‘Oh, we can do better than that, M. Aminieux,’ beamed Eleanor. ‘We shall go and find her at once and arrange it.’
‘Quelle bonne idée, mademioselle,’ he nodded, scurrying after Eleanor.
‘Lady Madeleine,’ announced Eleanor as she breezed into the drawing-room to find the older woman sitting in a window seat reading. ‘The very person.’
Madeleine eyed her suspiciously.
‘I was just telling M. Aminieux,’ beamed Eleanor, beckoning to the man to enter, ‘that I am sure you will have time to meet his wife this week.’
Madeleine’s jaw dropped several inches.
‘Ah, Madame Aminieux is so looking forward to it, madame,’ informed the dancing master, wringing his hands together anxiously.
‘How delightful,’ smiled Eleanor sweetly. ‘I know that Lady Madeleine is very much looking forward to it too, monsieur. Now, if I’m not mistaken, Lady Madeleine, I do believe you are free on Thursday evening – the evening of Lady Thorpe’s ball which James has declined to attend.’
‘In- indeed,’ flustered Madeleine. ‘But I’m afraid, I have a, er-’
‘Perfect!’ cut in Eleanor. ‘Thursday it is then, monsieur,’ she confirmed, ushering the man out of the room. ‘Shall we say six o’ clock?’
The following day, the dowager, bored to distraction in her bed, demanded to be brought downstairs. A complicated operation ensued involving all the long-suffering footmen and two of the strongest gardeners. It took a little over an hour before she was safely deposited in the drawing-room and an additional five minutes before the bellowing of orders resumed.
‘Stevens, I shall require a tray of tea, some of cook’s fruit cake and the company of my nephew. Inform James that I wish to see him immediately.’
Eleanor picked up her book and, rising from the sofa, made to follow the servant. She had no desire to see James, let alone take tea with him. In fact, she had done her utmost to avoid him for several days now but, during the handful of times she had encountered him, it was obvious his mood continued to be as dark as ever. No sooner had Eleanor risen to her feet, though, than the dowager barked, ‘And where do you think you are going?’
‘To the garden, Godmother.’
‘Indeed you are not. I wish both you and James to bring me up to date with the latest happenings. We shall all take tea together.’
Eleanor’s spirits plummeted. ‘I’m afraid I am really not the person to ask. I have scarce left the house myself since you were taken ill.’
‘Well, in that case,’ sniffed the dowager, ‘it is even more imperative that you stay. I am sure Viscount Grayson would require his wife to be up to date with all the latest on dits.’
Eleanor suppressed a sigh. Her godmother had obviously made up her mind and consequently there was no point even attempting to change it. Reluctantly, she resumed her seat and put down her book.
Just at that moment, James joined them and, after planting a kiss on his aunt’s cheek, dropped into the chair opposite her.
‘So,’ began the dowager, as Stevens set down a silver tea tray on the table, ‘do tell me all the latest happenings, James. The only thing you talked of when you visited me in my chambers was the blasted weather.’
‘Perhaps,’ said James, crossing one leg over the other, ‘that is because the weather is a deal more interesting than many of our acquaintances, Aunt.’
‘Well I won’t disagree with you there,’ chuckled the dowager, accepting a cup of tea from Stevens. ‘But it is so awfully tedious being stuck in one’s room. One would die for even the tiniest bit of gossip.’
Eleanor watched as James’s jaw tightened. ‘Unfortunately, Aunt,’ he replied stiffly, ‘I am not aware of-’
He broke off as Giles appeared in the doorway.
‘Lady Carmichael and Miss Felicity Carmichael, your grace,’ he announced.
Eleanor was aware of all colour draining from her face. James, too, looked several shades paler than he had a few moments before.
‘Oh well,’ huffed the dowager, raising her cup to her lips, ‘if there is one thing Cynthia Carmichael is good for, it’s gossip-mongering. Now she will definitely know what’s been going on. Show them in, Giles.’
A minute later, both Lady Carmichael and Felicity bustled into the room.
‘Oh my goodness, Lady Ormiston,’ gushed the older woman, ‘we have been so dreadfully worried about you. We thought we simply must come and see how you are.’
