Personally she did not care what they thought, although she had every intention if she woke, of unlocking the door before the housemaids came to clean the schoolroom.
“How dare Lord Magor behave in such a disgraceful way?” she asked aloud.
She knew if she had let him in he would have tried to make love to her, whatever that entailed and perhaps, if she allowed him to do so, he would have stayed with her for hours.
She suddenly remembered something that had escaped her mind until now.
The first morning she had been at The Priory she had been woken by a loud bell ringing at six o’clock.
For a moment it had flashed through her mind that it might be a fire alarm, but, when no commotion had followed, she had known that there must be another reason for it.
When Agnes had called her later that morning she had asked,
“What was the bell I heard which woke me up so early?”
“That be the stable yard bell, miss,” Agnes explained “it’s always rung at six o’clock when there be guests in the ’ouse. We never used to ’ave it, but I understands when ’is Lordship was stayin’ at Easton Lodge where the Prince of Wales stays so often, Lady Brooke ’ad the stable yard bell always rung at six and he thought it would be a good idea.”
Lara had not thought of it again, but now it came to her mind that the reason for the bell was to warn those who had to return to their own bedrooms before the housemaids were moving about.
‘How can that be the explanation?’ she argued, but some instinct told her that it was.
‘The whole thing is disgraceful,’ she thought, ‘and Papa would certainly be shocked at my staying in a house where immorality is encouraged in such a blatant way.’
She only hoped her father would never learn of the activities that were coming to her notice at The Priory.
Then she thought that perhaps he knew a great deal more about London Society than she did. After all, no one had been more raffish or more extravagant than her grandfather.
She had often been told, although it had not had any significance for her when she was young, that her Uncle Edward, who should have come into the title, was a great ‘dasher’, not only on the battlefield but in the ballroom.
She had not understood what was meant by such a statement, but now she remembered that her father had said that his elder brother had never married because he found it difficult to find one woman who would satisfy him for the rest of his life.
“He certainly pursued a considerable number in his search,” he had said to his wife within Lara’s hearing, “but he was not so fortunate as I was, my darling, in finding you.”
“I am very grateful,” Lady Hurlington said softly, “although I have often been jealous of the women who hang breathlessly on your every word and are all too eager to help you in Church.”
Lara’s father had laughed.
“They all look to me a hundred and one!” he answered, “and even if they were as beautiful as the Venus di Milo, I assure you, my darling, I would not even notice them when you are there.”
‘That is what being in love is like,’ Lara told herself now and it was what she had meant to describe in her book and thought at first that it would be easy.
Now it seemed that there were many sorts of love including love that Lady Louise had for the Marquis, which was wrong and wicked, and yet she could still remember the heartbreak that had sounded in her voice, when she was eavesdropping on her in the garden.
There was the love of the Prince of Wales for Lady Brooke, who was years younger than he was and had a good-looking and charming husband, who was always being referred to in the newspapers and magazines as if he was a pillar of the aristocratic world.
‘Why can she not be content with him, even though it must be very exciting to have the Prince of Wales as her lover?’ Lara asked.
It all seemed rather incomprehensible and yet now, when she had the opportunity to find out a great deal more about these people, she knew that her father would definitely disapprove.
But he would perhaps forgive her when her book was a success. They would be able to do up the Vicarage and live much more comfortably than they did at the moment.
Yet Lara knew that she was making excuses for something that both repelled and yet fascinated her.
She thought of Lord Magor and realised that somehow she had to make certain that when she left he would not pursue Jane any more.
She was so easily frightened and in a way so helpless that Lara thought she would have been scared into hysterics if she had been in her place this evening.
She remembered Jane had said that she lay awake all night, unable to sleep because even with her bedroom door locked she was afraid that Lord Magor would somehow get at her.
‘His behaviour is appalling!’ Lara told herself. ‘If I cannot manage to scare him off in any other way, I will tell the Marquis about him.’
After the Marquis had been so helpful and understanding over Georgina she thought that perhaps he would be just as sympathetic about Lord Magor.
At the same time he was his friend and to condemn him for behaving badly in running after a young woman, or rather women, would be also to condemn the Marquis for breaking the hearts of Alice, Gladys, Charlotte and Lady Louise.
Actually the boot was on the other foot as they were pursuing him.
At the same time Lara realised that he must have made love to them in the first place, otherwise they would not have lost their hearts.
Everything she thought about made her plan of writing a novel about this type of Society become more and more complicated.
‘Perhaps my heroine should just fall in love with the boy next door who would be the Squire’s son,’ she told herself, ‘and they will live happily ever afterwards.’
But she knew that she was not going to be able to write a long and complicated plot around the village of Little Fladbury and, if there were no obstacles and no difficulties, it would soon become boring after two or three thousand words.
‘No, it has to be the Duke,’ she decided, ‘and, like the Prince of Wales, he will undoubtedly make love to all the lovely ladies who are married to somebody else.’
Because it seemed almost ridiculous, she found herself laughing.
