Simply Scandalous

by Tamara Lejeune

  Swale made a gesture of impatience. "Details, details."

  "A contract spells out the details of any agreement for easy reference, my lord." Benedict lifted the decanter and poured a glass of port. "Take marriage, for example."

  Swale's eyes widened as he attempted to appear innocent. 'Were we ... were we talking of marriage, Sir Benedict?"

  "I am talking of marriage, my lord. Deceptively simple, marriage, like the buying of cheese. A man and a woman discover a deep admiration and regard for one another. They pledge their feelings publicly; then before God and man, they are joined in holy matrimony. What could be simpler? And yet, the devil is in the details. Marriage is a legal contract between two parties. I would be a poor landlord if I allowed Mr. Quince to enter into a burdensome contract with you, my lord. After all, if he were to go to the trouble and expense of making two hundred cheeses and get nothing for it in the end, the poor man would be ruined."

  The baronet poured a second glass of port, and Swale accepted it gratefully. All this talk of marriage had made him thirsty. "All this talk of cheese is making me thirsty," he said with a shaky laugh.

  "In the same way," Benedict continued smoothly, "I would be a poor guardian of my sister's happiness if I allowed her to enter into a burdensome contract."

  Swale frowned in concentration. "But ... I don't wish to buy any cheese from your sister. My bargain is with Mr. Quince."

  "No, sir. Your bargain is with me," Benedict informed him. "But you have not touched your port, my lord. Can it be that the stories are true?"

  Swale started. "Stories?"

  "Would you prefer Madeira?"

  The time had come to seek wiser counsel. "No, thank you, Sir Benedict," he said, almost jumping to his feet. "In point of fact, what I need is the closet."

  Ignominiously, the Marquess of Swale quit the field.

  Juliet was waiting for him in the dark hallway outside her aunt's room. "Good God!" she whispered fiercely. "You nearly frightened the life out of me."

  "He suspects," said Swale, trying to gather up her hand.

  Impatiently, she snatched her hand away. "He certainly will suspect if he finds you here," she snapped. "You must go back down and drink port with my brother."

  "No, I think I'd much better hide," he retorted. "I can't drink the man's port and not tell him I'm in love with his bally sister. I won't do it."

  "Ginger-"

  "I'm not bloody Macchiavelli, you know!"

  "Steady on, my darling," she said quickly, soothingly, realizing that her coconspirator had been pushed to his limit.

  "This, Julie, is worse than cold soup. A secret engagement! I never in my life heard of anything so shabby. It would be better to elope. A good, honest elopement is just what we need."

  "Scotland? _l don't think," said Juliet hotly. She could just imagine the contempt that would follow her all her days if she eloped with Serena Calverstock's betrothed within days of the announcement in the Post. Not to mention the sandwich boards in Hyde Park! "I've had enough scandal, thank you. We must think of our families. Benedict would never forgive me."

  "My father would never forgive me either," he agreed woefully. "He believes in the nobility setting an example for the commoners, you know."

  "And my poor aunt," Juliet added with a faint smile. "Only imagine the pains in her legs if we eloped." She touched the side of his face. "You must be strong, my darling."

  "Couldn't we tell Aunt Elinor, at least?" he begged without much hope. "I shouldn't feel as much the snake in the grass-the anguis in herby-if someone in the household knew our secret."

  "Are you mad?" Juliet scoffed, but in the next instant, she felt a flash of inspiration. "Aunt Elinor has always been in favor of our marrying," she said thoughtfully. "She is our only possible ally since both my brothers detest you, and it will make her happier than words can express. Yes, I think we should tell Aunt Elinor."

  Swale followed her a little doubtfully into the room, remembering how that lady always seemed to develop headache in his presence. Lady Elkins was abed with a cold compress over her eyes, her back supported by a mountain of pillows. A lace cap covered her hair, and a heavy shawl was wrapped around her shoulders. She wore a voluminous robe of coppercolored silk, and on her feet were thick, black stockings. Only two or three candles lit the large room.

  "Aunt Elinor?"Juliet called softly.

  "Wicked, ungrateful girl," whined Lady Elkins pathetically. "I have been lying here in the most excruciating pain for a full twenty minutes, not that you care two straws for that. Bring my vinaigrette. Nothe hartshorn."

