The Housemaid's Scandalous Secret

by Helen Dickson

  ‘I like you, Lisette. I desire you—which you already know.’ His tone was softly earnest. ‘And you know I mean that seriously.’

  His words put her thoughts in turmoil. They looked at each other, neither of them speaking, their glances locked, speaking words which could not be heard but which both understood. Lisette’s mouth was dry and immodest sensations were beginning to fill her body. She felt the heat in her face, and then the heat spread, filling every part of her at that nakedly desirous look. It was a look that was at once an invitation, a need and a certainty. He was as sure of her as that. But it could not be so. The feelings that assaulted her frightened her. She wanted him, desired him, but she also feared him—but more than that she feared herself.

  For a while she had been carried away by the sheer pleasure of his company and by the soft aura of the night and the stables, and for that time she had allowed herself to forget the reality of her situation, but it was over. She was painfully aware of the gulf between her status and his—a maid was a servant, noble blood was noble blood. She did not belong there. Men of Colonel Montague’s ilk were not for the likes of her.

  She hesitated, searching for words, then she said, ‘I know what you are saying but I have got to be sensible. We both have to be. I may be a maid, a domestic servant, but I am the daughter of a gentleman. You are a nobleman, successful, a man of wealth and position. With all that entails in time you will make a good marriage. It would be most unwise for us to form any kind of alliance. I could never be anything to you but your mistress. I am not looking for a protector. I may not have much, Colonel Montague, but the little I have I value. I have strong feelings for you—you know that—but I have too much self-respect to be any man’s mistress.’

  He considered her apace, then nodded slowly. ‘I could promise you ease and comfort.’ He paused and tipped his head without releasing her gaze. ‘Would that be a kindness or a curse?’

  ‘Kindness or curse?’ Lisette scoffed. ‘Your wisdom escapes me. What you are asking of me is a sin. My upbringing, meaning the teachings of my parents, taught me the difference between right and wrong and I will not go against that. I will not be your mistress, nor anything else you think is appropriate for a servant girl. I’m worth more than that.’

  ‘Along with everything else that draws me to you, I applaud your sincerity, Miss Napier.’

  ‘I mean what I say. I don’t like being made sport of, Colonel, but you obviously enjoy causing me discomfort. I am employed by you to take care of your sister’s needs. My duties end there. It has to be that way.’

  He nodded slowly, his blue eyes sparkling with humour. ‘I can see you are a highly intelligent female, Miss Napier.’

  ‘I’m glad you think so,’ she answered, wondering where this unusual conversation was going to take her next.

  ‘That was not a compliment,’ he corrected.

  Lisette looked at him with curious displeasure that silently demanded an explanation for his remark. He answered as he reached out and touched her cheek with his forefinger, tracing its smooth, delicate texture.

  ‘Were you less intelligent, you would not spend so much time considering all the possible consequences of belonging to me, and you would simply accept our situation along with the benefits attached to it.’

  ‘Benefits? What benefits might they be?’

  ‘Think of all the things I could give you. I would take good care of you.’ Her eyes widened with indignation, but Ross continued with imperturbable masculine logic. ‘Were you a woman of ordinary intelligence, you would be concerned with matters of normal interest to a woman, not torturing yourself about such subjects as the differences between us. Accept the situation now. It is inevitable.’

  Lisette stared at him in disbelief. ‘Situation? Accept my situation?’ she repeated. ‘I am not in a “situation,” as you so nicely phrased it.’

  His eyes softened. ‘I would never hurt you, Lisette. I promise.’

  ‘Don’t,’ she said quickly, liking the sound of her name on his lips but she must not let it be. ‘My name is Miss Napier and please don’t make promises.’

  Aware of her discomfiture Ross smiled, amused by it. One brow lifted arrogantly. He stood very close, totally commanding her vision.

  ‘Why there you are!’

  They both turned and beheld Nancy Cooper descending on them like a galleon in full sail. Ross frowned. The entire East India fleet wouldn’t have been more unwelcome, but to Lisette, the maid’s interruption was a godsend and saved her from replying to Colonel Montague’s question.

