A Lady in Disguise

by Cynthia Bailey Pratt

  A very small, extremely tired voice said, “Is the party up here now?”

  All the adults, with the exception of Nora and Gilbert who were otherwise occupied, turned to look at the doorway. Addy, her tiny pale feet peeking out from beneath the ruffled hem of her nightdress, stood before them. Draped over one thin arm was the floppiest of her dolls.

  Seeing her there, unexpectedly, Lillian found a mysterious new tenderness taking hold of her heart. She suddenly knew that it was her responsibility to take care of Addy, not just because she’d been hired as the child’s governess, but because it was her dearest wish, save one.

  Before Thorpe or Lady Genevieve could move, Lillian reached Addy’s side. “No, there’s been some confusion, but everything’s all right now. Come on, I’ll tuck you up again.”

  Addy paid no attention. “Who’s that?” she demanded, pointing at the lieutenant. “And what are they doing?” She squinted in distaste. Gilbert stopped kissing Nora long enough to look over his shoulder and give Addy a broad wink. The little girl giggled, apparently coming quite awake.

  When Addy shook with laughter, Lillian joined in. But Lady Genevieve said sharply, “What is that on your head, Adrienne?”

  Addy, suddenly guilty, clapped her hand over her hair, too late to conceal the strand that glittered there like light turned to stone. “I—I was playing Rajah.”

  “Rajah?” Thorpe asked, coming over to stand beside Lillian He offered her his hand to help her rise.

  Addy said, “Yes, Miss Cole says rajahs are always covered in diamonds. I couldn’t find any ... so, I used these.”

  Thorpe smiled. “Well, Grandmother, I’m happy to say we’ve found your emeralds.”

  As the older woman imperiously summoned the child forward to disengage the necklace from the tangled blond locks, Lillian found herself watching those small fingers with a strange fascination. Surely, the individual stones in Lady Genevieve’s emerald necklace had been much larger than those.

  Thorpe said, “Well, I think this new engagement requires champagne. Becksnaff, is there ... ?”

  Lady Genevieve let out a muffled gasp. Holding up the necklace, she said, “These are not mine! These are sapphires!”

  Everyone pushed forward, except for Lillian, who knew she’d seen that particular necklace often. If it had not been for the mesmerizing effect of Thorpe’s touch, perhaps she would have retained sense enough to see the difference sooner. But there was no use repining now. Lady Genevieve had already begun gently questioning the little girl.

  All too soon Addy said, “I was so dull! Everybody else was dancing, but I couldn’t see anything even when I looked over the railing. All the maids were busy. I couldn’t sleep ‘cause of the music. I wanted to play Rajah. My bed’s an elephant, but I wanted diamonds. I found them in a basket... where? I know I shouldn’t have gone in there but... in her room!” She pointed a small finger at Lillian.

  She had known they would be bound to look at her and had begun to blush before Addy had finished her sentence. There was a dark pressure behind her eyes that blotted out everything in the room except Thorpe.

  He stared at her, the depth of his disenchantment naked in his dark eyes. After a moment that seemed a veritable eternity, he set about casting that spell of cheerfulness and charm that she now knew he used to shield his deepest feelings. “I cannot wait for your explanation, Miss Cole. Don’t hesitate to speak. I’m certain it will be most entertaining.”

  “Explanation?” Mr. Grenshaw said. “What explanation can there possibly be? She’s obviously nothing but a hardened thief, coming here under false pretenses. I have to wonder how many other innocent households she’s insinuated herself into!” He drew himself up like a lay preacher and gave her the sort of look Adam and Eve must have seen in eyes of the archangel when he cast them out of paradise.

  Mrs. Grenshaw seemed to wake up. “I never liked the look of her—nasty, shifty eyes! Corrupting my innocent grandchild with her evil ways! I told you, Thorpe, that such a creature is only out for what she can beg, borrow, or steal! Look at her, standing there so mild! Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but I wouldn’t trust her with cream!”

  Thorpe offered Lillian one of his most dazzling smiles, which pained her more sharply than if he’d upbraided her with harsh words or even offered blows. “You still haven’t said anything, Miss Cole.”