  Juliet sat on the edge of the bed and took her aunt's hand gently in her own.

  "You handle me so roughly," complained Lady Elkins. "I am too weak even to lift my head."

  "I have brought you something better than hartshorn, my dear aunt," Juliet whispered.

  "Pray, do not scream at me, miss. Is that a young lady's voice or a trumpet blast? Oh, how my head aches! I expect Mrs. Oliphant's card party would have been too much for me. Indeed, I should not have gone, Juliet, even if you had been invited. When I think I might have been the aunt of a marchioness-! You are far too particular, my dear. What does it signify if the man has a face out of a grotto? What does it matter that he is a red-haired ape of a man? He has twenty thousand a year! "

  Swale could not hear this with universal pleasure.

  "My dear aunt," Juliet said quickly, "would you be very pleased to call him your nephew?"

  "Certainly not," she bitterly replied. "The stupid man has made himself so disagreeable to everyone that I cannot blame you for refusing him. I wish he would go away and leave us all in peace."

  "I'm very sorry to hear you say that, Aunt, because I am secretly engaged to him."

  "Oh, don't tease me," moaned the widow. "You wicked, wicked girl. My heart cannot bear the strain."

  Juliet peeled the compress from her aunt's eyes. "But it is quite true, Aunt Elinor. His lordship is here with me now. His lordship very much wishes to be your nephew."

  Lady Elkins regarded Swale almost with horror, as though fearing he might be a ghost.

  "Hullo, Aunt Elinor," he greeted her. "Direct from the grotto, as you see."

  Lady Elkins spoke cautiously. "You're really going to marry Juliet? You're not toying with me?"

  "Our engagement is secret at the moment," said Juliet, "for obvious reasons. But his lordship said we must tell Lady Elkins. Lady Elkins will be our ally. We must have Lady Elkins's approval and advice. Lady Elkins is the only person in the world who can help us."

  "Oh!" Lady Elkins cried, her bosom beginning to heave. She was deeply flattered to be drawn into such an important secret. "My approval? Of course you have it, my dear children! Oh, you dear, sweet boy!" she cried, throwing her arms wide to Swale. "I am speechless with delight! Words cannot express my happiness! I do not know what to say! Twenty thousand a year!"

  "Do you feel well enough to come down, Aunt Elinor?"Juliet gently suggested. "It's so difficult with Benedict glaring at us the whole time."

  "I'll carry you downstairs if you like," Swale offered.

  Lady Elkins was indignant. "Young man, I am perfectly capable of walking downstairs! Certainly, I will come down. Juliet, fetch me my good shawl-no, no, the cashmere from India. And my silk slippers. Juliet embroidered these for me, my lord. Is that not exquisite workmanship? An E on each toe for Elinor Elkins. Isn't that clever?"

  'Very," Swale affirmed, not in the least distressed that his future wife possessed one very silly aunt. It was pleasant to meet someone in this house who did not regard him with the flaying eye. He offered her his arm.

  Juliet ran down before them and was engaged in opening the piano and setting out the music when Sir Benedict found her. "Is Swale in here?"

  Juliet cheekily stooped to check underneath the piano before answering, "I don't see him."

  "Where's he gotten to?" Benedict looked at his sister suspiciously. "Are you wearing rouge?"

  "Certai
nly not. Only old ladies and opera dancers wear rouge."

  While not entirely convinced, Benedict did not pursue the matter. "Look here, Juliet. I must speak to you. I can remain silent no longer. Cary tells me you have received an offer of marriage? Is this true?"

  Juliet was startled. Cary could not possibly be aware of her arrangement with Swale since it had only been decided just before dinner. Benedict must be referring to Horatio's offer. "I have received an offer of marriage," she told Benedict. "But I have decided I cannot accept."

  "Thank God," said Benedict. "I could not stand by and let you marry a man you do not love."

  "I have no intention of marrying a man I do not love," Juliet replied rather crossly.

  "I was afraid that your recent trials might have made you vulnerable," said Benedict. "It is hard, I know, to be snubbed by your friends, but that hardship would seem as nothing to the abject misery of a loveless marriage. Have you told your suitor you will not have him?"

  Juliet sighed. "He begged me to take some time to consider his offer, or I should have given him my answer immediately. I daresay he is assured of a very different answer than he will receive, but I cannot help that."