  ‘You are looking for Miss Napier?’

  Despite his politeness, Lisette sensed his irritation, his annoyance, that Nancy’s appearance had caused.

  Nancy, a red-haired, white-faced kitchen maid, bobbed a curtsey, a rather sly, knowing smile on her thin lips. ‘Indeed I am, sir. I’m sorry to drag you away,’ she said to Lisette, ‘but Miss Araminta has returned from the Assembly Rooms early and is asking for you.’

  At that moment the carriage that had deposited Araminta and Phaedra and Aunt Wilhelmina at the door to the house swung into the stable yard.

  ‘Then I shall come at once.’ Bobbing a little curtsey, she uttered, ‘Goodnight, Colonel Montague.’

  Ross met her eyes. His smile still in place, he inclined his head. ‘Miss Napier.’

  Walking swiftly back to the house, Lisette sighed. Having left his presence the night seemed quieter, less colourful, less alive.

  Nancy had to run to keep up with her. ‘The colonel seems to have an eye for you, Miss Napier. It’s not gone amiss.’

  Her words and what they implied brought Lisette to an immediate halt. ‘What on earth are you talking about, Nancy?’ she asked crossly, not liking one bit what the maid was implying.

  ‘I expect the colonel’s like most men in that he’s just as susceptible to a pretty face as the next man. I know this is your first position in a big house and I’m only saying this for your own good, but a handsome man like the colonel can pose a hazard to an innocent girl. They know the right words to entangle a gullible female mind, and I feel I should warn you about the risks you could encounter if you go on meeting His Lordship as you have tonight.’

  Lisette almost staggered back, shocked by what Nancy had said. ‘But I didn’t arrange to meet him. We met purely by chance.’ She put her hands to her burning cheeks, astounded by Nancy’s insinuation. ‘Oh, Nancy, I hope you don’t think—but that’s dreadful. I—I didn’t think...’

  Having worked in service since she was a girl and knowing what was what in a ‘big house,’ as she called Castonbury Park, Nancy scoffed at her naivety. ‘’Course you didn’t. I know you like to see the horses, but be careful. With a face like you’ve got it’s hardly surprising that you’ve caught the colonel’s eye. But if you become entangled with a titled gentleman, you may well come to regret it. You could easily be sullied and then tossed aside, leaving you in a delicate condition with little hope of attracting a respectable husband. Affairs like that have a way of ruining lives. No man wants spoiled goods.’

  As Lisette continued on her way, Nancy’s words had made one thing clear. To protect herself from Colonel Montague’s corrupting influence she would endeavour to stay out of his way. There was no chance she’d succumb to a handsome face and a devilish smile.

  And yet if she had been in the privileged position of Miss Araminta, the sparring and fencing humour he deployed would have been most enjoyable. What fun that would be. But as she entered the house her frown deepened at the road down which her thoughts travelled.

  Oh, yes, Colonel Montague was definitely corrupting.

  * * *

  As soon as Lisette entered Araminta’s room she heard the wrenching sound of grief being poured into a pillow. Her young mistress lay in a crumpled heap of chiffon and silk on the bed sobbing her heart out. Alarmed by the distraught girl, immediately she went to her, sitting on the bed beside her.

  ‘Miss Araminta! What’s this all about? What on earth
is the matter? What has happened to make you cry like this? Oh, you poor girl.’

  ‘Oh, Lisette,’ she wailed, turning her tear-washed face up to hers. ‘You can have no idea. Antony was there—at the assembly. I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t bear it. I just wanted to come home. I told Aunt Wilhelmina I wasn’t feeling well.’

  ‘You still love him, don’t you?’

  Araminta confessed that she did and that she had made a terrible mistake when she had broken off their betrothal, that it had all been a horrid misunderstanding. Lisette pointed out that the fact that Lord Bennington hadn’t married anyone else might well mean that he still loved Araminta. Her eyes filled with renewed hope, Araminta said she would write to Antony and ask him to meet her.