  “I’ve hardly had the chance, Mr. Everard.” Lillian supposed her life must have been sheltered. Certainly, she could recall no pain so sharp as this. Yet, somehow, she managed to speak relatively clearly, controlling the involuntary gasps of agony that threatened to break free from her throat. Thorpe and she had come so close to happiness, and now he was prepared to believe the worst of her. Perhaps it was his pain she felt and not her own. She wanted to reach out to him, but dared not risk his turning away.

  Lady Genevieve said, “I cannot understand what you are making such a noise about. Miss Cole, don’t you think Addy ought to be in bed? It is rather late.”

  Mrs. Grenshaw shrieked anew and hurled her lumpish body between Lillian and Addy. “Are you mad? Would you entrust my poor lamb once more to the care of such a depraved, low creature as that? Thorpe, I demand you summon the constable. I shan’t permit Addy to spend another night under the same roof as this ... this woman!”

  Lady Genevieve said blandly, “Really, such heat over a cheap necklace... .”

  “Cheap?” Mrs. Grenshaw said, sounding much more like a sparrow than the sea gull she’d imitated a moment earlier.

  “Why, yes. The commonest sort of paste. You don’t think an ordinary governess could afford the genuine Burmese stones, do you?”

  “Here,” Mr. Grenshaw said, coming forward with one heavy hand held out. “Let me see those.”

  “Oh, there’s no need. I assure you I am entirely able to distinguish the genuine from the false. I have, after all, a long acquaintance with jewels of all kinds.” With a smile that must have often charmed her husband with its flirtatious defiance, Lady Genevieve popped the necklace down her bodice. Mr. Grenshaw’s fingertips came within a hair of brushing the front of her ladyship’s gown. She stepped back and gave him a look that would have fried a more sensitive person in his boots.

  Frustrated, Mr. Grenshaw all but snarled. Addy merely sighed, much more resigned. “Never mind. Grandfather. We can still play Rajah with Great’s necklace. Where is it?”

  Chapter Twelve

  “How—how should I know? What does the brat mean?” Mr. Grenshaw’s complexion had become that lovely shade of aubergine known as dowager’s purple among the modistes of London.

  Addy patiently added, “Great’s necklace. The necklace you had when I saw you tonight. You know.”

  “You lying little rat... what are you trying ... to send me up Queer Street... ?” With each word, Mr. Grenshaw took a step toward Addy, his hands doubling into fists at his sides. Yet Thorpe was safely there before him, interposing his body between the maddened man and the tiny figure gazing up at him without a care in the world.

  ‘That’s enough!” Thorpe said, putting his hand in the center of Mr. Grenshaw’s chest.

  The rich color ebbed from Mr. Grenshaw’s face, leaving behind traces of fear. “I meant... I meant my twiddly-kitty no harm,” he said, a coaxing tone squeaking in his throat. “Anybody’d get a bit tiffed, hearing things like that. ‘Course she didn’t mean to lie ... just telling a good story on her old grandfather. You had a bad dream, eh, lambsie-bambsie-boo, and just thought you saw me leaving here with the necklace?”

  “I’m not a baby!” Addy proclaimed, taking her father’s hand.

  Thorpe knelt and looked into Addy’s gray eyes. “Now, Addy, this is serious. Tell me what you saw, as exactly as you can. Don’t be frightened.”

  She nodded eagerly to each word, only frowning when he cautioned her against being afraid. Lillian came closer, amazed at the utter ease with which Addy spoke, ignoring as she did the furious adult standing only paces away. “I wanted to play. Ev
eryone was downstairs, then I heard somebody. I looked out the door and over the railing.”

  “You were upstairs?” Thorpe asked.

  The child nodded. “I saw Grandfather come in here. He had a candle. I waited, hoping he’d come out to play or talk to me. Then he came out.”

  “What did he do then?”

  “Really,” Mr. Grenshaw said, the sweat starting to bead on his broad forehead. ‘This is ridiculous. The child couldn’t have seen anything. She was dreaming.”

  “What did he do then, Addy?” Thorpe prompted.

  “He held something up. Like this.” She demonstrated, pretending to hold a candle in one small hand and lifting the other hand to above the level of her eyes. “It shone like the frogs when they’re wet. That’s how I knew it was Great’s necklace. Then he laughed and stuck it in his pocket. I wanted him to come play Rajah, but he didn’t hear me calling. He walked awfully fast.”

