare you take Alexander for a ride when I forbade him to go out? The boy is sick! You know how fragile he is. If something should happen to my one and only son…!” Mama took in a deep breath, attempting to get control of herself. In a slightly less frenetic voice, she continued, “This is the last straw, Clarinda. I shall tell Papa he should pack you off to North Wales immediately, this very moment.”
Papa, who had carried Alexander up to his bed chamber, came hurrying back down. “The nanny has him,” he said to Mama. “Perhaps it’s not too serious. Some hot soup, a poultice of verbena on his chest, he’ll be fine.”
Mama glared at him. “You must send her off to Grandfather Montagu’s this instant.”
Yes, but not now! Rissa screamed silently. Not until she’d had a chance to switch the necklace back and become Rissa again. She waited, her heart in her mouth, for Papa’s response.
“Let’s not be too hasty, Edwina. Doubtless Clarinda didn’t realize it was going to rain — “
“That’s not the point,” Mama declared. “Lord knows, the girl’s been given enough chances. Now I want her out of my sight.”
“Let us calm ourselves,” Papa said in a reasonable tone. “No need to fly into the boughs and do something rash.”
Manning appeared from the back of the house, followed by Morris. He addressed Papa. “The groom would like a word with you, m’lord.”
Soggy hat in hand, Morris stepped forward. “M’lord, uh … uh…”
“Well, speak up, man,” Papa said gently.
Morris gathered his courage. “I be no teller of tales, sir, but this is about Jupiter and I thought you ought ter know.”
Papa’s benign expression vanished. “What about Jupiter?”
“Well, m’lord, she — ” he inclined his head toward Rissa ” — took Jupiter out on that ride and when she brought him back, she just left him, sir, not rubbin’ him down. Him and Captain. The horse was shiverin’ when I found him in his stall, sir, as was Captain.”
“Are they all right now?”
“Well, I’ve got me boys rubbin’ ‘em down now, but you know how horses is, sir, especially when they be in weather like this and then they ain’t rubbed down proper.”
“I do indeed,” Papa said with on-the-surface calmness, but Rissa could almost see his gritted teeth. He shot Rissa a glance that was so flat, hard, and passionless it made her blood run cold. “Thank you, Morris. You may go now. And when you get back to the stables, tell Timmons not to unharness the horses, but to bring the coach back around.”
Papa watched the servants leave. Then he turned to Rissa, glowering with rage. “You dared ride my horse, Clarinda?”
“I didn’t think you would mind. Papa, please — “
“And you failed to give Jupiter a rubdown?”
“Well, but you see, I thought Morris — “
“God’s blood!” yelled Papa, erupting like a volcano. “Nobody mistreats my horse, even you, Clarinda. You’re no daughter of mine and you’re going to North Wales. Now! This instant!”
“Oh, Papa, no!” Rissa cried. Sheer, black fright swept over her. This wasn’t the way she had planned things at all. Her heart pounding wildly, she flung herself at Papa’s feet and gripped the hem of his coat. “Please, Papa, don’t send me away! I am not Clarinda, I am — ” Reality dawned, but too late. How on earth could she explain?
“Not Clarinda?” Papa asked. He bent, ripped her necklace off, and examined the gold filigreed “C.” “Not Clarinda, eh?” he said, shaking the necklace under her nose. “Then pray tell
me, why are you wearing this ‘C’?”
“I can explain.”
“Then explain,” said Papa. “But be quick. You’re leaving as soon as Timmons brings the coach ‘round.”
“But I’m cold, and my clothes are wet.”
“Your brother was cold, too, and Jupiter and Captain, but did you care? No!” A new surge of rage seemed to strike him. Blindly he strode across the marble floor and struck his fist hard against the paneled wall. “I want you out of my sight!”
Dear God, he couldn’t mean this. Desperation seized her as she begged, “Please, Papa, I really am Rissa, the good twin. You cannot send me away.”
Mama spoke up. “Indeed, if we thought you were Rissa, we might let you stay, but you’re not. Rissa would not dream of acting in this fashion. This is a continuation of your abysmal behavior, Clarinda.”
Papa stepped back, folded his arms, and glared down at her. “I shall ask again. If you are truly Rissa, what were you doing with Clarinda’s necklace around your neck?”