  ‘But he mustn’t come here. Ross mustn’t know. I’m sure he blames Antony for what happened—and he’s right, it was Antony’s fault. But I know Ross. If he knew how much I have suffered because of Antony’s betrayal, he’d probably call him out. You can’t imagine how awesome he is when he’s angry.’

  ‘Then perhaps you should think again before you write to Lord Bennington. Although, if you don’t, he might think you don’t care for him, after all, and return to Cambridgeshire.’

  With that motivation, Araminta allowed Lisette to coax her out of her finery and into her nightdress and brush her hair, as she did every night, looking compassionately now and then into the pensive face in the mirror. She talked to her soothingly, saying anything that came into her head. Her voice was dreamlike to Araminta, giving the impression that she was in some vague, slightly unreal world of hopeless and despairing resignation and yet behind her blank face her mind was slithering like a duck on a frozen pond as she tried to formulate a plan to get Antony back.

  Chapter Five

  When Lisette finally left Araminta tucked up in bed mentally wording a note to Antony Bennington, she felt restless and confused following her encounter with Colonel Montague, so she went down to the kitchen for a cup of hot milk before seeking her own bed. It was relatively quiet with just the odd footman and maid passing in and out as they finished their duties for the night. They all had an early start.

  Will Blackstock was in the servants’ hall in conversation with Smithins, who sniffed and left when Lisette entered. After warming some milk on the stove she sat at the table with Will. She got on with Will—mainly because they had both spent time in India and always had plenty to talk about. He talked as he worked, rubbing the brass buttons on one of the colonel’s military coats.

  Fair-haired and cheekily attractive, he was a firm favourite with everybody. With his ready smile, sharp wit and the tales he told of his travels in India he had everyone enthralled. His devotion and loyalty to Colonel Montague was never in doubt, and he had a definite twinkle in his brown eyes whenever they lighted on Daisy, a pretty young housemaid.

  Will and Lisette chatted amiably as she drank her milk, discussing the menus for the following day and the chickens which the kitchen staff had dressed earlier and were now residing in the larder awaiting Monsieur André’s expertise to turn them into something quite delicious.

  ‘Do you recall the markets in India,’ Will said, ‘when the livestock were brought in from the countryside—how the chickens were kept in cages and weren’t killed until they were sold?’

  ‘I do—very well—and the ducks and geese. Mother was always very good at bartering and invariably got them at a knock-down price.’

  ‘How very primitive,’ Nancy interrupted. There was a note of scorn in her voice. She saw Lisette as something of an upstart and was jealous of the attention Will paid to her.

  Lisette looked at her. ‘It’s just a different way of life, Nancy.’

  ‘A way of life that would not appeal to me. Nor could I understand it.’

  ‘A person is always better off for understanding something,’ Lisette pointed out calmly. ‘In my imagination life as it is in India will go on indefinitely.’

  ‘In your imagination, water could go uphill and cats speak French,’ Nancy retorted, and with a toss of her head she flounced away in a huff.

  Lisette shot Will an amused, conspiratorial glance. ‘Oh, dear,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t think I’m one of Nancy’s favourite people.’

  ‘You’re not the only one,’ Will remarked. ‘Mrs Stratton set her on after Christmas but she’s too haughty for her own good that one—and lazy. If she doesn’t start pulling her weight, you mark my words—she’ll be out on her ear before much longer.’

  Mrs Stratton walked in followed by Lumsden.

  ‘Good evening, Blackstock—Miss Napier,’ Lumsden said, his manner precise as always. Taking out his watch attached by a fob to his waistcoat he checked on the time. ‘Mrs Stratton and I are to share a nightcap before I check to make sure that everything is locked up.’

  ‘I’ll just get some hot water from the kettle,’ Mrs Stratton said, disappearing into the kitchen where André, always considerate to her needs, had left provisions for her late-night beverage. ‘Have your usual tipple by all means, Mr Lumsden, but I’ll settle for a cup of tea tonight.’

  Having witnessed the brief show of intimacy between Lisette and Colonel Montague on the day following their arrival at Castonbury, Lisette was relieved that Mrs Stratton had made no comment on the incident. However, she was under no illusion that it had been forgotten and that from that moment her behaviour would be under the closest scrutiny.