  "You have greatly relieved my mind."

  "If I ever do come to you and tell you that I am engaged to be married," Juliet said slowly, "you will know it is because I am in love and for no other reason.

  "Yes, yes, of course," said Benedict, smiling at her. "You have no idea of the weight that has been lifted from my heart. Yes, I daresay his arrogance has led him to believe you will have him, Juliet. When do you give him your answer?"

  "Tomorrow."

  "Good," said Benedict. "There is nothing to be gained from drawing this thing out." He went on almost sheepishly, "I don't suppose I could persuade you to retire very early this evening? With Cary gone and my aunt indisposed, I can scarcely leave you alone with Swale, and you know how insupportable I find his society. I had much rather be going over my accounts in my study."

  Juliet was spared the embarrassment of answering by the arrival of her aunt. Bundled in a shawl, Lady Elkins arrived, clinging to the arm of Lord Swale like a burr.

  "Look who I found," Swale said proudly.

  "My dear aunt, you should be in bed," said Benedict. "You are unwell."

  "Nonsense," she replied. "All I needed was a little rest. I'm fit as a fiddle now. His lordship has promised me an evening of music. Music is just what I need to carry away all the pains in my limbs. An evening of cards would be insupportable, of course, but music is always delightful."

  "There, Benedict,"Juliet whispered to her brother as Swale settled Lady Elkins into a comfortable chair with a footrest. "Now you may go to your accounts any time you like." She looked back at him innocently as he studied her with narrowed eyes.

  "Are you quite sure you're not wearing rouge?"

  "Quite sure."

  Lady Elkins took her knitting onto her lap, while Juliet slipped a shawl over her own bare shoulders and stood next to the piano, turning the pages for Swale as he began to play. His lordship concentrated on the piece, and Benedict was forced to admit the man was a gifted musician. The baronet quietly withdrew before the second movement, wishing them all a pleasant evening.

  Juliet collapsed on the piano seat next to Swale, who blew out his breath as if he had been holding it for an hour. "He doesn't suspect anything," she assured him quickly. "He was afraid I was going to marry Horatio. He was very relieved when I told him I wasn't."

  "That would be a burdensome contract," said Swale, considerably cheered. "He don't like Horatio either? That shows some good sense."

  "Of course it does. And I swore to him if I ever did marry, it would be for love." She leaned across him and smoothed the pages of the score. "Better go on playing now, Ginger. If he doesn't hear music, he may think your hands are straying."

  He grinned at her, his hands moving lightly over the keys. "Tonight, my love..."

  "Oh, yes?"

  His voice dipped lower and lower. "'Ere the sooty winged bat hath flown night's yawn, there shall be done a deed of dreadful note.' Points on for Shakepeare?"

  Juliet grimaced at the mangled quotation. "One point for trying, but two points off for mucking it up, I'm afraid. But what are you planning to do?"

  "Be-eth thou innocent of the knowledge, dearest Chuck, till thou applaudeth the deed," he told her solemnly, making her convulse with laughter.

  "What is so funny?" Cary Wayborn suddenly demanded from the doorway.

  His surly disapproval had nothing like the effect of Benedict's cold contempt. Juliet stood up and faced him defiantly. "You're drunk," she said coldly. "You've been carousing in the village tavern, I suppose?"

  "And the society there was infinitely better than the society here," he replied rudely.

  "Thank you, sir," his sister responded tartly. "You had better go to bed before Benedict sees you."

  "Indeed, my love," said Lady Elkins in a more gentle tone. "You do look peaked."

  "I will go to bed," Cary declared, sweeping his arm up in a grand gesture worthy of Napoleon himself. "I will conserve my strength. I will sleep the sleep of the innocent, while he sleeps the sleep of the guilty." He pointed at Swale, who stared doggedly at his music. "Good night, my lord," he added, executing a bow with difficulty.

  "Go to bed, Cary," Juliet snapped. "Go to bed before you fall over."

  "You defend him!" Cary cried, beginning to slur his words. "That'sh rich. He'sh made you the talk of London, my dear shister. They are placing bets on whether or not Swale will swucceed in marrying you."

  "What?"Juliet and Swale cried at once.

  "Look at the innocence on his face," Cary sneered. "One would almost believe he knew nothing whatever about it. It was hish friend Devize that started the pool."

