by D. L. Carter
“No, Your Grace.”
Shoffer hit the stairs at a run with North, uncharacteristically stern in visage, a bare step behind him. They arrived at Beth's room just as the maid Sally emerged, shaken and pale, but not yet in tears.
“When did you see her last?” roared Shoffer.
“Have pity, Shoffer,” said North. “The girl will faint if you cannot be calm.”
“To hell with calm!”
“What is all this noise?” demanded the dowager, emerging from her room in her dressing gown and sleeping cap, three rows of lace outlining her face. “Shoffer, remember who you are.”
“I know very well who I am,” cried Shoffer, lowering his voice in the face of his grandmother's frown. “What I do not know is, where is my sister?”
Some awareness fluttered across the woman's face and she stepped back, one hand on her door. “There is no need for this fuss. She spent the night with me.”
North took a half step forward and rested his hand on Shoffer's sleeve.
“I cannot imagine,” he said in a near whisper, “any circumstances wherein Lady Beth would choose willingly to spend a night with the dowager.”
“No more can I,” said Shoffer. “If you would be so kind, please tell Lady Beth I wish to see her.”
“She has not yet arisen.” The dowager tugged on the door, half closing it.
“I care not. I will see her now.”
“Shoffer, this is hardly proper. I am not ready to receive visitors this early in the day.”
North, always courteous, stepped a little away from the quarreling family members and directed a few of the servants away. There was no need for them to view this argument. Then Shoffer saw him stop and stare toward the dowager's chamber.
“Did you hear that? That thumping? What is that?” North demanded, just as Mrs. Fleming's head appeared behind the dowager and vanished.
“Nothing,” said the dowager, flushing.
That was the last straw for Shoffer. He pushed past her and was in the bedchamber before anyone else moved. On the far side of the room was an ancient, inlaid armoire with its door locked. From within came a muffled thumping. In an instant Shoffer was on his knees before the shaking armoire, struggling with the key.
“Oh, my God,” came the whisper from North.
Within seconds Shoffer was dragging open the door and lifting his sister off the floor of the wardrobe. Shoffer crossed the room and deposited his sister into North's arms. His move took the youth by surprise and it was all the smaller man could do to prevent the girl from dropping to the floor. Instead of bearing Beth away North settled her feet on the ground and held her to his side.
“Take her,” ordered Shoffer. “Have care of her while I deal with this.”
Shoffer pushed them both out of the room and shut the door in their faces. Then he turned to face the dowager who retreated until she was holding the posters of the bed for support.
“Now, Your Grace,” he growled, clasping his hands behind his back so that he might resist the temptation to strangle the dowager. “We shall come to terms.”
* * *
Outside in the corridor Millicent found herself and Beth to be the center of many curious eyes. As she was not strong enough to carry Beth, Millicent settled for putting an arm around the girl’s waist and half dragging her along the corridor toward her own room. Maneuvering around a stunned footman Millicent's brain fired to life and she glared around at the gathered servants.
“Lady Elizabeth will need a hot bath. Bring water, a lot of it. And you,” she nodded to Sally. “Which other maid does Beth like?”
“Ah? Lily?”
“Excellent. Have her fetched as well. The two of you will take Lady Beth in hand and put her to bed.”
“No,” whispered Beth, the first sound she had uttered since emerging from the armoire. She tightened her grip around Millicent's arm, cutting off the blood. “Please. No. I cannot sleep.”
“Very well, they shall help you dress and keep you company until your brother arrives.”
They went into Beth's well-appointed suite of rooms. When Millicent paused at the door, Beth dragged her further in.
“Do not leave me. Please. I do not feel safe without you.”
Millicent cast an anxious glance over her shoulder. This was Shoffer's place. His responsibility, not Millicent's. As Mr. North, she could not stay, but as a caring human being, she could not leave.
“It is hardly proper.” Millicent glanced about the room, seeking some way to maintain Beth's reputation and still give comfort. “I shall sit here, facing the wall and if you call out I shall answer.”
“Promise you will not leave.”
“Not until Shoffer arrives.”
