THE MAGIC TOUCH (Historical Romance)

by KEYSON, PATRICIA

  A tap at her door told her Edna was coming to help her change her clothes yet again. She smiled as she thought of the times she’d done just that, but into those of a man. That would be behind her now.

  “Edna, I have a favour to ask of you. Would you be able to take these clothes somewhere and prevent anyone from seeing them until I can think how they can be disposed of?”

  The maid looked unhappy, but put on a little smile. “If you wish, Hope. I think you know I’d do anything for you, especially after all the time and trouble you’re going to in order to help us to read. The other servants are enjoying their lessons. They reckon you should be a teacher in a school. The way you explain things is easy to follow they say, and I agree with them.”

  At the encouraging words, Hope felt cheered. What a wonderful day this was turning out to be. She allowed Edna to help her into a dress and tidy her hair. The two of them discussed the merits of short hair and Hope declared she loved being free of hair such as hers which had proved so unruly. It was a pity she couldn’t disclose her latest exploit to Edna who would have enjoyed the gossip about the gentlemen’s club, Hope was sure.

  On a whim, Hope put her arms about her maid and hugged her. “You are a lovely person, Edna. I’m pleased you’re my maid. And thank you for all you do to help me.”

  Edna blushed and pushed her mistress away gently, but not before returning the hug. “Thank you, Hope. I’m pleased Her Grace asked me to attend you.”

  Opening the door, Hope said, “I’m going downstairs now, although I’m not at all hungry.” The reason for that, she kept to herself.

  “Yes, my lady,” replied Edna politely. “And I will do as you ask.” She indicated the pile of men’s clothes on the bed.

  * * *

  After a night of deep slumber, Hope awoke with the sun streaming in through her opened drapes. She yawned and sat up in bed. “What time is it, Edna? I trust I haven’t overslept. I was so tired from...” Hope stopped and stared at the young servant in front of her. “Who are you? No, wait a minute, I recognise you. You were in the servants’ hall reading. Molly, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, your ladyship. Fancy you remembering my name. I mean, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t talk to you like that.” Poor Molly looked so alarmed that Hope took pity on her.

  “Really, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Hope pushed back the coverings and sat on the edge of her bed. “Where’s Edna? Is she ill?”

  “I don’t know, my lady. All I know is I was told to come and help you get ready for the day.” Molly looked around and went towards the cupboard where Hope’s clothes were. “What will you wear today? You have a lot of beautiful dresses, begging your pardon.”

  Now Hope was worried; she couldn’t bear the thought of Edna being so ill she was unable to attend to her. She must get ready quickly and find out what was causing her to be absent. “I don’t mind which I wear. Possibly the pink and green one, it’s an old favourite.”

  Molly did her best to help Hope look presentable enough to go downstairs, but her dress seemed ill-fitting and the fastenings stuck. Hastily looking at her reflection in the mirror, Hope said, “Aunt Constance takes breakfast in her room usually so there will be no one to see me. Except Stevenson.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Hope hurried to breakfast to find Stevenson waiting for her arrival as usual. “Good morning, Stevenson.”

  “My lady,” bowed the butler.

  Although Hope was anxious for news of Edna, she didn’t want to appear too concerned about her; it wouldn’t do for Stevenson to think they were close, although Hope felt he probably had a small idea of their rapport. “A new maid came to me this morning. Is Edna quite well?”

  “Edna doesn’t work here any longer,” replied Stevenson, his voice not giving any weight to the words at all. He might as well have said that the weather was inclement or the eggs were ready.

  “Whatever happened? Why did she leave?” Hope was sure Edna would never have done that without so much as a goodbye to her.

  “You will have to ask Her Grace,” Stevenson informed her in a tone which indicated he was unwilling to say more.

  “Very well.” Hope made sure she acted normally as she helped herself to breakfast and forced it down. She couldn’t wait to speak to Aunt Constance.