  "What are the odds?" Swale asked curiously, but Juliet quelled him with a glance.

  "You see, Julie! The fiend don't deny it!"

  "I can't help what they are betting on in LondonI have been here," Swale pointed out. "I haven't bet on anything."

  "As though my sister would ever make such a degrading marriage merely for worldly advantage! " said Cary. "That is what I told Budgie and Lord Dulwich when I saw them in the thillage. I will swoot Shale before I let him marry my sister."

  "I'm sure he doesn't mean it, my lord," said Lady Elkins.

  Juliet suddenly felt quite depressed. Tomorrow, the announcement of Swale's engagement to Serena would appear in the London papers. That obstacle would have to be removed before she could even think of how she would make her brothers accept her own engagement to Swale, but right now, it all seemed impossible.

  "Go to bed, Cary, please," she said wearily.

  Satisfied that he had broken up their gaiety, Gary went away.

  "I swear, Julie, if he weren't your brother-" Swale muttered.

  "I know," she sighed. "Suddenly, I'm very tired. Would you mind awfully if I went to bed now? Tomorrow is going to be rather a big day for us."

  "Not yet," he said, seizing her hands. "In just a few moments, you will hear your obnoxious brother give an impression of a rooster laying an egg."

  Cary's piercing scream brought Benedict from his study. Aunt Elinor complained violently that her heart had just burst, and Juliet let her head fall into her hands in despair.

  "Not so much a rooster laying an egg," Swale said critically, "as a pig trying on a hat."

  "What did you do?" Juliet asked sternly.

  Cary himself answered, bursting through the doors of the drawing room like an avenging angel, with Benedict not far behind him. Cary was wild-eyed, he was dressed in his nightshirt, and his hair was standing on end. "Newts! " he roared. "That blackguard has put newts in my bed. Dozens of slimy, wriggling, nasty newts! I will teach you, sir, to put newts in my bed."

  `Juliet!" cried Benedict at once. "How could you do such a thing to your brother?"

  Cary blinked in surprise.

  "Me?" Juliet was indignant.


  "Don't deny it, Miss," said her eldest brother, glaring at her. "I caught you red-handed in the hall with the bucket in your hand! At the time, I assumed I'd caught you before you had committed your crime. But now I realize the truth-you were just finishing up."

  "Oh," said Juliet. "It was only a harmless little prank. W-welcome home, Cary!" She laughed gaily. "Nothing says welcome home like a merry prank."

  Cary gritted his teeth. "I beg your pardon, Swale," he said curtly. "As for you-!" He shook his fist at his sister. "I'll take your room since you have made mine uninhabitable. How is that for a merry prank?"

  He turned on his heel and strode off.

  "I suggest we all go to bed," said Benedict. "You may board with your aunt tonight, Miss Juliet, after you have rid my house of newts. Shame on you!"

  `Just a moment, Sir Benedict," Swale interrupted. "Whatever happened to one's being innocent until proven guilty? Miss Wayborn is entirely innocent. I put the newts in Cary's bed."

  "You cannot protect her by lying, my lord," said Benedict. "I saw her with my own eyes."

  "Cary put a dead rat under my pillow," said Swale. "Naturally, I retaliated."

  "No, he didn't," said Juliet, wincing. "Idid that."

  "What?"

  "I put the rat under your pillow," said Juliet miserably, unable to meet Swale's blazing green eyes. "You said no newts, Benedict, but you never said a word about rats."

  "An unforgivable lapse, as it turns out," Benedict murmured.

  "I didn't know it was your pillow," Juliet went on, turning to Swale. "Cary's letter said he was bringing someone home. I thought he meant Stacy Calverstock. I thought if I put him in Hastings and put a rat under his pillow, he'd go away again the next morning."

  "You have been very busy, I see," said Benedict severely.

  "I thought it was Cary that put the rat under my pillow," said Swale, frowning.

  "I'm sure it was all a merry prank, my lord," said Lady Elkins desperately. `Juliet has a very lively sense of humor. Not everyone appreciates it, of course, but here we laugh all day long."

  "I am not laughing," said Benedict, rather unnecessarily Juliet thought. Rather obvious that he was not laughing. `Juliet, you will rid my house of all newts and all rats without any help from the servants. Then you will go to bed. You will not ride your horse for two weeks. Is that clear?"