The dowager rolled her eyes. ‘As you can see, Cynthia, I am well on my way to recovery.’ She waved a hand at the sofa, which the Carmichaels correctly interpreted as an invitation to be seated.
‘I must confess, we have been quite at sixes and sevens ourselves,’ flustered Lady Carmichael, as she sank on to the sofa next to Eleanor and began untying her bonnet strings. ‘Felicity has been quite out of frame and we have not the slightest idea what is wrong with her, have we, my dear?’
‘We do not, Mama,’ replied the girl serenely.
‘I won’t go into details in front of a gentleman of course,’ whispered Lady Carmichael, throwing a coy glance at James as she tugged her bonnet from her head, ‘however the doctors believe that it is a matter regarding the female disposition.’
‘Really,’ muttered the dowager prosaically. ‘How very interesting.’
‘Do you know, Lady Ormiston, that those are the very words Dr Gosport used to describe her condition last week. The man is quite flummoxed by it. So flummoxed that, while he continues his investigations, he recommends the poor child rests. We have been quite out of circulation since the Illingsworths’ soirée.’
‘Well in that case,’ said the dowager, eyeing Felicity suspiciously as the girl accepted her cup of tea from Stevens. ‘What on earth is she doing gallivanting about here?’
‘Oh she was most anxious, Lady Ormiston, that we come and see you. In fact, she quite insisted upon it. Such a thoughtful child.’
All eyes turned to Felicity, who gave a bashful smile, which encompassed them all.
An uneasy feeling began worming its way under Eleanor’s skin. What exactly had Felicity told her mother about the incident at the Illingsworths’? And was the girl purposefully keeping her mother out of circulation to avoid the gossip which would undoubtedly be flying around? She slanted a glance at James, who was observing Felicity with narrowed eyes. Was he, too, trying to piece together the next stage of her plan?
All her tit-bits of gossip imparted, Lady Carmichael moved on to meteorological observances. These were rudely interrupted, however, by Felicity pressing a hand to her bosom and declaring, ‘Oh Mama, I feel quite faint. I think, perhaps, a little air is in order.’
The dowager, holding out her cup for Stevens to refill, rolled her eyes. ‘Then go and stand over by the window, girl.’
Felicity regarded her hostess with wide eyes. ‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly, Lady Ormiston. The draught would exacerbate your own condition. I think it best if I take a stroll around the garden.’
‘Of course, dear,’ nodded Lady Carmichael. ‘But you cannot possibly go alone when you are so out of sorts. James, would you be willing to help out a damsel in her hour of distress and accompany Felicity around the garden?’
All heads turned towards James. The look on his face had turned to one of utter disbelief.
Lady Carmichael raised her brows quizzically. ‘James?’
Before James had a chance to reply, Felicity rose to her feet. ‘I fear I must go this very instant, sir,’ she declared, walking slowly around the back of the sofa and gripping it in the manner of one about to fall over. ‘I have no wish to embarrass Lady Ormiston by suffering a fainting fit in her drawing-room.’
‘Oh, is she not all that is consideration,’ fluttered Lady Carmichael. ‘Now, James, dear, if you would be so kind?’ she urged, regarding him optimistically.
Still failing to acknowledge the request, James sat quite still, staring balefully at Felicity. Eleanor held her breath. Would he dare to expose the girl here, in
front of her mother and Lady Ormiston? And, if so, would anyone believe him? Eleanor started as, in one swift movement, James suddenly thrust to his feet and marched from the room. Felicity scuttled after him.
Lady Carmichael emitted an audible sigh of relief. ‘Well,’ she exclaimed, with a knowing smile, ‘I’m not one to jump to conclusions, as you know, Lady Ormiston, but, if I’m not mistaken, James appeared to leap at the chance to accompany Felicity. Perhaps,’ she continued, lowering her voice and casting a wary glance at Stevens who was clearing away the cups, ‘he was glad of an opportunity to discuss his intentions towards her.’
‘To which intentions are you referring, Cynthia?’ enquired the dowager drily.
‘Well, of course, I have no idea, I’m sure,’ flustered Lady Carmichael.