Then she put away her manuscript book, turned out the light and going into her bedroom locked the door securely before she started to undress and climb into bed.
CHAPTER SIX
The next day Georgina was disappointed when they reached the Racecourse and there was no sign of the Marquis.
“I thought Uncle Ulric was going to race us,” she said plaintively.
“Never mind,” Lara answered, “we will practise racing together, then when he does come perhaps we shall both beat him.”
This appealed to Georgina and Lara gave her a long start, then managed to pull Glorious in to let her win by nearly a length.
“Uncle Ulric would think that good!” Georgina said excitedly.
“Of course he would,” Lara agreed.
They had two long races and a shorter one and then, as Lara thought that the child had had enough, they started riding back through the woods.
The sun was coming through the branches and it was so lovely that she felt her mind slipping away into a romantic dream, so that she started then Georgina gave a cry and exclaimed,
“There is Uncle Ulric and he is coming to find us.”
It was indeed the Marquis and he was riding Black Knight towards them. Perhaps it was because Georgina sounded excited that Lara felt her heart leap too.
The Marquis was certainly looking magnificent, almost, she thought, like a Knight in ancient days going out to kill a dragon and she drew Glorious to a standstill, letting Georgina ride towards her uncle exclaiming as she went,
“You are late, Uncle Ulric, too late to race us, but I beat Miss Wade – twice!”
“I am very sorry, I was delayed,” the Marquis said, “and I hope you will forgive me.”
; He was speaking to Georgina, but he was looking at Lara and, as she smiled in response, he said,
“I had not forgotten my engagement with you both and tomorrow I will definitely try to be more punctual.”
“Tomorrow is Sunday,” Lara pointed out, “and that means, my Lord, we shall have to ride either before Church or afterwards.”
The Marquis’s eyes twinkled.
“I can see, Miss Wade, that you are definitely pointing out to me the path of righteousness!”
“What you do, my Lord, is, of course, not my concern,” Lara replied, “but I think that Georgina should go to Church.”
“Yes, indeed,” he answered.
She thought he spoke a little cynically and there was a twist to his lips as if he thought that she was definitely censuring the type of household that did not treat the Sabbath as a Holy Day.
“Why do you not come to Church with us, Uncle Ulric?” Georgina asked. “Papa used to read the lessons and he made them sound much more exciting than when the Parson read them.”
“That is an invitation I shall have to consider,” the Marquis answered.
Again his eyes met Lara’s and there was an expression in them, she thought, which dared her to criticise him.
“I shall not offer to race you now,” he said, “as I expect your horses have had enough for one day, but I suggest that we ride through the Park together. The Head Keeper has just informed me that there is a fox’s lair in the wood on the other side and perhaps you would like to see the baby foxes before they are killed.”
“Killed?” Georgina cried in consternation. “Why must they be killed?”
“Because, if we leave them, they will kill a lot of pheasants and also the chickens on the farm, which will mean that you will have no eggs for your breakfast,” the Marquis replied.
Georgina considered this for some time and then she asked,
“Will the baby cubs really do so much damage?”
“I am afraid so,” he answered. “But forget for the moment what lies ahead of them and just think that they look young, which is something that unfortunately does not last long for all of us.”
The way he spoke made Lara laugh.
“Why are you laughing Miss Wade?” he enquired.
“Because you sound, my Lord, as if you are Methuselah.”
“That is how I feel at the moment,” the Marquis replied.
He made no explanation as to why he was feeling like that and rode on in silence.
They saw the baby cubs, which were only small balls of fluff and, as Lara could see no sign of the mother, she assumed that the vixen had already been killed.
Then she and Georgina rode home alone as the Marquis told them that he had to visit one of the farms.
“I don’t want the baby foxes – to be killed,” Georgina moaned.
“Neither do I,” Lara agreed, “but, when we do lessons on nature study, you will learn that the animals prey on each other and foxes will kill not only the pheasants and chickens but also the rabbits which you love and anything else they can catch, not just for food but because they enjoy killing.”
Georgina thought this over and then she said,
“It’s very very wicked to be cruel to something small and helpless, is it not, Miss Wade?”
“Yes, it is,” Lara agreed firmly and she was thinking of Lord Magor.
After last night she realised exactly why Jane was so frightened of him and she wondered how many other pathetic lonely Governesses had shrunk away from him in fear, and yet been unable to prevent him from making their lives a misery.
‘I hate him!’ she thought. ‘He is a bully and a tyrant and sooner or later I will get even with him!’
She thought perhaps that he would come back to the nursery at teatime, but there was no sign of him and she learnt not only from the servants but from all the commotion that was taking place downstairs that by now the Prince of Wales, Lady Brooke and all the Marquis’s other guests had arrived.
Despite her resolution, when Nanny was putting Georgina to bed and Agnes put her head in through the door of her bedroom, Lara was waiting expectantly.
“Come quickly, miss!” she urged, “and you’ll see the ladies goin’ down to dinner.”
