The Last of Lady Lansdown

by Shirley Kennedy

  Edwin Twimby’s eyes fluttered open. He tried to speak but the effort was too great and he shut his eyes again.

  Matthew squatted down beside him, his pale little face tight with worry. “He’s feeling poorly today.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Meg, “I’m afraid this isn’t one of his better days.”

  Jane said, “Perhaps I should come back—”

  “Mercy, no.” Meg pulled a chair back from the table. “Do sit down, your ladyship, and I will get you that buttermilk.”

  Jane sat at the table, feeling awkward, uncomfortable and very much aware the living conditions here were not as wonderful as her chambermaid would have her think. After Meg brought the buttermilk, she seated herself, cuddling little Molly on her lap. Jane nodded at the sick man. “If you don’t mind my asking, what does the doctor say?”

  “The doctor came but once, ma’am. He said Father had a cancer in his stomach and there was nothing we could do except give him laudanum to ease the pain. That’s what I’ve been doing, but lately the pain is getting worse. He needs more and more laudanum.”

  Matthew still squatted on the floor beside his father. “The laudanum is just about gone, Meg. You said we didn’t have money for more.”

  “Shush, Matthew.” Meg turned to Jane. “My goodness, I don’t mean to inflict our problems upon you. We’ll find a way. I’m sure.”

  Sensing Meg’s embarrassment, Jane searched for a change in subject. “You mentioned you had another brother, Jeremy. Does he live here, too?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “My brother got transported,” said Matthew.

  “Matthew!” Meg squeezed her eyes shut. “It’s hard to keep things private when you’ve got a little brother who blabbers all the time.”

  “Jeremy shot a partridge.” Matthew seemed oblivious to his sister’s annoyance and eager to tell. “The sheriff caught him, and the earl had him transported to Australia for seven years.”

  “Just for shooting a partridge?” Jane asked.

  “Matthew’s right, I’m afraid. Jeremy trespassed in the earl’s forest. Of course, the earl holds all the sporting rights, so my brother clearly broke the law.”

  Jane shook her head in disbelief. “Even so, the punishment seems excessive.”

  The irrepressible Matthew spoke again. “The crops weren’t good that year, and we were hungry. That’s why Jeremy did it, just to get us some food. I miss him a lot.”

  “I’m sure you do, Matthew.” Jane was sick at heart. “I cannot speak for my late husband, but it appears to me it was wrong of him to do such a thing.”

  “Don’t feel bad. You’re not responsible, and what’s done is done.” Meg’s face brightened. “We get along quite well. I intend to start the garden again. We’ve got eggs from the chickens and milk and butter from the cows. I do miss Jeremy, though. When our father got sick, he took over and kept the farm running. Now that he’s gone, and Mother’s gone too, it’s up to me, and some days,” her shoulders slumped, “I find it hard to keep going.” She straightened and hugged the little girl in her lap. “Well, listen to me! I should be counting my blessings instead of dumping all my problems upon a fine lady like you.”

  “How do you manage? I mean, how can you work at Chatfield Court and then keep all this going, too?”

  “Mrs. Stanhope has been more than kind. I get there at five in the morning to light the fires, take up the breakfasts, empty the slops and such. Then she lets me go back home. That’s when I cook breakfast and see to little Molly here, and see that the boys get to their chores. Later in the day, I go back to the manor to haul bath water up the stairs and the like. It keeps me busy, but I manage.”

  Jane noticed Meg’s red, roughened hands. “You even work in the fields.”

  “That, too.” Meg gave Jane an understanding smile, as if she knew exactly what her visitor must be thinking. She proudly raised her chin. “Don’t be shocked and don’t feel sorry for me. God decides our place in this world, and I know mine.”

  “Of course.” Jane understood that Meg had her pride and was asking for neither help nor sympathy. She picked up her glass of buttermilk and took a sip. “Mmm, delicious. I suspect it’s very, very fresh.”

  “Just churned this morning.” Meg was clearly glad to move on to another subject.