  Thorpe said, “Thank you, love.”

  Deliberately, uncoiling his long legs, he stood up, turning at the same time to face Mr. Grenshaw. Lillian caught a glimpse of his eyes, the same color as malachite and as hard. Though the glance was not directed at her, she shivered at its coldness.

  Thorpe extended one broad, bronzed hand. “Give it to me,” he said in a tone that boded ill to anyone unwise enough to offer an argument.

  Mr. Grenshaw stared at Thorpe’s hand, as birds stare at dancing cobras. As though he hated to do it, Mr. Grenshaw raised his eyes a scant inch at a time. Meeting the full force of Thorpe’s anger, he visibly blenched. Then, with an attempt at a carefree shrug, he reached into the pocket of his dressing gown and handed Thorpe a soft white roll of cloth. “I say, you don’t need to open it. Anyone would think you don’t trust me.” He began edging toward the door.

  “Stay where you are,” Thorpe said. The cloth lay empty in his hand. “Where is it? And don’t try any more tricks; I’m simply in no humor for them.”

  Mr. Grenshaw’s face, little by little, had lost all its jollity. “They’re where you won’t find ‘em. If you’d been reasonable and given me the money like I asked, civil like, or if you’d wanted to marry the gel, there wouldn’t have been any need for unpleasantness.”

  Thorpe ignored him. “Becksnaff, search his room ... and his wife’s.”

  “Yes, sir. I shall ask one of the others to help me, sir.”

  “You go, Gilbert,” Nora said. “I don’t want the other servants to know about... this. And I’ll help Mr. Becksnaff with my aunt’s room.”

  “Thank you, Miss Ellis,” the butler said. He and the two young people went out of the room. Nora never glanced back.

  Mr. Grenshaw looked furtively around as though searching for an escape. Then he sank into a chair and put his head in his hands. Lillian almost felt sorry for him, perhaps because all his troubles were his own fault. He asked without looking up, “What—what are you going to do now, Thorpe?”

  “Do?”

  “With me. of course,” Mr. Grenshaw sounded, if anything, slightly insulted. “Are you going to turn me over to the Runners? It’ll mean the nubbing cheat for me if you do. Hanging,” he translated, seeing that everyone looked blank.

  “That’s probably true,” Thorpe answered.

  Giving the impression that she would explode unless she let out some pressure, Mrs. Grenshaw darted forward. “You’re being ridiculous, Thorpe. What are those emeralds to you? You’re so rich you could lose a dozen like them and never miss them. They should have been my Emily’s, anyway. She wouldn’t begrudge her own father the sort of small sum you’ve refused to give him.”

  “I will not be stolen from.” Thorpe turned away, his lips moving as he whispered something. Only Lillian and Addy stood close enough to hear, “Surely every man ...”

  Though they seemed familiar, Lillian could not place the words, and anyway she was immediately distracted by Mrs. Grenshaw screeching, “How dare you turn your back on me! May I remind you that I am still the mother of your wife! If she were alive—”

  Lady Genevieve spoke up. “If your daughter were alive, I for one would not be living in this house. She gave no thought or consideration to anyone save herself.” Mrs. Grenshaw tried to break in, but Lady Genevieve continued as though she were giving a long-rehearsed speech. “Her morals are best not mentioned, but after this behavior of yours tonight, I can see how she came by them. Did you think my grandson would be taken in again by your foolish trickery? Did you think I would allow him to be so blind a second time?”

  Mrs. Grenshaw took in two or three gasping breaths as if the air had suddenly grown too hot for her comfort. “Of all the... When have you ever cared for anyone or anything outside your own precious Everards? You hated my Emily because she wasn’t your handpicked bride for him. You didn’t choose her the way you chose your sons’ wives. Well, she at least loved him!”

  “She loved his fortune!”

  “She had a baby for him!”

  “Speaking of whom,” Lillian said, rapidly interrupting. She indicated Addy by a gesture. The girl stood watching the two women shouting like a pair of low-bred harridans, her head swiveling between the speakers as though she watched court tennis. Both women clapped their mouths closed, though they continued to glare. Lillian added, “You were right, my lady. It is high time she was in bed. Come along, Addy. Say good night to everyone.”