Eleanor, on the other hand, could make an accurate guess as to James’s intentions towards Felicity Carmichael. And, if the girl riled him enough, he might well carry them out. She had to follow them. Her mind raced frantically for an excuse to leave the room. And then she hit upon the perfect one.
She cleared her throat. ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying so, Lady Carmichael, but poor Felicity did not look at all well. May I suggest that I take out a vinaigrette, or perhaps a little hartshorn to revive her should she have a fit of the vapours? Men are generally of little use in such situations. Indeed, to have such an attack in front of a gentleman can, so I have heard, quite turn his affections from a lady.’
Cynthia Carmichael’s eyes widened in horror. ‘Heavens, Lady Eleanor,’ she blustered, reaching for her reticule, ‘you are quite right. Men are indeed quite useless when it comes to such feminine matters.’ She whipped out her vinaigrette and handed it to Eleanor. ‘I’m sure Felicity will be most indebted to you for helping her out of a potentially delicate situation.’
‘Oh, I assure you it is the least I can do, Lady Carmichael,’ replied Eleanor as she rose from her seat, snatched the vinaigrette from the older woman’s grasp and flew from the room. As fast as she could, she ran across the great entrance hall, down the steps and out on to the lawn. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she spotted James and Felicity heading towards the walled orchard - James striding ahead, his hands clasped behind his back, Felicity was puffing along behind him. As they disappeared into the orchard, Eleanor sprinted after them, ignoring several quizzical looks from the gardeners.
Upon reaching the orchard, she ceased running and leaned against the wall to catch her breath. Her racing heart skipped a beat as she heard voices. She edged to the archway which formed the entrance and peaked around it. A pink-faced, out-of-breath Felicity was sitting on an old stone bench, while a furious James paced up and down in front of her, hands still behind his back.
‘So, madam,’ he began, ‘now that we are alone, we can be frank with one another. I assume that this nonsense about being unwell is all part of your devious plan?’
Felicity flashed him a beguiling smile. ‘Congratulations, sir. You assume correctly.’
‘Hmm,’ mused James, continuing his pacing. ‘And just for my own benefit, madam, I will summarise, if I may, what I believe to be your plan.
‘Oh, please do, sir. That will serve us both quite well.’
James tossed her a scornful glare. ‘Very well, then. My understanding of the situation is this: now that I have apparently been caught seducing you - against your will of course – you are now feigning an illness with all the symptoms one normally associates with being with child. When it is discovered, at some point quite soon, that you actually are with child, everyone will naturally assume that I am the father, although,’ he added in a conspiratorial tone, ‘we both know that I am not. So, in order to avoid the most outrageous scandal, I will be forced to marry you and raise the child as if it were my own.’
Felicity clapped her hands in mocking applause. ‘Goodness,’ she exclaimed breathlessly, ‘although I do say so myself, it does sound rather marvellous when you put it like that.’
James continued his pacing. ‘Can one assume then, madam, that, as your mother is still speaking to me, she is unaware of your staged seduction?’
Felicity attempted a tinkling laugh. ‘She is aware that something occurred, sir. I told her that, having tricked me into being alone with you, you could no longer control your feelings and became a little amorous. A fact which, given how desperate she is for us to make a match of it, did not displease her in the slightest.’
‘Hmm. And I assume that when the doctors discover you are actually with child, you will tell your mother that it was conceived during that incident?’
‘Of course. But as she thinks me an innocent, I shall merely explain that I had no idea what was happening to me.’
‘Well, I have to hand it to you, Miss Carmichael,’ pronounced James, stopping his pacing directly in front of her, ‘it does indeed appear to be a first-class plan. I take it that the true father of the child is unaware you have conceived?’
‘Of course,’ chirped Felicity. ‘He has served his purpose famously and has, I can assure you, been very well-rewarded for his efforts. I believe the man to have received more from our little arrangement than he would earn in five years from his work on the farm.’
James’s upper lip curled into a sneer. ‘Your generosity knows no bounds.’
Felicity regarded him beatifically. ‘Thank you, sir. I do think it so important that the future Duchess of Ormiston is in possession of certain admirable qualities. Do you not agree?’
