“I could take him to her for you, my lady,” Mrs. Hopworthy said, slanting a wary look at the monkey.
“Thank you for offering, but I will feel much better if I can hand him over to her myself,” Letty said. “Now that he seems to delight in escaping from people and making such a nuisance of himself—”
“Oh, pray don’t say that he may not visit us again,” Miss Abby said. “That would be so unfair. This was not his fault. Indeed I …” Glancing at the housekeeper and then at Letty, she wrung her hands together. Then, with a sob, she said, “I expect we should go now and tell Miranda what has happened.”
“Yes,” Letty said. “I think we must.”
“I’ll fetch Miss Breton myself, my lady,” the housekeeper said.
“Thank you.” Letty ushered Miss Abby out of the room and up the stairs.
The old lady went reluctantly, and remained uncharacteristically silent.
“Don’t fret so, Miss Abby,” Letty said when they reached the landing outside the rose-scented anteroom. “Mrs. Linford can’t eat any of us, you know.”
“She will be considerably vexed,” Miss Abby said with a sigh, “but in truth I was not thinking of Miranda.”
“You weren’t?”
“No, I was remembering the day you said it sounded like we were running a brothel here. I told you then that it was no such thing, but oh, my dear, I’m afraid it was! Oh, what will Miranda say?”
When they entered the drawing room, Mrs. Linford looked up from her book and said calmly, “I trust everything has settled down now. I cannot conceive of what can have stirred all that row.” She glanced expectantly from Miss Abby to Letty, then added complacently, “I daresay it was that monkey. I must say, my dear, I do not welcome him in my drawing room.”
“No, ma’am,” Letty said. “Jenifry is coming to fetch him. Indeed, I think I hear her coming now.” When Jenifry hurried into the room a few moments later, Letty said, “Take Jeremiah upstairs with you, Jen. He has slipped his chain twice already today, so take care that he does not do so again.”
“Yes, my lady,” Jenifry said, taking Jeremiah and holding him against her shoulder like one might hold a baby. “I should perhaps point out that it is nearly four o’clock, Miss Letty,” she added.
“Mercy, is it? Where has the time gone? I’ll have to change here, Jen. Put out my clothes, and send word to Jonathan that he must have the carriage waiting at the door in half an hour. I cannot be late, but I need ten more minutes before I dress.”
“You’ll never dress in twenty minutes, my dear,” Miss Abby said. “Perhaps you had better go at once.”
“We must talk first,” Letty said firmly.
Miss Abby’s face fell, and she shot an anguished look at her sister. “I expect we must, but I do wish we needn’t, you know.”
“Sit down, Miss Abby,” Letty said gently, taking a seat near Mrs. Linford.
Jenifry turned to leave.
“Wait, Jen,” Letty said. “I want to ask you a question.” When Jenifry turned back, she said, “Did you ever have occasion to speak of the affairs of this house to your friend Walter?”
Blushing furiously, Jenifry looked at Mrs. Linford and Miss Abby before she said earnestly, “I wouldn’t, my lady. You know that I’d never gossip about your affairs or those of people close to you.”
“I do know, Jen. I just needed to hear you say it. Thank you.”
Without a backward glance, Jenifry hurried from the room.
“Now, Miss Abby,” Letty said, “shall I tell it, or would you prefer to tell Mrs. Linford yourself what we learned belowstairs?”
Mrs. Linford said, “You tell me, Letitia, if you please. Abigail never could tell a tale in less than ten minutes, and you do not want to be late to the palace.”
“No, I don’t,” Letty agreed. “Very well, then.” As quickly as she could, and for once without any interruptions from Miss Abby, she explained the situation.
Mrs. Linford listened without speaking. As far as Letty could tell, the only indication that the old woman understood the magnitude of what she was hearing was that she grew slightly paler. When Letty finished, Mrs. Linford was silent for a long moment before she said, “I see. How very dreadful. Do you know how long the maids have been engaging in these unfortunate activities?”