  Lisette liked Mrs Stratton. Her voice did not hold the superior tone one would expect of the housekeeper of such a large and noble establishment. She was a widow with one son, Adam. The last time he’d come home to Castonbury to see his mother it was to tell her that he’d left the navy and was to try his hand at business. Mrs Stratton had been horrified to learn that he’d given up a promising career. Disappointed by his mother’s reaction, Adam had stormed off, vowing he would not return until he had made his fortune. Mrs Stratton was saddened that he had not been in contact since then, but she concealed it beneath her quiet demeanour.

  ‘I trust you haven’t forgotten that in the morning we are to make an inspection of the guest rooms, Mrs Stratton,’ Lumsden said when she reappeared carrying a small teapot. ‘It’s so long since they were in use that we must make an inventory of things to be done to make them suitable for occupation.’

  ‘Of course not. I made a note of it earlier—ten o’clock, I believe we said. And we must remember that should a certain lady arrive sometime in the future, there is a child to consider, so I think we should take a look at the nurseries.’

  It was a topic much discussed with all parties taking sides. Only Lisette said nothing, which was not unusual. No one asked her opinion directly but as Miss Araminta’s personal maid they believed she was privy to all the information they craved. Lisette knew no more than they did about this mysterious woman Lord Jamie was supposed to have married, but if she did she would remain silent out of loyalty to her mistress.

  ‘If the rumour about the woman is true,’ Nancy said, suddenly flouncing into the kitchen and almost bumping into Mrs Stratton, ‘then what can he have been thinking of to marry a woman no one has seen? The duke’s heir at that.’

  ‘Well, I am inclined to sympathise with the young woman,’ Mrs Stratton said, ‘since I, too, was widowed and left with a child to care for. If she is indeed Lord Jamie’s wife, then the child will be the duke’s heir and it is only right that he is treated as such and comes to Castonbury. She must be given the shelter of this house. Now come along, Mr Lumsden. My tea is getting cold.’

  * * *

  Bidding goodnight to Will and Nancy, Lisette sought her bed but she couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t stop thinking about her meeting with Colonel Montague. He commanded her attention, filled her thoughts, almost to the exclusion of all else. His attitude, his appearance, his movements, that dangerous velvety voice—all reeked of seduction.

  She told herself it meant nothing, that she shouldn’t make too much of it, that it could simply be that he’d found n
othing more scintillating at Castonbury, no lady more enticing, with whom to spend his time. Yet her heart leapt one notch, one rung higher up the ladder of irrational hope, every time he appeared in Araminta’s room. When she finally succumbed to sleep he even followed her into her dreams.

  * * *

  Entering her mistress’s room the following morning Lisette wasn’t really surprised to see her seated at her escritoire penning a note to Lord Bennington. The housemaid whose business it was to make the fire was on her way out. On seeing Lisette, Araminta got up, having folded and sealed the note.

  ‘I want you to do something for me, Lisette,’ she said, handing her the note. ‘I’ve written to Antony and would like you to take this letter and give it to one of the grooms. Ask him to ride to Glebe Hall which is outside Hatherton. He is to deliver it in person to Lord Bennington and wait for a reply.’

  Against her better judgement, Lisette did as her mistress asked, but she could not quell the apprehension that gripped her or the feeling that she was colluding in something that would come to no good.

  Returning to her mistress’s rooms to inform her that she had done as she had instructed, her heart did a somersault when Colonel Montague strolled in every bit as handsome and imposing in his dark, brooding way as she remembered.

  Lisette was putting away the brushes, the comb, the curl papers and ribbons which littered the surface of the vanity. The smile on Colonel Montague’s face, curving those firm, fascinating lips, was more than enough to make her drop the comb. A blush came quickly to her cheeks, mounting high as she experienced the sensation of being stripped naked by his bright blue gaze. Picking up the comb she inwardly swore that she would not give him the pleasure of knowing how flustered she felt.