“I beg pardon, ma’am, but is there anything that I can do to help you?” She peered into the hallway, confronted by the startled faces of Mrs. Hatcher and a bluff gentleman who was, presumably, the doctor.
“Oh, miss,” —the landlady turned a teary face toward her— “it’s my Micah, come down with measles, and will be sick for at least a week, and it could be longer. Think shame on him, a great boy coming down with such a thing, and my poor customers—” Her mother’s heart was as overwhelmed by the threat to her son’s health as was her businesswoman’s sense offended at the setback this would mean for her establishment. Mrs. Hatcher threw herself on Genia’s bosom, startling the young woman.
“Not only that, Mrs. Hatcher, but, as I said, this house must go under quarantine until we are sure that no one else will carry the disease elsewhere,” the doctor added, wrestling with his greatcoat as he spoke. “I suggest that you permit me to make the announcement for you.”
Iphegenia looked over Mrs. Hatcher’s still-trembling head in shock.
“Do you mean that I cannot leave here?”
“I mean exactly that.” The doctor nodded. “Until such time as we are sure that no one else in the place is likely to fall sick. Mrs. Hatcher will take excellent care of you, you know,” he assured her with a jovial smile.
“But I’m expected in London tonight. Oh, Lord, what ever will Mary say?”
“I cannot imagine that she will say anything to the point, ma’am,” the doctor assured her, and he turned to enter the coffee room and make his announcement there.
“But Doctor,” —Genia stopped him one more time— “can’t I even write a note to send to my friends? They will be so concerned.”
“Yes, I suppose so, but how will you get it there? Waiting for the stage won’t do you no good, for it will divert to the Queen’s Inn instead, and no one in this house may leave it.”
“But if my coachman and maid haven’t entered the house?” Genia spared a blessing for the uncooperative Elsie.
“Well, I suppose they may as well be permitted to go along and take your note with them. Very well, ma’am. You write your note, quickly, and I’ll take it out to your coach and tell your people what’s to be done.”
Genia thanked the doctor, or would have, but he had turned so abruptly on his heel to enter the coffee room that she was left making her protestations into the air. After a moment or two, Mrs. Hatcher revived sufficiently to tell Miss Prydd where to find pen and paper, before lapsing again into tears. Established at a writing table, Genia composed a note for her friend and for her aunt, sending both to Lady Bevan in the hope that she would forward it. To her friend she explained all, with her promise to advise them when the chaise might be again sent for her, apologizing for the rather inordinate amount of trouble she felt herself to be. The packet sealed, she slipped into the coffee room, where the doctor was engaged in quelling the disquiet he had caused with his decree.
The most obviously overset was the man accompanying the nervous young lady. He was furious, and sought to cover that anger with only the thinnest veneer of civility.
“We shall go on, I tell you,” he was insisting. “We must go on. Absolutely imperative. My—my sister here—we must get her to my—our—our—yes, our aunt, in the north. Old lady’s dying, and wants to see Emmy one last time—”
The doctor appeared unmoved. “Nothing would carry the old lady off quicker than measles, sir. No, you and your sister had best stay here until the danger’s gone. We’ll keep you far enough removed from the sickroom so that you should not be in too great danger of contracting the disease yourself.” The doctor’s tone suggested that the young man’s prime worry was catching ill himself; this did not recommend the doctor or his decree to the young man at all. When his companion turned to him with a feeble smile and murmured, “Oh, dear, Adrian,” he turned to her with a snarl which only barely made itself into a philosophic smile. “Well, Emmy, looks as if we’ll have to stay, don’t it?”
“Oh, Adrian, what are we to do?” She looked as if she would have said more, but the man cut her off abruptly.
“Nothing to be done, dear, since we certainly don’t want to make poor Great Aunt Anne any sicker than she is, do we?” The young man’s voice held a cautionary note. Genia wondered at the strange emphasis the fellow used, and at his companion’s widened eyes and pale complexion.
The parson, for his part, looked slightly annoyed, but shortly recovered his sense of serenity when assured that he need have no contact with the invalid. The two gentlemen in the fire corner showed no signs of anything but ordinary impatience at their journey’s interruption, and both were heard to actually offer their condolences to Mrs. Hatcher when she appeared.