  They chatted for a while, Jane thoroughly enjoying herself and knowing she had found a new friend. “Come back soon,” Meg called when she left.

  “I will.” Jane recalled the earl had taken laudanum from time to time. Surely there must be some left. She suspected Granny used it, too. Of course, no one had the indelicacy to mention that laudanum was another name for tincture of opium, especially when the crafty old lady claimed she used it for medicinal purposes only, for her shakes and ague. At any rate, Jane resolved to find some laudanum and give it to Meg tomorrow. That was the least she could do to help relieve her poor father’s suffering.

  Chapter 9

  When Jane returned home, she intended to go straight to her bedchamber to bathe and change to her mourning clothes. Instead, her mother met her in the entry hall wearing a grim expression.

  “Jane, you must come into the drawing room at once. You will never guess what that woman has done.”

  Uh-oh. She had to mean Beatrice. Jane followed her mother into the drawing room wondering what dastardly deed her sister-in-law had committed now.

  After Mama shut the drawing room doors, she turned to face her daughter. “I am very upset.”

  “What has she done?”

  “Beatrice ordered Griggs to move her husband’s things into the earl’s bedchamber. How dare she! James is not even the earl yet.”

  Was that all? Jane was not nearly as upset as her mother. “It’s not all that bad. After all, the room has been empty since Arthur died. Let James have it. Besides, you know very well he will be the new earl, so in reality what difference does it make if he moves in early?”

  “What difference? Beatrice Elton is taking over the whole household now, this minute. I am horrified.”

  Jane placed a soothing hand on her mother’s shoulder. “I can understand your concern, but really, we must get accustomed to our new station in life. Try to look at the bright side. When we move to the dower house, we’ll be away from Beatrice. Won’t that be wonderful? Then we won’t give a fig what goes on in this drafty old place.”

  “That’s not all.” Unmoved by Jane’s attempt to placate, Mama shook her head regretfully. “I wish it were but it’s not.”

  “There’s something else?”

  “There most assuredly is. Brace yourself. That woman has moved herself into your bedchamber. The servants just finished carrying everything you own to that smaller room at the end of the hall. So now what do you say?” Mama glared accusingly. “Do you still think we must just become accustomed to it?”

  Jane stared at her mother. When she found her voice, she sputtered for a moment before finally managing to gasp, “She ... took ... my ... bedchamber?”

  “Go up and see for yourself.”

  “I will in a minute, but first I need to sit down.” Numb with shock, Jane sank to one of the sofas. As her wits returned, she tried to think what to do. “I really don’t want a confrontation with Beatrice, but on the other hand—”

  “On the other hand, where will it end? How long before Millicent and I are turned out of our rooms, relegated to the servants’ quarters? I wouldn’t put it past her. What about your grandmother? What will Beatrice do to a poor old lady who cannot defend herself? Throw her out in the snow?”

  Jane refrained from mentioning that this was summer and there wasn’t any snow. Her mother had a point, though. Where would it end? To what lengths would Beatrice go? She arose from the sofa. “Enough is enough. I shall go right upstairs and talk to her.”

  Mama frowned. “What about your mourning clothes? You really should change from that blue riding habit and—”

  “The devil with what I’m wearing. Right now I don’t care and nei
ther should you.”

  Sheer, unadulterated anger carried Jane up the grand staircase and down the wide gallery to what had been her bedchamber. She knocked firmly on the door. “Beatrice? I’m coming in.” She swung the door wide, entered and found Beatrice sitting at her dressing table. Bruta stood behind her, dressing her hair.

  “What are you doing here?” Jane inquired of her lady’s maid.

  Bruta glared. “I was summoned by Mrs. Elton, madam.”

  “Oh, dear,” Beatrice said in her sweet, high-pitched, voice. She had yet to take her eyes off her image in the mirror. “I didn’t think you would mind, my dear. Bruta is such a gem when it comes to fixing hair. I thought we could at least share her until you leave. Then, of course, you realize she’ll be staying on with me, since, after all, the earl paid her salary and the new earl will do the same. You know, what with my new social obligations, I shall need a lady’s maid full-time.” Beatrice took up a comb and touched it to one of the little sausage curls that encircled her forehead. “Make this one a little tighter, Bruta.” Her eyes were still fastened on the mirror. “Is there anything else, Jane?”