  She spent the morning unable to concentrate on any one thing. First she tried reading, then playing the piano, reading again and finally giving up she simply paced the rooms and hallway. Her aunt didn’t appear until luncheon was served.

  “What’s the matter, Hope, dear? Have you lost your appetite?”

  “I have rather. I am perplexed. My sweet maid, Edna, has apparently disappeared from the face of the earth and I am at a loss to know why.” Hope could feel tears forming.

  “You shouldn’t become so attached to the staff. I knew you were getting too close to the girl when you insisted she accompany you to the dressmaker and when you wanted to teach her to read.”

  “I simply don’t understand how she has left so suddenly and unexpectedly. Was she unhappy here?”

  “She has been dismissed because she is a thief. Now let that be an end to it.”

  That couldn’t be true. Hope trusted Edna as much as she trusted her own maid at home. But even Ruth hadn’t been expected to keep secrets as personal as those she’d shared with Edna. If she had been disloyal, surely she would have tittle-tattled.

  “But, Aunt...” Hope stopped when Aunt Constance glared at her.

  “Hope, I have said that is an end to the matter. I do not expect to have to repeat myself. Now let us eat our lunch without further talk.”

  After their meal Constance went out to visit an old friend and Hope paced the rooms again. Then she wrote in her journal with the desire that it would help her find a solution to her problem.

  How is it possible Edna can be a thief? I refuse to believe what my aunt has said. There must be some mistake. What can I do? If Aunt Constance won’t tell me anything further then the only person I can ask is Stevenson. Surely he can tell me. I will go and search him out before I lose my nerve.

  Without thinking about it she headed for the back stairs and the butler’s pantry. Stevenson was busy writing, but leapt to his feet as soon as he saw his visitor. “Lady Hope, may I help you in anyway?”

  “Yes, Stevenson you may. And I won’t leave until you tell me the answer to my question. Why has Edna left?”

  “At luncheon Her Grace was not prepared to tell you the details. Do you think I should do so against Her Grace’s wishes?”

  “I certainly do. I know Edna very well, as you do, and I do not for one moment believe she is a thief.”

  “I will tell you what she did and you will know that we have both misjudged her character. One of the other servants saw her carrying a pile of clothes into their bedroom. She told the housekeeper who checked the room and found the clothes hidden under her mattress. They were His Grace’s clothes and we believe she took them for members of her family. She was dismissed immediately. She will not get another position.”

  Hope’s heart sank at the news. “May I see the clothes, Stevenson?”

  “You may. I have put them in this cupboard.” He produced the clothes that Hope had worn and her heart sank a little further. “Are you well, Lady Hope? You look somewhat pale. Here, let me get you something.”

  Hope sipped at the drink and tried to think how she would ever put things right. Her foolishness had meant poor Edna would no longer be able to support her family. What would become of them?

  “Thank you. Stevenson,” she said weakly before making her way back to her bedroom. She looked at the trunk, then taking a deep breath opened it and pulled out the clothes which had been discarded as rags. She needed to talk to someone as she had no idea what to do about Edna’s predicament and the only person she could think of who might possibly help was Beaumont. She was not going to involve Molly so she pulled out the hair pieces herself, dressed as a man and set off down the back stairs to escape.
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  The fresh air came to her aid as she hurried away from the house. Slowing her pace, she was able to think a little more clearly. She would go to the fair and if Beaumont wasn’t there she would enquire where he lived. But he could be anywhere, possibly at the club. Her attire was not suitable for a visit there. It was going to be a futile exercise, she felt sure. At least no one would recognise her dressed in the clothes which had been discarded as rags. However, when Hope compared them with the attire of some of the poor creatures she passed, she realised that her apparel was quite presentable. Perhaps she could go to the club after all, even if he wasn’t there someone could tell her where he lived.

  Having ascertained Beaumont’s address, Hope quickly found her way to his street. She crossed the road without looking and there was a shout. She let out a light yelp before falling just short of a horse and carriage.