“Mary did not say, ma’am, but I don’t think it can have been long. Mrs. Hopworthy surely would have discovered it by now if they had a long habit of entertaining men in their bedchambers, particularly since Mary said they have been slipping the money they’ve made into the housekeeping jar.”
“Yes, I expect she would, then. My dear, we must not tell Justin about this.”
Letty had been thinking the same thing, but hearing her thought spoken aloud somehow put it in a new perspective. “The reputations of people very close to him could be at risk, ma’am. Your niece, for one. We do not know how much Mr. Morden knows of what has been going on here, but that he was able to seduce a maid is enough if he chooses to broadcast it to the world.”
Anxiously Miss Abby said, “Surely he will not speak. Like all of us, he has his own reputation to think about, does he not?”
“Don’t be foolish, Abigail,” Mrs. Linford said. “Men of his stamp are not like the gentlemen we count as our friends. Mr. Morden has no reputation of any consequence, and thus nothing to lose by saying whatever he pleases.”
“His master does, however,” Letty pointed out. “It is not the same as if Morden were a manservant, of course, but he does serve at Sir John Conroy’s pleasure, I believe, and I doubt that Sir John will want the news made public.”
Miss Abby said more cheerfully, “I’m sure you are right, my dear.”
“Well, he does have his own reputation to consider, and that of at least one other for whom he clearly holds tender feelings,” Letty said tactfully, seeing no reason to name names at this point.
“I don’t like him,” Mrs. Linford said frankly. “Always poking and prying about. The only thing that man really cares about is his position at court.”
“You are right, ma’am, and for that very reason, we must take particular care now. He may think his knowledge more useful against others than it is damaging to himself, and with what Mr. Morden now has to tell him, I think we would be wise to prepare ourselves for the worst. To that end, I believe we must tell Raventhorpe everything. He is not at home presently—”
“Newmarket,” Miss Abby said, nodding.
“Just so, ma’am, but he will be in London tomorrow for the drawing room. I will endeavor to speak to him then or afterward. I must go now,” she added, rising, “but please, don’t worry, either of you. Somehow we will see this through.”
“You are very kind, my dear,” Mrs. Linford said, also rising to her feet.
“Nonsense, ma’am. It is no more than my duty to put things in order here. Oh, and that reminds me! I know you have warned Lady Sellafield to stay away, but did you think to warn Admiral Rame, as well?”
“Admiral Rame? Why on earth should we? He is our very good friend.”
“Well, I thought …” Letty hesitated. “I know you have been very discreet, ma’am, but surely, the man Lady Sellafield meets here has as much right as she does to know that it is no longer safe. I did think briefly that it might be Sir John Conroy, but that was before I saw her at her dinner party with the admiral.”
“Oh, not Sir John,” Miss Abby exclaimed with a shudder. “But not Admiral Rame, either, my dear. He has a new young wife whom he quite adores.”
“I didn’t know,” Letty admitted. “But if it is not the admiral … Really, ma’am, I ought to know who it is, lest I inadvertently say something I’ll regret.”
“There is no harm in your knowing now, I expect,” Mrs. Linford said placidly. “It is Teddy, of course.”
“Teddy? I do remember her mentioning that name. But Teddy who, ma’am?”
“Why, Teddy Witherspoon, of course.”
Letty stared at her, stupefied. “Witherspoon?”
“Yes, my dear. They have known each other since they were children, and I believe she would have married him had her father not insisted that Sellafield was a far greater catch. Indeed, it is my belief that she named dearest Ned after Teddy.”
Letty gasped. “Ned is not Witherspoon’s … That is—Oh, mercy!”
“No, my dear,” Mrs. Linford said. “Simple arithmetic will tell you that Ned cannot be Teddy’s son. Ned is twenty now, after all, and although her relationship with Teddy began years ago, before he married Lady Witherspoon—”
“We think he married her because she looks much like Sally did at the same age, don’t you know,” Miss Abby said.
“Don’t interrupt, Abigail. As I was about to say, my dear, although they began meeting before, once he married Lady Witherspoon, we utterly forbade Sally to meet with him again until after his wife had presented him with an heir. We could not allow any interference with the succession to his title, of course.”