Genia again captured the doctor’s attention long enough to remind him of his promise to carry her note to the coachman and explain to him why Miss Prydd would be unable to continue her journey. To the doctor’s obvious irritation, this brought similar requests from the student and his companion, and from the parson. The girl, Emmy, looked as though she too would have liked to send a note, but her brother quelled that suggestion with the remark that they ought not alarm their Aunt Anne with these trials. Genia privately thought this a strange attitude, if the old woman was awaiting their arrival, but Emmy immediately sank into silence again. Genia imposed upon the doctor to beg him request her bags and boxes be put down and brought into the house. The doctor, resigned by now to the role of majordomo, agreed with almost a smile.
When the landlady had left the room with the doctor and Miss Emmy had retired again to her table with her brother, lphegenia settled herself at her own place and considered both the fruit compote and the position in which she found herself. To be a young lady entirely alone, and so many miles from home and friends that all advice was denied her, was certainly bad enough. But that she had no abigail, even, nor chaperone, except in the person of the much-harried Mrs. Hatcher, made things considerably worse. Given time to reflect, Genia might herself have fallen into despair, but that prerogative was denied her when Miss Emmy, engaged in conversation with her brother, gave a tremendous sob, which drew the attention of all the occupants of the coffee room, and, attempting to stand, fainted instead.
“Oh, good God, if that ain’t the last straw!” her companion exploded.
Iphegenia, more worried about the girl, pushed past him and knelt beside the inert form, and from the other end of the room came the young student, bearing a cup of wine. Iphegenia received this with thanks and, when the girl began to come round, forced a few drops between her lips.
“Now lie still, and I will have the landlady come and tell me which room you are to be settled in, since we are to be trapped here,” she said levelly. “You, sir,” she addressed the girl’s companion. “Have the goodness to find the lady. And see that you overcome your own impatience for a few minutes, if you have any feeling for your sister’s nerves.”
The gentleman looked as if he might have balked, but by now the other gentlemen had collected at that end of the room, and it would have presented too unfeeling a picture had he resisted. With sulky grace he excused himself.
“Admirably done,” the swarthy gentleman commented.
“Is she all right?” asked the youngster.
From the floor, the girl’s voice came weakly. “Oh, yes, I shall do very well in a moment. Only my—my aunt—oh, dear. I’m terribly sorry to be so tiresome, Miss—oh dear, did you tell me your name? I’m not very clear—”
“No more could you be expected to be, poor thing,” Genia said warmly. From over her shoulder came the dark man’s suggestion that, since they were to be housemates for an uncertain term, at least they had ought to be introduced to each other.
“Certainly, sir. I am Miss Prydd.” Genia smiled down at the girl. “I think, unless you very much object, that we must be each other’s friends while we are here. My name is lphegenia, but you may call me Genia, as my cousins do.”
“How very kind you are,” the girl whispered
. “I’m Emily Pellering.”
“Excellently done, Miss Prydd. Miss Pellering.” The dark man made a slight bow in their direction. “Peter Teverley. And this whelp is Domenic Teverley, my cousin. Go ahead, coz, make your bow to the ladies, since you’ve been staring at Miss Pellering like a moon calf for the past half hour.”
The boy would have liked, lphegenia strongly suspected, to disavow that statement. He blushed painfully from his chin to the roots of his fair hair, but his cousin seemed not to notice. Meanwhile, the cleric, somewhat at the back of the crowd, harrumphed interestedly. As this gained him no attention, he edged himself toward the center of the crowd, announcing, it seemed for Miss Prydd’s benefit alone, that he was the Reverend Mr. Dunham, en route to London for a council of clergy and to make use of the resources that city offered to one of a scholarly disposition. While no one inquired, he seemed to feel himself bound to explain exactly what his scholarly interests were, and at great length. Mr. Teverley, with a hard look and a smooth word, silenced him after a moment by making known his intention to assist Miss Pellering to her room.
“Oh, please, Miss Prydd?” the girl whispered. Genia leaned closer, and the girl blushed deeply as she continued: “Could you share your room with me? I am—you see, we—I—” she rattled off weakly.