  Much as she wished to be rid of Bruta, Jane found Beatrice’s theft of the woman absolutely galling. She allowed a swell of anger to pass. “Leave us, Bruta.”

  For once the surly lady’s maid looked slightly taken aback. “But Mrs. Elton—”

  “I said leave and I mean right now.”

  Bruta left without another word. Beatrice dropped her comb and swiveled her head to look at Jane. “Must you sound so harsh?”

  Good. She had gotten Beatrice’s full attention. “I want you to listen carefully to what I have to say.”

  The older woman turned in her chair to face her. “Well, my goodness—”

  “Forget about ‘my goodness.’ ” Jane vowed to keep her voice well under control. She would not sound angry, outraged or wounded. She would simply talk in as straightforward a manner as possible and give her sister-in-law the facts. “You have just taken over my bedchamber without any warning. Instead you took possession while I was out riding. That is sneaky and despicable.”

  Beatrice’s gray eyes opened wide, regarding her with innocent incredulity. She opened her pouty lips. “I—”

  “Don’t interrupt. I shall let you get away with it this time. In fact, I’ll even not protest your moving James into the earl’s chambers when you know very well he doesn’t belong there yet.” The words flowed from her mouth as smoothly as she hoped they would. What a pleasure to let them out. She put her hands on her hips. “But that is all, Beatrice. Do you understand? Until James is officially the heir, and thus entitled to call himself the Earl of Lansdown, you will do nothing more to usurp my authority. My mother, sister and grandmother will remain where they are. Don’t even think of switching their rooms. Do you understand?”

  “Well, mercy me, of course.” Beatrice’s look of innocence was positively angelic. “I was only trying to do what was convenient for everyone.”

  “I do not find it ‘convenient’ to have my room taken away. Furthermore, find your own lady’s maid. I shall not be sharing Bruta.” There. She’d had her say. She dropped her hands from her hips and prepared to leave. “Have I made myself clear?”

  “I hate to see you so upset.” Despite the sweet smile she maintained, Beatrice’s eyes hardened and filled with dislike.

  Jane’s first impulse was to reply that she was not in the least upset, but she caught herself. That would sound defensive—just as Beatrice intended. Instead, she sternly warned, “Don’t forget what I told you,” and turned to leave.

  “Any news yet? Wasn’t today the day?”

  “Go to blazes.”

  “God bless you, dear,” Beatrice called as Jane shut the door behind her.

  God’s blood, what an awful woman! Jane marched along the gallery to her new room, head held high. She felt good. She had accomplished what she set out to do. Beatrice would make no further aggressive moves until all was settled. On the other hand ...

  To what lengths would her sister-in-law go to become the next Countess of Lansdown? A chill swept over her. If she really was carrying the earl’s heir, she had better watch out.

  Her new room wasn’t so bad. The furnishings were not quite as elegant, but adequate enough, and she still had a lovely view of the river. She would make do and not complain. After all, this was only temporary until ...

  She checked again. Nothing. Surely tomorrow.

  Later in the day, Millicent came to see Jane’s new bedchamber. After looking around, she perched herself on the bed. “It’s not so bad. Is there any news? I don’t suppose—?”

  “Not yet. You will be one of the first to know.”

  Millicent heaved a sigh. “Would you mind so very much if you were?”

  Jane sniffed with mild amusement. “If I were, the family’s problems would be solved, wouldn’t they?”

  “Mine would be, and Mama’s, too. I don’t want you to be unhappy. It seems that so much depends on whether or not you’re expecting. I can see your feelings are mixed.”

  “More than mixed, I’m afraid. I feel trapped. It appears I’m damned if I am and damned if I am not.”