Lara did not answer. She merely followed Agnes up another staircase to the top floor and they went along a narrow passage until they reached the centre of the house.
Here, as Lara looked down, she could see three floors with the Grand Staircase rising upwards from each one.
“Nobody looks up as ’igh as this,” Agnes said, “and if you leans over the bannister miss, no one’ll notice you.”
They were joined a moment later by four of the younger housemaids who looked a little shy at seeing Lara, but were reassured when she smiled at them.
Looking right down into the hall, Lara could see the footmen in their smart evening livery, wearing powdered wigs and white silk stockings with satin breeches.
Then just before eight o’clock the first lady appeared on the stairs.
She wore so many diamonds on her head, around her neck and on her wrists that she seemed to be enveloped with a light that came from herself.
At this angle her gown certainly seemed very décolleté, at the same time very elaborate and exquisitely beautiful.
She was followed almost immediately by several other ladies, two of them accompanied by gentlemen in black knee breeches, one of whom was wearing the blue Order of the Garter across his chest.
One after another the house party descended the stairway like wave upon wave of glittering beauty that made Lara speechless.
They moved like graceful swans gliding over a lake and their voices and laughter seemed to drift up towards the onlookers almost as if it was a mist rising over the stream in the Park.
When so many had passed down that Lara had ceased to count them, there was a little pause.
Then she saw a dazzling figure in a white gown embroidered all over with diamanté, her fair hair almost obscured by a huge tiara and she knew who it was even before Agnes whispered,
“Lady Brooke!”
Accompanying her was the already somewhat burly figure of the Prince of Wales.
They walked down side by side and, although they did not touch each other, there was something in the way Lady Brooke lifted her face up to his and he looked down at her which revealed their feelings without words.
‘It is wrong!’ Lara tried to say to herself.
At the same time it struck her that love, wherever one found it, could be very wonderful.
Then the Prince and Lady Brooke passed together across the marble hall and Lara knew that they had now joined the other members of the house party in the silver salon.
She gave a little sigh.
“Now you see how lovely she is,” Agnes said. “That gown must be worth a fortune!”
Lara did not answer.
She was thinking how she could describe what she had just seen in words and how it was important that she should write it down on paper while it was still fresh in her mind.
She walked back with Agnes to the staircase that led down to the schoolroom floor and the housemaid said,
“I’ve got to go now, miss, but I’ll come back for you as soon as the lady’s maids ’ave all gone to supper, but that won’t be for a couple of hours.”
Lara had already learnt that in all big houses the senior servants ate in the housekeeper’s room and that included the visiting lady’s maids and valets.
The meal in the servants’ hall began when dinner in the dining room had finished and so Agnes was right in saying that she would not be able to fetch her for at least two hours.
She knew that she could occupy herself during that time in writing and she settled down at the schoolroom table, first of all making notes, then making her heroine watch, just as she had done, the Duke’s house party going down to dinner.
‘She will long to be with them,’ Lara told herself. ‘She will feel lonely and neglected and
jealous because he would not be thinking of her, but of the lovely bejewelled ladies who would be fawning on him because of his high rank as a Nobleman.’
Then she thought that there might be other reasons as well.
Lady Louise loved the Marquis for himself as a man, for since she was in fact the daughter of a Duke, as Lara had learned, she was that not impressed by his title or his possessions.
‘He no longer loves her,’ Lara thought, ‘but she is lucky that he has been interested in her at all.’
She found herself wondering what the Marquis would say if he was in love with somebody and what it would feel like if he kissed the woman he loved.
It was somehow difficult to think of him looking anything but rather bored and cynical and, try as she would, she could not make a mental picture of him in the person of the Duke kissing her heroine.
‘Perhaps because I have never been kissed it is something I shall never be able to describe,’ she thought sadly.
She knew that if Lord Magor kissed her it would be a horror and degradation that she would never wish to write about or remember.
She had sat for a long time not writing, but thinking, when suddenly Agnes reappeared in the doorway,
“Come on, miss,” she said. “They’ve all gone downstairs now.”
It flashed through Lara’s mind that this was the moment when she should behave with propriety and stay where she was.
But the temptation was too great and she followed Agnes who was already hurrying down the stairs to the next floor.
“I’m later, miss, than I expected,” she said, when Lara caught up with her, “because ’er Ladyship’s maid ’ung about fussin’ over this and that and twice I ’ad to remind ’er she’d be late for supper.”
“Would that worry her?” Lara asked.
“Oh, no, miss. She gives ’erself terrible airs and graces since ’er lady’s always with ’Is Royal Highness. More Royal than the Royals, she is, and we laughs about ’er behind ’er back.”
Lara laughed too!
They had reached the part of the house where she knew the State bedrooms were all situated, although she had never seen them.
“That’s where the Prince is sleepin’, miss,” Agnes said pointing to one door, “with a sittin’ room next to it. Then Lady Brooke’s in what’s known as the ‘Queen’s room’. And ’er boudoir be on the other side of that.”
The Poor Governess Page 11