“Of course you couldn’t,” Letty said, feeling weak in the knees though she was sitting down.
Miss Abby’s eyes twinkled. “Have we not been clever to keep Teddy from finding out about Catherine? It was a near thing more than once, too, I can tell you, because Catherine’s young man likes to make plans on the instant, but we did not feel we could deny her when we had been letting Teddy meet Sally here for years.”
Before Letty could think of anything to say to that, the door from the anteroom opened, and Jenifry entered to say, “Miss Letty, it’s gone well over the ten minutes. If you don’t—”
“Mercy, I must fly,” Letty said. “I’ll tell Raventhorpe to do nothing further without telling me. In the meantime, though, pray do nothing yourselves to make matters worse, and be sure your servants understand that they must admit no one.”
Although she dressed as quickly as she could, and Jonathan and Lucas had the carriage at the door when she ran down again, they reached Buckingham Palace with only minutes to spare. Leaving Jeremiah in Lucas’s care, she rushed in at the side entrance with Jenifry, hoping to avoid a meeting with Lady Tavistock or anyone else who would demand to know where she had been. Unfortunately, she met her ladyship on the first landing.
“Why, there you are, Letitia,” that haughty dame said with a frown. “I decided to look in on you myself, to see if you were feeling more the thing.”
“You need not tell me,” Lady Tavistock said. “I can see that you have changed your gown, and assume that you returned to Jervaulx House to do so. It is unfortunate that you did not simply send your woman to collect some things. Under the circumstances, that would have been much wiser, I should think.”
“Yes, your ladyship,” Letty said meekly.
“We must go directly to the front hall. Her Majesty’s party will have assembled by now, but with luck we can be there before she arrives.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Letty said. Signing dismissal to Jenifry, she hurried in Lady Tavistock’s wake, suppressing the guilt she felt at having deceived the woman. The last thing she needed now was to have to explain everything.
The royal party reached the theater shortly before seven o’clock, and The Maid of Palaiseau, based on one of Mr. Rossini’s operas, began shortly afterward. Madame Albertazzi, who was making her first appearance for the season as the persecuted but finally triumphant maid, was a favorite with the audience. Her entrance onto the stage was the signal for an enthusiastic and prolonged welcome, in which those gracing the dress circle and the private boxes took a decided part.
As Letty looked around the theater during the clamorous applause, she noted that while patrons occupied nearly every space available in pit, gallery, and box, the boxes straight across from theirs remained empty. Remembering similar empty boxes in European theaters she had visited on royal occasions, she wondered if perhaps they remained so to prevent a would-be assassin from taking up a position directly opposite the queen.
The thought sent a shiver up her spine. She was standing behind Victoria and a little to her right, because even in the theater, members of the queen’s party did not sit in her presence. If an assassin’s aim was off by the slightest amount, Letty realized that she herself made an excellent target.
As the play progressed, she forgot her imaginings, caught up in the splendor of the production. Madame Albertazzi was charming, and unlike many of her contemporaries, she did not overdramatize her part but played it naturally, making one feel that the character she portrayed was real. The audience remained unusually silent, as caught up in the story as Letty was. Thus, when the first act ended amidst a thunder of applause, it took a moment more before she realized that the box directly opposite theirs was no longer empty. The gentleman seated there raised a hand to her in greeting. The lady beside him smiled widely.
Even then, so much did she feel as if she had wakened from a dream that she did not instantly recognize them. When she did, however, she exclaimed, “Mercy, it’s Mama and Papa!” Turning without another thought to Lady Tavistock, she said, “Oh, ma’am, pray excuse me for a few minutes? My parents have arrived, and I should very much like to welcome them.”
Lady Tavistock said austerely, “When one is attending Her Majesty, Letitia, one does not ask to be excused. Moreover—”
To Letty’s astonishment, Victoria said, “Let her go, Anna Maria. She has not seen them in over a month. Do not dawdle, Letitia.”