Genia thought that she did understand, and nodded. “Money problems? I would be hard put to support myself in a private room for the length of a full term of measles. If you don’t dislike having a stranger in your room, I will be delighted to share it with you.”
“Oh, no, I don’t dislike it in the least! That is, you see, I hardly think of you as a stranger. You’ve been so kind to me.” She glanced nervously at the concerned faces staring down at her. “All of you have been so—”
“Kind.” Mr. Teverley suggested. From behind him, Domenic Teverley poked his head and gently proffered Miss Pellering her reticule, which had fallen from her table. “Dom, run see what’s become of Mrs. Hatcher and the amiable Mr. Pellering. Pellering, did you say, Miss Emily?”
“Yes, sir.” She looked up sharply. “What? Oh, yes, Pellering, sir.”
“Excellent. Dom?” He turned, but his cousin had already gone from the room. After a moment Mr. Teverley raised an eyebrow and glanced toward the hall door. “I presume he has found someone, for he’s making the devil of a row.”
Shortly, Mrs. Hatcher appeared in the doorway, full of concern and pungently worded fretting for the young lady. When Emily insisted that she could perfectly well walk, this lady offered her sizable arm, lphegenia promised to lend her support from the other side, and in this awkward fashion the three left the room.
As the door to the coffee room swung shut, Emily’s companion, who had edged in quietly behind Dom and Mrs. Hatcher, turned with a shrug to the other gentlemen and apologized for his sister’s indisposition. He offered to stand them each a round of punch or ale. Mr. Teverley accepted and introduced himself and his cousin. The Reverend Mr. Dunham, after thanking the younger man profusely, made himself known as well and requested ale. For his part, the young man thanked each gentleman for his assistance and announced himself to be Adrian Ratherscombe, and much at their service.
“I expect your sister, Miss Ratherscombe, will be recovered shortly,” the elder Teverley assured Mr. Ratherscombe, motioning Domenic back when that young man would have corrected him. “And you, sir, what part of the country are—that is, were you traveling to?”
Mr. Ratherscombe had missed the sign language that had passed between the two Messrs. Teverely, and was unaware of the discrepancies developing between his story and that of Miss Pellering—or Miss Ratherscombe. He quickly sketched out a story of the journey his sister was making to the northern counties, which Mr. Teverley blandly absorbed. When his story was done, Mr. Ratherscombe rose, somewhat unsteadily, since he had downed two tankards of ale during the length of his recital, and announced that he would now go to check on his sister.
“Oh, by the by,” Teverley said slowly, “I believe Miss Prydd will be sharing your sister’s room. Your sister seemed a little concerned by the cost of accommodations while we are here, and I believe she was comforted to have a respectable female to bear her company.”
“She needn’t have worried about the ready,” Ratherscombe said, a shade too quickly. “She ought to have had her own room, and—” But he caught a glimpse of Mr. Teverley, who was absorbed, it seemed, in examining the toe of his boot. Something about the set of that gentleman’s shoulders suggested to Adrian Ratherscombe that perhaps his sister might as well stay in a room with Miss Prydd. He said as much, a trifle ungraciously, and made his unsteady progress out of the room.
The door had hardly closed behind him when Domenic Teverley flew at his cousin, demanding to know why he had been told to hold his tongue, when that Ratherscombe fellow was obviously up to no good, as well as being caught out in a regular bouncer and upsetting that poor Miss Pellering.
“Your poor Miss Pellering might be the one who is telling the bouncer, Dom, and might well be Miss Ratherscombe as well.” Teverley’s look defied his cousin to rebut him. “However, given the nature of our two mysterious companions, I am inclined to believe, with you, that it is Mr. Ratherscombe who is the villain in this piece. I rather think, in fact, that we have stumbled on an elopement. Further, I think that Miss Pellering has thought the better of the idea, and is somewhat distressed by these turns of events.”