‘Oh indeed I do,’ hissed James. ‘But I should point out that you are not in possession of a single one of the qualities which I consider to be admirable,’ and with that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the orchard.
Eleanor held her breath and pressed her body tight to the wall as he strode by her. Her effort was wasted. James Prestonville appeared completely absorbed in his thoughts and, by the murderous expression on his face, there was little doubt what those thoughts were.
EIGHTEEN
The hoot of an owl awoke Eleanor with a start. Anxious that the bird sounded so close it might take it into its head to fly inside the room, she ran to the window and quietly closed it. As she did so, the owl swooped down, menacingly surveying its prey with haunting orange eyes. Eleanor watched it for several minutes before sleep overtook her again. She was on the verge of returning to bed when she heard a sound in the corridor, exactly the same sound she had heard several nights before: James Prestonville en route yet again to his lover’s room.
Beset by a painful combination of anger and jealousy, all notions of sleep deserted her as she lay awake, tossing and turning, attempting to push all torturous thoughts of what might be happening in the room at the end of the corridor, out of her mind.
In a flash, however, every trace of thought completely deserted her as, with no warning at all, her bedchamber door burst open. Eleanor immediately jerked upright, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end at the horrific sight before her. The Wailing Whitlock Widow, in her gown of dirty white chiffon, drifted into the room, moaning and wailing, her dark hair hanging wildly over her face and shoulders. Eleanor watched the vision astounded; her mouth gaping open; her mind a complete blank. The spirit appeared oblivious to her audience, drifting agitatedly around the room, presumably continuing the eternal search for her husband. Failing yet again, she came to a standstill in front of the fireplace and, raising her arms upward, emitted a pitiful, high-pitched wail, which cut through Eleanor like a steel blade. Unable to bear it a second longer, she screwed her eyes shut and clamped both hands over her ears. Several seconds later, she hesitantly opened her eyes to find the woman gone and the door closed. Terror turned to relief as she sagged against the pillows, her heart racing. She had been scared to death. Death. Milly’s observation, following the accident at the soirée, crashed into her mind. Was that the intention? Was the ghost another ploy to kill her? Was somebody trying to scare her to death? Her mind whirling, she reflected on the events of the last few weeks: the incident with t
he carriage following the Carmichaels’ ball; the near-miss with the arrow at the Stanningtons’ garden party; the arrow which had caused the fall from her horse; and the open trap door and pickaxe at the Ilingsworths’ soirée. She sat bolt upright yet again as a stab of realization pierced her. How could she have been so dim? Milly was right: someone was out to kill her and she could think of only one person who could hate her that much - Felicity Carmichael. Felicity was aware that Eleanor had overheard two of her conversations with James: two conversations in which the girl had clearly outlined her ruthless plans to become the new Duchess of Ormiston; two conversations which, if Eleanor chose to disclose the contents, had the potential to seriously hinder Felicity’s callous ambitions. Obviously, having gone to such lengths to achieve her ends, Felicity would allow nothing to get in her way. Not even a little thing like murder.
Having reached her shocking conclusion, Eleanor wondered what to do about it. She could, of course, admit to James that she knew of Felicity’s scheming and together they could make public the girl’s wicked plans. However, if Felicity really was with child, then their chances of being believed were minimal, particularly given the staged seduction scene that had been witnessed by two of the most notorious gossips and one of the most respected gentlemen in Society. No, if they publicized Felicity’s scheme without any proof, then it would be assumed that James, having ruined the girl, was simply trying to avoid marrying her. Moreover, if she did confess her murder theory to James, he was in such bad humour that he would most likely brand her as a neurotic female and her theory as utter nonsense. What she really needed was concrete evidence of Felicity’s scheming; something that would prove the extent of the girl’s evil plans. An idea struck her. Suddenly she knew exactly how to do it and just who to help her.
The area in front of the Maguires’ house was, as usual, filled with a crowd of laughing, screaming children - a scene that caused Eleanor to smile as she brushed away another stab of envy at the joy of having a large family around.
The Unaccomplished Lady Eleanor Page 19