  Despite the drama she’d witnessed, Addy could still smile as she bobbed her childish curtsy. “Good night. Great and Papa, Grandmother and Grandfather.” As Lillian escorted the girl from the room, Addy said, “Is Grandfather really going to be hung?”

  “No, dear, of course not.” Lillian felt, however, as if she were about to be placed in that unfortunate position. Though Lady Genevieve had hidden the sapphires from all other gazes, Lillian did not for a moment assume that the older woman had forgotten about them. As soon as the matter of the Grenshaws was shelved, Lady Genevieve would come demanding answers.

  Lillian tucked the child into her small white bed, searching for the words of wisdom that would calm any fears Addy might be harboring. As she sat on the edge of the bed, she tried to think how to begin. The silence needed to be broken before it became permanent. Seeing on the table a tray holding an empty bowl, she asked, “Did you enjoy your custard?”

  “Oh, yes. Did they give you some at the party?”

  “No, I didn’t have anything to eat.” She’d been too busy drifting in a dream with Thorpe. Concentrating on the small face at her elbow, she began haltingly, “Addy, I—I don’t want you to feel worried or upset by ... anything. Adults are sometimes confused and do silly things. But, all will be well in the morning. I think so anyway.”

  “Miss Cole ... would you ...”

  “Yes, Addy?”

  “Would you tell me about Chani and Noorina again?”

  “Again? I’ve hardly had the chance to tell you any other of my Indian stories.” Could it be that the child did not understand any of the scene she’d just watched, that the expression of heated emotions had passed over her head like a flight of noisy geese?

  “I like that one best,” Addy said, snuggling down beneath the blanket.

  “You never stay awake for all of it.”

  “I will this time. I promise.”

  “Very well.” Once again, Lillian began the tale of the handsome prince and the serving maid. Addy’s rosebud lips moved soundlessly, repeating Noorina’s testament of faith in her beloved. “ ‘I know my Chani will always be faithful.’

  “The city was full of golden spires and silver walls. Sweet smells and happy music filled the air. His companions urged Chani to visit. It would be impolite to ignore the rulers of such magnificence. Listening to his friends, Chani wanted very much to see the city.”

  “He shouldn’t do that,” Addy said, half singing the words.

  “That’s what Noorina thought. She told Chani about the evil queen’s promise. Chani laughed and said, ‘Indeed, I will be faithful. I shall kiss no one but you and that at
dawn when I return.’ He rode away.”

  “And Noorina cried,” Addy prompted.

  “Not yet. First, Chani was greeted by the rajah and his rani who were all resplendent in silks and—and cloth of gold.” The last time, Lillian had said diamonds and pearls, and she’d seen the result of that flight of fancy. “Behind them came a nursemaid carrying their infant prince. Thinking of the children he hoped to have someday, Chani held out his arms for the child. As they laughed and played together, Chani kissed the baby before giving him back. Instantly, all memory of Noorina left his mind, though he’d not changed outwardly. By some chance—”

  “Which was no chance,” Addy said, one second faster than Lillian.

  ‘That’s right. The evil queen arrived at that same moment. Bringing wine, she gave it to Chani, and the love charm she’d slipped into the cup took hold of him.

  “Noorina waited beneath a bountiful bo-tree and ate nothing, though the branches were bent by the weight of the figs. When dawn came without Chani, she sent her maids to find him. But, beguiled by the city’s wonders, they did not return either.”

  “Noorina cried ‘cause she thought Chani didn’t love her anymore.”

  “Exactly. Next time, you can tell this story to me. She waited for three days, crying all the time. She cried so much that she dwindled down into a white flower in the dust by the side of the road.” Addy’s eyes were as big as eggs at the recitation of this miracle.

  “Soon after, an old man, bowed down by hard work, passed by and, stopping to eat the figs, saw the flower. It was so beautiful that he dug it up and took it home to cheer his loneliness. Noorina found her sorrow lessened if she helped another. So every day when the old man went out, she cleaned his house and cooked him fine meals without revealing herself. The old man enjoyed this until he thought perhaps there was some evil spirit behind it. He went to visit a wise old woman who said, ‘When you awake tomorrow, lie still. Seize the first thing in your house that moves and it will answer all your questions.’ “