“But surely she wouldn’t be foolish enough to fall for a queer nabs like that Ratherscombe!” Domenic announced with disgust. “Why, she’s a regular first-rater, Peter. He’s not fit to—to—”
“Touch the hem of her gown?” Teverley suggested. “Well, perhaps not, Dom, although I cannot believe that she is entirely blameless, else she would be at home sewing samplers, or whatever girls her age do. In any event, this is not here nor there. What is of importance is that we make sure that that other female—Prydd?—that Miss Prydd should be made to understand why Miss Pellering requires her constant attention. I should imagine she’s used to that sort of duty—she’s got a regular lady’s companion look about her. So I suggest that we work to put Mr. Ratherscombe’s plans awry.”
“You don’t usually put yourself to such efforts for strangers, Peter,” Domenic said, somewhat suspiciously.
“I am not normally trapped in an inn with half a dozen of my fellow creatures, with a story out of Mrs. Radcliffe dangling under my nose. Afraid I might be treading on your territory, infant? Gods preserve us, I have enough trials these days—I don’t need to add a chit from the schoolroom to them. But I have taken a strong dislike to Ratherscombe, and it will be amusing to foil his plans. Now, if you’ll keep a lookout for the Prydd female, we can apprise her of what’s afoot and enlist her aid. I trust she’s not of the vaporish sort—she didn’t look it, but you cannot tell, and I don’t think even boredom could persuade me to cope with two fainting females at a time.” Teverley smiled faintly. “Her handling of the landlady and Mr. Ratherscombe doesn’t suggest hysteria, so I hope for the best. And if she is a romantic, she can join in on our little project for the love of romance.”
“But Peter...” Domenic Teverley gestured vaguely at his cousin.
“Domenic, it is now my intention to go to sleep, there being, it seems, nothing more immediately amusing to do at this point. You may do likewise, or as you will.” Without ceremony, Mr. Teverley closed his eyes and shrugged himself into his chair. Domenic, having dealt with his cousin before in these moods, knew better than to cavil, and, extricating from his coat a book he had been reading, he sank back himself.
Silence reigned in the coffee room for the space of three minutes. Then Mr. Dunham, who had obviously been working himself into a sense of ill-use and indignation, forced himself to speak.
“I am appalled, sir.”
There was no immediate reaction to his declaration of dismay.
“I am appalled,” he began again. Stopped. Tried once more. “I am altogether—”
“Appalled,” Teverley murmured from his collar. Dunham regarded him sharply.
“Altogether,” he agreed. “This sort of conduct! Young persons fainting in public coffee rooms, abductions, deductions, plots, seductions, and heavens knows what else, all under the nose of a minister of the church! I am,” he concluded, “appalled.”
“I am devastated to hear so, sir. How would you suggest we rectify the situation?” Mr. Teverley did not open his eyes.,
“I don’t know,” Mr. Dunham admitted sourly. “But this sort of thing should not happen, not in a civilized country! I had best offer my services to Mr. Ratherscombe and marry them at once!”
Domenic Teverley’s immediate and outraged protest was forestalled by his cousin.
“I hardly think that that would be wise, sir. I think Miss Pellering will do much better under Miss Prydd’s chaperonage, especially as I doubt she truly wishes to marry Mr. Ratherscombe, whom, I apprehend, is badly in debt, and hanging out for a rich wife.” He waved a hand at his cousin. “Sit down, Dom, and don’t plan any immediate duels with Mr. Ratherscombe. He’s probably a better shot than you are, and I imagine that you will be of more use to Miss Pellering in one piece than two.” He softened his words with a remarkably companionable grin at the boy, then turned to regard Mr. Dunham with a fixed and steely look. “I suggest that you allow yourself to be guided by me, sir. You and I, along with Mrs. Hatcher and Miss—devil take it, what is that female’s name? Prince? Prine?”
“Prydd,” Dom interjected.
“Thank you, coz. We shall, I think, be passable chaperones for Miss Emily, and this evening she can write a note to her family, informing them of her circumstances. By that time, I anticipate no trouble from Mr. Ratherscombe, who doesn’t strike me as the sort who will fight without decent odds at his back. Again, then, gentlemen, I am for a nap.” He cast a significant look at Mr. Dunham, who retired, cowed, to a bench. Then, without another word, Peter Teverley sank again into his chair and slept.
My Dear Jenny Page 2