With many backward glances, Beth consented to be taken to the dressing room where a bath was being prepared for her. Several times during the next quarter hour Beth called out, seeking confirmation that Millicent was still waiting. Casting about for some nonsense with which to distract the girl, Millicent found for the first time in her life she had no idea what to say, so each time she settled for a brief affirmative.
“Yes, Lady Beth. I am still here.”
When Shoffer finally arrived he called out a greeting to his sister, but did not dismiss Millicent from the room. Instead he took up the matching chair and they sat side by side facing the wall until Beth emerged from her dressing room. Thereupon, Beth claimed Shoffer's right arm and Millicent's left, and between them, descended to the breakfast room.
Not since that first day when the carriage had overturned had Millicent seen Beth so pinched and pale. The girl was attired neatly in a morning dress of palest rose, her hair combed and gracefully arranged, but her lips were white and clamped tight, her eyes wide and shining with unshed tears, and her hands trembling. Shoffer guided her to the table and seated her between his place and Millicent's, then left to load a plate for her. A footman appeared with a freshly brewed pot to fill the tea cups, then departed the room in response to a gesture from the duke.
“Here, my dear Beth,” said Shoffer, sliding a plate in front of his sister. “Eat this; you will feel much more the thing.”
“I cannot,” whispered Beth.
Millicent exchanged a look with Shoffer. There was so much anger and pain in Shoffer's eyes that it amazed Millicent that he was able to sit there so quietly. Instead of storming about the room, raging to the skies, he put a spoonful of sugar into Beth's tea and stirred it for her.
Millicent sliced a sliver off her now cold beefsteak, the scrape of her knife the only sound in the room. She could not bear the suspense for long and sought about for a distraction. After the traumas of the night, Beth needed something to occupy her hands and mind. When the idea finally came, Millicent was shocked at herself, but could not resist. It was the ideal thing to restore Lady Beth's spirits and teach her grandmother a lesson.
“Lady Beth,” began Millicent, ignoring Shoffer's negative shake of the head. “I was wondering if you could take the time to teach me a skill I believe I will need before the season starts.”
“I cannot,” whispered Beth. “I beg you would please excuse me.”
“Oh, but as you are the epitome of all that is womanly and graceful, I know you would be skilled and I should not have a better teacher.”
“Please, Mr. North. Not today.”
“But, Lady Beth…”
“Mr. North,” came Shoffer's harder voice. “Not today!”
Millicent forced the words out before Shoffer flung her from the room. “I should like to learn to shoot!”
“Shoot?” repeated Beth blinking in shock, her eyes clearing. “I do not know how to shoot.”
“How can that be? Surely, Lady Beth, there is no marksman to compare with you. You have excellent timing and delicacy of feeling and all the womanly virtues. I am certain that you hit the bullseye every time with your bullet.”
Color was returning to the girl's pale cheeks and a faint smile played on her lips as she tried to a
nswer Millicent's nonsense.
“You flatter me, Mr. North, but I have never shot a gun.”
“You do astonish me,” said Millicent, and pushing Beth's tea cup into her hand, she had the satisfaction of seeing the girl take one sip, then another. “Here I was convinced that I could turn to you for aid. As I told you, I am taking my cousins down to London for the season and given my superior understanding and calm demeanor, I am certain that within the first week, I shall be challenged to at least a dozen duels. I must know how to shoot.”
“But I do not know how!”
“Then I shall teach you both,” said Shoffer.
“What did you say?” gasped Beth, turning to meet her brother’s gaze for the first time that morning.
“I shall teach both of you,” declared Shoffer. “Indeed, I realize I should have taught you long since, Beth, and once I have trained you, I shall see to it that you have your own gun with you at all times. One for each day of the week. All different colors to match your costumes. James!” The duke's shout brought the footman back into the room at a run. “James, inform the groundskeeper I want targets for shooting practice set up on the East Lawn immediately.”
“The East Lawn, Your Grace? ’Tis morning. The sun!”