  With her nose pressed to the grimy cobbles she was aware of only two things: someone was shouting and another person was bending down to tend her. It would not do for anyone to get close to her and discover her secret, so she bit her lip against the pain in her arm and made to stand.

  “Stay where you are,” a voice commanded.

  “All right,” murmured Hope, sinking back to the ground. She was safe now; the voice belonged to Beaumont.

  His words came to her through a mist and she heard him instructing the carriage driver to go around the casualty who was not hurt badly. “I’ll take care of him, don’t worry,” Beaumont assured the driver. “I know him, he’s a friend of mine.”

  Hope felt a tingle rush through her as a moustache prickled her cheek and a puff of masculine breath blew softly into her ear. “They’ve gone now. Get up if you can.”

  “How did you know it was me?” demanded Hope, forgetting for the moment that this meeting was providential. All she could think of was the fact she’d been recognised.

  “Your hat came off,” replied Beaumont, by way of explanation. “Although I must admit your apparel did not give you away. Whatever are you wearing?”

  She snatched the dilapidated hat and rammed it on her head. “I came to find you.”

  “I thought you said you were never going to dress as a man again.” Beaumont lowered his voice to a whisper although there was no one in hearing distance.

  “It was an emergency,” said Hope. “I owe you an explanation, but we can’t talk here.”

  “I agree. Would you come to my house? I saw the commotion from my window and came out to see what was happening.”

  The house Hope walked into was unlike her aunt’s in almost every respect. As she followed Beaumont along the hall, she was able to glimpse into the downstairs rooms. None appeared to be assigned for special purposes. In what she supposed was the dining room, a table vied with a piano and a chaise longue for space. And what Hope assumed to be the drawing room was filled with books and a table full of slides for the magic lantern. Various periodicals were strewn across surfaces. Hope smiled as she looked at the chaos.

  “Something amuses you. Please tell me.”

  Beaumont’s eyes were steely, but they didn’t deter Hope from saying, “Have you a housekeeper?”

  “Why do you ask? Are you worried about being chaperoned? I can assure you it doesn’t matter as no one will know about your presence here and if anyone sees you they will assume you are a man.”

  “I meant that you are most untidy, Beaumont!” Hope gasped at her own impudence.

  Beaumont threw back his head and let out a roar of laughter. “And you, my dear Hope, are very forthright. But that aside, please tell me what provoked you to change your decision and put on those very unbecoming clothes?”

  With a sigh, Hope sank into a chair and regaled Beaumont with the distressing story of Edna and finally came to the crux of the matter: her dismissal for something which was not her fault at all. She waited, feeling better for having been able to unburden herself. Beaumont would have the answer and things would return to normal.

  To her dismay, he sat opposite her and stared at the wall for several minutes saying nothing at all. Hope’s arm was throbbing a little, but she didn’t dare take off her jacket to inspect it. She tried to sit still, waiting for Beaumont to break the silence. After a while longer she could bear it no longer, and stood up and walked from room to room, ideas flitting through her mind.

  Wandering back to Beaumont, she was fast losing patience with him as he still appeared deep in thought. As she was on the verge of asking him if he had any ideas at all, he spoke. “You will have to confess to Constance.”

  This was what Hope had dreaded. She knew it was the correct thing to own up to her aunt, but she also expected it would put her in a bad humour which would not help Edna at all. After she explained to Beaumont, he nodded. “But it has to be done. There’s been enough duplicity.”

  “You are right,” admitted Hope. “I know you are. At first I was hesitant to confront my aunt because of what she would think of me, but at the moment I care more about Edna than myself.”

  “Very commendable. But if Edna is to get a fair hearing, Constance must know the whole story.”

  With the decision made, Beaumont accompanied Hope to her aunt’s house so she could enter unobtrusively while he was talking to Constance.