  “I know how you feel, but it’s just so important to me. I don’t sleep well anymore. I lie awake in my bed for half the night thinking, what if I don’t have a dowry? How can I find a suitable husband without one? What if I end up a wrinkled old ape leader, everyone looking down on me because I couldn’t find a husband? Can you imagine a more horrible fate?”

  Millicent’s pretty little face appeared strained and pale. I didn’t even notice. So wrapped up with my own problems. Jane smiled reassuringly. “A beautiful young woman like you is sure to find a suitable husband. I don’t care what your dowry is. Even if you don’t find a husband, it’s not the end of the world.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’ve never had the need of a husband like I do.” Millicent smiled. “I was so astounded when you refused a second season. When you said you would rather stay home and ride Beauty than put up with all those vain London fops another minute.”

  “I meant it, too.”

  Millicent gave a sly glance. “I know someone who likes you very much.”

  “Who might that be?” As if she didn’t know.

  “Douglas Cartland. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you at dinner last night. I would swear he’s fallen in love with you. I suspect you like him, too.”

  “I do like him, but don’t count on him for husband material. I sense he’s not interested in marrying.”

  “Uh-oh, there goes another one.” Millicent gestured with her finger, crossing a name off an imaginary list.

  Jane smiled. “Speaking of eligible bachelors, why have you not considered Lord Rennie? He couldn’t keep his eyes off you last night.”

  “Oh, him.” Millicent tossed her bouncy blond curls. “He’s nice enough, I suppose, but not the kind of man I could ever fall in love with. I want a man who’s handsome and dashing, who will sweep me off my feet. I do not want a man with a pocked face, big ears and a namby-pamby manner.”

  “Don’t forget, there’s always America.”

  “I’ve changed my mind.” Millicent made a face. “At first, when I heard Papa’s letter, it seemed like a wonderful idea. I could see Papa again, make a fresh start. But underneath I’m just like Mama. I don’t want to set foot on one of those leaky boats, either, and sail into the unknown. No, I would be much better off staying right here where everything is familiar. Besides, I’ve heard those Americans are quite boorish. Give me a proper Englishman every time.”

  The next morning the rain prevented Jane from riding, leaving only one important chore for her to do—obtain the laudanum for Meg’s ailing father. She knew exactly where to find it: at the back of a drawer in a table beside Arthur’s bed. She planned to simply walk into the earl’s bedchamber and take it, but now that James had moved in, she wondered what she should do. Ask Griggs? No, she didn’t trust the butler. Ask
James? The man was such a weakling he would probably run to Beatrice to find out what to say.

  Or simply walk in and take the laudanum? Why not? After all, she was still the countess. First, she better make sure James was occupied elsewhere. She slipped downstairs, peeked into the library and spied her brother-in-law pouring himself a glass of port. The clock had not struck ten yet, but knowing James and his proclivity for drink, she was not surprised. She hastened back up, sped along the gallery to what was now his bedchamber and walked in. A weird feeling gripped her as she looked around. She had not set foot in this room since the night Arthur died. Her gaze fell upon the spot where he’d made the horrible noise and crashed to the floor ... Don’t think about it. She went to a mahogany table by the bed and pulled open the drawer. Had someone already taken the laudanum? She fumbled toward the back and, thank goodness, found the nearly-full bottle where it lay almost hidden. She pulled it out and quickly shut the drawer. As she did so, her gaze wandered to the spot where her late husband had lain ...

  “What are you doing in my bedchamber?”

  Her heart nearly jumped from her chest. Clutching the bottle she spun around. Oh, dear God, Arthur stood in the doorway, back from the dead. She froze in horror. Seconds passed before she realized her dead husband wasn’t standing there. It was his brother. She pressed her hand to her heart. “James, you frightened me.”

  “Do tell.” James stepped inside and closed the heavy oak door behind him. “Were you looking for me?”

  Uh-oh. He started to move toward her, wearing one of those sly, lecherous smiles she absolutely loathed. “I did not come to see you.” She held up the bottle. “I have need of this medicine that belonged to Arthur.”

  She moved toward the door, but he caught her arm. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart. Admit you came to see me. Admit you’ve been dying to get me alone.”