“Position the targets so we are shooting from north to south, but it must be on the East Lawn.” Dismissing the man, Shoffer returned his attention to his sister. “Now Beth, you must eat a good breakfast or you will not be able to hold the gun steady. I do insist.”
Baffled but willing, Beth started eating and missed the smile that Shoffer shot Millicent over her head. But Millicent did not. The warmth of that approval she felt clear through to her bones.
It was enough, she told herself, to have Shoffer as a dear friend. It was enough.
Her hands shook as she returned to her own cooling breakfast. It would never be enough.
They adjourned immediately after breakfast to the East Lawn, Shoffer pausing briefly in his study to collect two sets of dueling pistols, powder, and shot. At Shoffer's command, the servants hurried about setting up vaguely man-shaped targets made of straw instead of the usual archery bullseyes. A table was fetched so Shoffer could arrange the pistols and demonstrate loading and preparation of the weapons. It was not long before they were ready and Beth faced the targets for the first time with a gun in her hand.
It was perhaps unfortunate that it was that moment Mrs. Fleming emerged from the house.
“Lady Elizabeth,” she cried. “Whatever are you doing? Out, without even a maid or a bonnet.”
“I find it surprising, Mrs. Fleming,” said Beth in frosty tones, “that of all the things that have happened in this house today you find my lack of a bonnet to be worthy of comment.”
Then Beth closed one eye and squeezed the trigger. The pistol leapt in her hand, startling her, but she did not drop it.
“A hit! A hit,” cried Millicent, applauding. “That is one villain who will sin no longer. You have taken his arm right off!”
Shoffer seized Millicent around the shoulders and pounded his fist into her arm. “Yes. Yes! You were correct, Mr. North. My sister is a superior markswoman.”
Millicent rubbed her arm, even as she leaned against his strength, just for a moment breathing in his scent. When he released her, she did not protest, but went with him to offer Beth congratulations.
Mrs. Fleming, however, went deathly white.
“Guns! Lady Elizabeth, this must never be known. Your reputation would be destroyed in an instant were anyone to know.”
“Oh, bother everyone,” said Beth. “I think if it were to get out that I can use a gun, then certain people would treat me with more respect.”
“Your grandmother…” began Mrs. Fleming.
“My grandmother!” Beth drew a deep breath, and gun still in hand turned to face Mrs. Fleming, then glanced up at the house behind her.
Millicent and Shoffer turned as well. Silhouetted in a window was the unmistakable figure of the dowager duchess. Now Millicent realized why Shoffer had insisted on the East Lawn. He wanted the whole parade to take place under the dowager's window. For her to see that Beth would never again be her helpless victim. Millicent smiled and Shoffer's grin was feral as he stalked to the table and seized the next loaded pistol.
“Beth, dear. Come, Grand’Mere is watching. Let us show her how ladylike you are.”
He guided Beth's steps back to face the target and prompted her to shoot. The second shot again struck the bullseye.
“My years of archery practice have stood me in good stead,” remarked Beth calmly. Without turning her head she added, “Mrs. Fleming, you are dismissed. Do not expect to receive a character. The housekeeper will bring you the balance of your salary, although I am quite convinced you do not deserve it. Go now and deliver one last message to my grandmother. Tell her from me that if I ever lay eyes on her again, I will shoot her myself!”
“You cannot speak to me like that.” Mrs. Fleming made the mistake of turning to the duke for confirmation of her status in the household.
“Madam, you are dismissed,” said the duke. “Leave. Never let me see your face nor hear your name again or I shall surely strangle you.”
Mrs. Fleming gave a squeak and staggered away toward the house. Beth watched her go, her face set and calm. Then she raised her eyes to watch her grandmother's figure disappear behind the curtains. Once both women were out of sight, Beth dropped the pistol to the ground and fell sobbing into her brother's arms. Shoffer lifted her off her feet and carried her to a nearby wrought iron seat. Millicent was left with the stunned servants.
“Oh, I think you can all go spread the gossip now,” murmured Millicent, picking up the pistol and restoring it to the table. “They do not need us at this moment.”