“I…” Oh, how could she explain? “It … it was a joke, Papa. I was playing a joke on Clarinda, but I guess it was not a very good one, and I’m very, very sorry.”
Papa looked beyond her, to where Estelle, who had no doubt been on the landing listening to every word, was coming down the stairs. “Come here, Estelle,” he said. “You’ve always been able to tell the twins apart. Tell me which twin this is.” He looked down at the cowering girl. “On your feet!”
Rissa’s heart lifted as she arose, knees shaking, and looked, silently pleading, into the lady maid’s eyes. Estelle would set Papa straight. She could indeed tell her and Clarinda apart.
“Of course, m’lord, I shall be happy to tell you weech is weech,” said Estelle. Rissa stood shaking as Estelle examined her carefully, taking her time, her gaze sweeping over her from head to toe.
Suddenly something in Estelle’s expression — was it that little quirk at the corner of her mouth? — caused Rissa to be seized by a fearful, desperate feeling. Perhaps I should been a little nicer to Estelle. She remembered the many times she had teased Clarinda for saying please and thank you to a mere lady’s maid. Clarinda never snapped at Estelle, and, to Rissa’s disgust, had always treated the lady’s maid almost like an equal. Servants were made to be yelled at, everyone knew. But still, perhaps she could have been a little nicer.
There was a strange, vengeful gleam in Estelle’s eye, as if she were remembering Rissa’s past behavior. With great deliberation, she finally spoke.
“What have you done now, Clarinda?”
*
When Clarinda awoke from her long nap, she had the eerie feeling something was wrong. She was not sure what, exactly, it was just that the house didn’t sound right. There were not the usual noises of servants bustling about, just utter stillness, until … is that someone yelling? Hurriedly Clarinda flung off her coverlet and slipped off the bed, noticing with relief that her headache was gone. She slipped into her dress, smoothed her hair, and decided to go downstairs to find out what was the matter.
Passing Alexander’s room, she saw the door was open. Hearing the boy coughing, she peeked inside. Alexander lay in bed, his face flushed with fever, his nanny hovering close by. Clarinda hurried to his bed.
“Oh, dear, you look sick, Alexander.”
He gave her a wan smile. “Not so very. I was riding Captain and it started to rain…”
Her little brother proceeded to relate the events of the day, ending with, “She told me she was you, Clarinda, but I knew she wasn’t, even if she did have your necklace on. I knew!”
“But why would she say she was me?”
Alexander shrugged. “I don’t know, but Mama and Papa are really mad at Rissa, only they think she’s you, and the coach is all hitched and Papa’s going to send her off to Grandfather Montague’s.”
“This very moment?” Clarinda asked, appalled. When Alexander nodded, she whirled around and hurried to the stairs.
Halfway down, at the curve of the staircase, Clarinda halted. Below was a sight she had never thought she’d see: Estelle smirking, Mama bristling, Papa shaking with rage. And Rissa! Her clothes were soggy and her hair straggling in a totally unfamiliar state of disarray. How strange to see the favored twin quaking before her parents, and in tears.
When Rissa saw Clarinda standing on the stairs she drew a sharp breath. “Clarinda!” she called, “please, please come down here and tell them who you are.”
Clarinda continued down the staircase, saying nothing, her mind in a whirl. Since childhood, she had suffered from the envy of her twin. Rissa had done so many dreadful things to her, she couldn’t remember them all. She most definitely remembered Jeffrey, though, and how Rissa had deliberately stolen him away. A blessing in disguise, she thought wryly, but she hadn’t thought so at the time. There were so many things, not only from when they were children, but recently. She’d had to take the blame when Cranmer kissed her. She’d suffered the consequences from Rissa’s impersonation of her at Lady Lynbury’s. And then there was the business of Rissa’s hiding the letter to Sara Sophia, and the heartbreaking promise she’d been compelled to make in order to save Sara Sophia.
And now this. Once again, Rissa had impersonated her, apparently with only one thought in mind: to get her into trouble. Serious trouble this time, judging from the absolutely furious expression on her father’s usually composed face. She didn’t know how, exactly, but apparently at long last Rissa had been caught in her tangle of lies and was about to be sent off to North Wales. How fitting!