  When she had changed into a dress and fixed a hair piece, Hope went to find her aunt, anticipating Beaumont would still be with her.

  “Hope, you’re flushed and out of breath, what have you been up to?” Aunt Constance frowned at her niece.

  “Nothing much,” replied Hope, avoiding Beaumont’s amused gaze.

  “As I was saying, Constance, I wish you would let me have Hope’s help to create some slides for a new show I have in mind. She has shown herself to be talented in many ways.” At this he placed himself firmly in front of Hope so she had no way of politely avoiding his eyes which were shining above a barely-concealed grin.

  “Certainly, Beaumont. As you are both here now, can you set to work? It doesn’t appear that Hope has much to do at the moment and she certainly needs distracting.”

  “Are you suggesting I distract your niece?” queried Beaumont. “However,” he continued, without waiting for a reply, “I think it best if she could come to my house as I have all the equipment there. Would that be possible to arrange?”

  “No doubt it could be. I will let you know when I am able to chaperone her.”

  “I beg your pardon, Hope,” said Beaumont incomprehensibly. Whatever did he mean, she wondered? “I thought you were about to say something.”

  Now she understood and took a deep breath. “Yes, I was. Something important. Aunt Constance I am guilty of a gross transgression.”

  As she stammered and stuttered her way through the story from the start to the end, her aunt’s face set deeper and deeper into a frown. When Hope finished with the latest part about going to Beaumont’s house for advice, there was an interminable silence. She paced the room, occasionally glancing at her aunt and Beaumont who seemed to be transfixed by a painting of one of Uncle Eustace’s ancestors.

  “Sit down, Hope, you are wearing me out with your pacing.”

  “Yes, Aunt.” Hope immediately did as her aunt commanded.

  “You took your dead uncle’s clothes to wear?”

  “Yes, Aunt.”

  “And you went out in them, either with Edna or on your own?”

  “Yes, I confess I did.”

  “You went to the fair and to a gentlemen’s club?”

  “Yes, dear Aunt.”

  “You walked in the park alone.”

  “I did.”

  “Whatever will your mother say?”

  “I think she will pretend to be cross, but I think she will also wish she had been to a gentlemen’s club. She has often wondered what they are like.”

  Beaumont spluttered. “Excuse me, Constance, I appear to have a tickle in my throat.” When Hope glanced at him he winked at her yet again. She winked back which had him spluttering even more. Hope realised sh
e shouldn’t be so frivolous, yet what did it matter that she had worn men’s clothes? Nothing awful had befallen her. Then she remembered that they had been her dead uncle’s clothes. That did make her feel uncomfortable.

  “I do not know what to say or think.” Constance tapped her fingers on the table. “I am considering how Eustace would have regarded the matter. What do you think, Beaumont? What would your esteemed ally have said?”

  “It isn’t my place to say. You knew him better than I did, better than anyone else in the world. You are the only one who would be able to say how he would react to Hope’s behaviour and mine. I have to tell you that I have played a part in the events. I encouraged Hope to come to the fair a second time and to my club.”

  “I am aware of your at times shocking behaviour, Beaumont. It is part of the reason Eustace liked you.” Constance appeared lost in thought again.

  Beaumont looked at Hope and smiled weakly, before addressing her aunt again. “Have you thought yet how he would react to Hope wearing his clothes?”

  Constance’s face lit up. “He would have laughed and told her she should use a more competent tailor. He was an elegant man, do you remember?”

  “Indeed I do. I remember the time he told me that he would take me to his tailor as my jacket was ill-fitting.”

  “I was somewhat askance when I discovered the ragged clothing in Eustace’s rooms until I remembered he sometimes liked to stray incognito outside the house to see how the underprivileged lived,” said Constance.

  “Indeed, I can testify to that. He earned my great respect because he wanted to witness for himself the poverty experienced by many in the city,” replied Beaumont. “He looked a remarkable sight in those clothes.”