The servants retreated and after rendering the remaining pistols safe, Millicent left as well. She chose the library on the west side of the house so that no one could accuse her of intruding on the privacy of brother and sister.
It was not more than an hour before Shoffer and Beth came seeking her.
“Mr. North,” cried a much more cheerful Beth. “You abandoned us. We have not yet finished your lesson. I am determined to teach you to shoot as well as me.”
Millicent set aside the novel she had been pretending to read and smiled at both of them. “I thought myself de trop, dear Lady Beth, as well as much intimidated by your superior skills.”
“Oh, phoo. Come out now. It is a beautiful day and I have just told the servants to prepare an alfresco luncheon for us on the East Lawn for after. Shoffer has said he will fetch out his hunting guns for us to play with.”
“Play?” protested Shoffer. “Hunting is a serious matter.”
“Oh, come,” replied his sister. “Tell me it is not play that has you getting up at dawn to shoot things.”
“If you did not enjoy it, Shoffer,” said Millicent, “you would not do it. Is that not the definition of play?”
“I cannot compete with the two of you when you are being silly,” replied Shoffer. “Come, North. Up, you lazy creature. You started this; therefore, you must suffer with me.”
“Willingly,” Millicent hauled herself out of her chair and they all headed out of the house.
They paused in the main hall to watch servants running back and forth bearing boxes and trunks. Near the front steps two carriages were being loaded.
Beth ignored the activity and stalked past, head held high. Shoffer leaned close to Millicent.
“I sent a message to intercept Attelweir and the others last night. He will know he is not welcome. Mrs. Fleming and my … the dowager leaves today. You shall have your fortnight, Mr. North, and my thanks.”
Millicent inclined her head in acknowledgement. “I hope you know I will not speak of any of this.”
“Of course. You are a fribble, not an idiot. I am only sorry you lack suitable title whereby I could bestow Beth upon you,” the duke added lightly, as they strolled past the laboring servants. �
��Are you certain you are not related to any person of rank? An earl, perhaps? That is not too lowly for consideration.”
“A baron would do,” cried Beth, who returned to hear the last.
“The hand of the fair maiden in reward for saving the kingdom from a dowager dragon? No. Not one,” said Millicent, “and a good thing, too. Were I to admit I am twenty-seventh in line to a mere baronetcy, I would fear for the lives of those twenty-six, given the skills of our Lady Beth.”
“I would not shoot all of them,” said Beth, seizing both Shoffer and Millicent by an arm. “It would not be wise and should cause talk. Poison, I think, would do for half.”
Shoffer recoiled in mock shock. “See, see what associating with those who are beneath you has wrought?” he cried, as Millicent dissolved into laughter.
Chapter Eight
Winter season – London.
“Are you certain they come today?” asked Felicity, as she rearranged the folds of her new dress.
Millicent glanced toward her mother, then away. Since she had answered that self-same question six times that morning, she was becoming weary of it.
Felicity, Mildred, and Maude had arrived in London a few days previously and had been driving Millicent insane since. It was not that she did not love her family, but she had spent the summer mostly alone and found being welcomed back into the bosom of her family a trifle smothering.
After spending a few weeks with Shoffer and Beth, Millicent had been called away to deal with yet another tenant emergency, this time in Dorset. From there she had gone to Cambridgeshire and Exeter. By the time she had settled matters with tenants in Oxfordshire summer had faded into autumn. Millicent was too busy to accompany her family from Bath to London as planned, so it was not possible for Millicent to prevent her mother and sisters from spending every last penny Millicent had left with them on what the Bath modiste assured them were the latest London fashions.
Informed of the delay, Shoffer kindly sent one of his “lesser” coaches and sufficient staff to carry the ladies from Bath to London in comfort. Millicent did not inform her mother whose vehicle she travelled in until that lady had arrived in London. Her ears were still ringing from the peal Felicity had rung for that particular secret. Poor Felicity had not until that moment been aware Millicent had made the acquaintance of a duke and so had not been able to boast to her Bath friends. In retaliation she was pretending not to believe any such acquaintance existed.