“No, Your Majesty. Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Victoria said nothing more, but Lady Tavistock said evenly, “Go then, Letitia, but I find it rather extraordinary that you did not meet your parents at Jervaulx House since you barely managed to return before we left the palace.”
Bobbing a curtsy, Letty made no effort to reply to that, and backed to the entrance of the royal box with more speed than grace. Fearing at any moment to hear either Lady Tavistock or Victoria call her back, she did not breathe naturally until she was outside in the corridor with the door to the royal box shut behind her. Picking up her skirts then, she fairly ran past the stair landing to the other side of the house, slowing there only because she was uncertain which door she wanted.
As she hesitated, a door opened and a petite dark-haired woman stepped into the corridor. When her gaze fell upon Letty, her dark blue eyes twinkled merrily.
Letty hurled herself into her mother’s arms. “Mama!”
“Darling. Oh, how glad I am to see you!” Daintry Tarrant Deverill, Marchioness of Jervaulx and Countess of Abreston, hugged her daughter tightly for a long moment, then held her away to look at her.
The two were much the same size, and in the glow of lamplight in the corridor, they looked closer in age than one might expect. The marchioness, at forty-three, retained both her slim figure and the roses-and-cream complexion of her youth. If a few gray threads had invaded her ebony curls, they remained invisible without stronger light. Her smile was merry, revealing still white, even teeth.
She turned back toward the box she had come from and said, “Gideon, come and say hello to your daughter.”
At once Gideon Deverill, seventh Marquess of Jervaulx, stepped forward. “Thought I’d give you two a moment alone first,” he said, holding his arms wide to welcome Letty.
As she stepped into them, Letty sighed with pleasure and the sense of safety she always enjoyed when he hugged her. “Papa, I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you both even more than I’d expected.”
“We’ve missed you, too, ducky.”
Over six feet tall and still as broad-shouldered and powerful-looking as ever, the marquess, at fifty-three, looked like a man in his forties. His hair had greyed more than his wife’s had, but his tanned complexion and upright posture made the grey seem premature. Believing him to be one of the handsomest men she knew, Letty could think of only one other whose good looks could compare with his.
“I can’t stay,” she said. “Lady Tavistock didn’t want me to leave, but Her Majesty said I might.”
Daintry said, “You look tired, dar
ling.”
“Do I?” Letty felt heat in her cheeks, and she was glad for the dim light. Even so, and much as she wanted to linger, she knew that she could not. Her parents would soon see that she had things on her mind that she was not mentioning to them. They were astute at such things, as she had frequently discovered in the past.
Even as these thoughts sped through her mind, Gideon said teasingly, “We’ve not heard of any explosions at court, so you must be behaving yourself. Have you learned anything more about why Benthall left you his house?”
“No,” she said, glad that he had asked a specific question that she could answer with absolute truth. “I had hoped that you could tell me.”
“I can’t yet,” he said. “The duke collected a list for me of people with whom Benthall corresponded, and I mean to ask them if they can cast any light on the puzzle. He seems to have indulged in quite a voluminous correspondence.”
“It was kind of Wellington to take an interest,” Letty said, having no doubt to which duke her father referred. “Did you hear about the rumors of his death?”
“Yes, we stopped at Apsley House when we first arrived in town,” Gideon said. “There is nothing more evident than that the Melbourne government is worn to the stump and must fall any day now, the duke says. The Jamaican crisis is bringing everything to a head. The Whigs depend upon a coalition of their liberal and moderate wings to hold everything together, you see, and it is rapidly unraveling.”
“You can’t talk politics now, you two,” Daintry said with a laugh. “Letty has to get back to her duties. Will you come home after the theater, darling?”
“No, I am to make part of the royal dinner party tonight, so I will be late. Do you and Papa attend the drawing room tomorrow?”
“Yes, your papa has the entrée, of course, and the duke procured our carriage ticket for us yesterday. We are to meet a number of our friends in the Ambassadors’ Court, but you need not wait till then to see us, you know. I’ll wait up for you tonight, my love. Come to my sitting room as soon as you come in.”
“I will,” Letty promised.
Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 04] Page 26