And why did I allow her to do this to me? Clarinda thought back to all the times she had been a victim of this silly, foolish girl. She had been wrong to remain silent, thinking no one would believe her, nothing could be done. But she would not stay silent anymore. Rissa will never hurt me again.
With new-found courage, Clarinda reached the bottom of the stairs and looked at her sister, her mind churning with memories, a long-overdue realization, and a plan.
“What do you want me to say, Clarinda?” she asked.
Chapter 17
Upon hearing Clarinda’s affirmation that she was Rissa, Papa, pointed dramatically toward the door. “Out!” he ordered Rissa.
The sound of hooves and jangling harness announced Timmon’s arrival with the coach at the front portico. Now truly alarmed, Rissa cried, “No, Papa, no, she’s wrong! I am not Clarinda, I am Rissa.”
“Out!” Papa bellowed again.
Rissa’s defiant expression faded, replaced by sheer horror. “But I have no clothes, and I’m all wet, and I’m hungry.”
Papa addressed Estelle. “Go pack her valise, quickly. Just a few things should suffice. Where she’s going, she’ll have no need for fancy gowns.”
Rissa, her eyes wide with panic, turned to Clarinda. “Please, please, tell them who I am!”
“I have no idea what you mean,” Clarinda answered with an insolent, Rissa-like toss of her head.
“Yes, you do. Please help me,” Rissa wailed, “I’ll do anything. I don’t want to get sent off to Grandfather Montagu’s.”
“Anything? Such as releasing me from my promise?”
“Yes, yes, anything! I release you from your promise. Now, tell them!”
A world of pain and frustration lifted from Clarinda’s shoulders. Her ploy had worked. Rissa didn’t know, probably would never know, that she would never have gone through with such an underhanded deception, deserved though it might be. With a deeply relieved sigh, she addressed her parents. “I had a reason for saying I was Rissa, but I’m not, I am Clarinda. Rissa has done wrong, but I know you won’t send her away.” With an ironic smile, she added, “She’s the good twin.”
Clarinda waited for her parents to acknowledge her admission of the truth, but to her surprise, an expression of deep suspicion crossed Mama’s face. “I don’t believe you,” she exclaimed. “Can’t you see, m’lord? Our dear Rissa loves her sister so much she wants to shoulder the blame. You must not
let her.”
“I am not in the least deceived,” Papa agreed. He pointed again, glaring at Rissa. “To the coach! Your sister can tell all the lies she wants, but I know you’re Clarinda. The necklace proves it. Nothing has changed.”
Clarinda cried, “Papa, you’re wrong — “
“Silence! Not another word,” Papa roared.
“But Papa — ,” Rissa begged.
“Out of my sight! Be gone!”
Shocked into silence, Rissa slunk from the entryway, shoulders slumped in defeat, and into the waiting coach. Soon Estelle, attempting to look solemn but not succeeding very well, brought the hastily packed valise.
Soon after, Clarinda stared, astounded, as the coach and four rolled down the driveway, carrying “the good twin” to the farthest reaches of North Wales.
*
A pall hung over dinner that evening. At least Papa was in a slightly better mood, Clarinda noted, after he had assured himself that Jupiter had suffered no ill effects from Rissa’s neglect. Mama, too, was calmer. Alexander was comfortable and appeared no worse for his ride in the rain.
So far, Clarinda had said nothing. Better to wait until everyone had recovered from their shock over that dreadful scene in the entryway. As far as everyone still knew, she was Rissa.
Papa had remained silent until, over his claret, he looked at Clarinda and asked, “What was that business about releasing you from your promise?”
“It’s a long story, Papa.”
“Well, tell it.”
“I would be happy to, only…” Her parents would be absolutely horrified when they heard the truth, but they would have to hear it, and soon. She supposed now was as good a time as any. “Papa, I really am Clarinda. I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen. It was Rissa you sent away.”
Clarinda braced herself, waiting for her father’s astonished reaction, but instead, Papa offered her a forgiving smile. “You think I don’t know my own daughters?” he asked quietly. “I know very well whom I banished to Wales.”
The Rebellious Twin Page 23
