by Sandra Heath
Katy swallowed and bobbed a hasty curtsy. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
Without a word, Miss Hart rose majestically from her golden sofa and came to examine the tray. On it stood a gleaming silver coffeepot, a blue-and-white porcelain cup and saucer, and a small dish of freshly baked Shrewsbury cakes. The headmistress gave a grudging nod of approval. “It will do.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Then, with a darting movement Miss Hart snatched the girl’s wrist and held her hand accusingly aloft to reveal the fingerless mittens which had been absolutely forbidden. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded in a quivering voice.
“Ma’am?” Katy’s eyes were huge.
“You are wearing mittens.”
“But, ma’am, it’s so very cold and—”
“Countess Lieven has expressly forbidden the wearing of mittens in the house, as you are perfectly well aware, Briggs.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, ma’am, I didn’t think.”
“Think? Think? You aren’t here to think, girl, you’re here to do as you’re told!”
“Yes, ma’am.” The maid’s voice was scarcely audible.
Miss Hart slowly released her wrist. “Remove them immediately.”
Katy hastened to obey, pushing the offending articles into her apron pocket.
“Disobey any rule in the future, or question anything, anything at all, and you will be dismissed immediately, is that quite clear?” This last was said with a sly sideways glance at Miss Ross and Mlle. Clary, upon whom the barb was not lost.
Katy was striving to hide her tears. “Yes, ma’am,” she whispered.
“Very well, you may now take Miss Conyngham’s tray to her. And, Briggs?”
“Ma’am?”
“Tell her that I would be most grateful if she would kindly assist at tea this afternoon. Countess Lieven will be here, with her cousin Miss Benckendorff and a gentleman guest.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And, Briggs?”
The maid’s heart sank again. “Ma’am?”
“Be less clumsy with the tray as you leave. I dislike hearing teacups clattering.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Thankfully Katy picked the tray up again, balancing it on one hand and biting her lip with concentration as she opened the heavy door and stepped out into the chilly passage beyond. The tray did not make even the slightest sound.
As she went up the staircase, Katy paused on the half-landing at the back of the house, looking out of the frosty window at the long, narrow garden which extended to the gardens of the houses in parallel South Audley Street. It was a pleasant garden, with plane trees, poplars, and a weeping willow which draped its graceful fronds over a frozen ornamental pond. Directly below, beneath the ground-floor windows of the visitors’ room, stood two stone sphinxes, white with ice now as they gazed solidly at the wintry scene. Down one side of the garden extended the wing of the seminary which contained the schoolrooms, while the opposite side was marked only by the high brick wall which separated the property from the one next to it.
Katy stared out at the eastern sky, beyond the houses of South Audley Street. There was a certain luminosity about that sky as the sun rose behind the pall of fog. She knew by that luminosity that today the fog would at last lift. She smiled with anticipation. Perhaps she and Miss Leonie would be able to go for another walk in the park, and perhaps too they would see the mysterious gentleman who had so nearly spoken the last time. Humming a little, the maid hurried on up the stairs.
Leonie gave a guilty start and hid the book as the door opened. “Oh, it’s only you, Katy. I thought I’d been caught doing the forbidden!”
Katy grinned, but all the same glanced a little nervously back into the passage, as if she expected to see Miss Hart standing there. “You mustn’t call me that, Miss Leonie, Miss Hart’d have the vapors if she found out!”
“If I know Miss Hart, she’s safely ensconced in her warm parlor and has no intention of leaving it for the time being, not when it’s as cold as this.”
Katy set the tray carefully on Leonie’s lap and then hesitated, reluctant to leave straightaway. “May I stay for a while, Miss Leonie?”
“You know that you can—unless you have some other duties. You haven’t, have you?”
“No, Mrs. Durham said I could talk with you if you did not mind.”
Leonie smiled, sniffing the still-warm Shrewsbury cakes. “I see that Mrs. Durham has been busy in the kitchens already this morning.”
“Yes, Miss Leonie.”
“Would you like one?” Leonie held out the dish.
Shyly Katy took one. She loved these moments with Leonie, whom she adored because she was so kind and natural, and without the unkindness which seemed so often to be the mark of young ladies at the seminary. Suddenly she remembered the head mistress’s instructions. “Oh, Miss Leonie, I almost forgot! Miss Hart said would you help at tea this afternoon.”
Leonie groaned. “Not our beloved benefactress again!”
“Yes. And her cousin Miss Benckendorff and a gentleman.”
Leonie pulled a face. “It sounds awful. Still, I suppose I will have to do as I’m asked. I’m glad I’m leaving this place. That wretched Russian woman has made it quite horrible here.”
“Yes,” agreed Katy with immense feeling.
Leonie looked quickly at her. “Has something else happened?”
“I forgot to take off my mittens and Miss Hart caught me, I’m to be dismissed if anything like that happens again.”
Leonie smiled and leaned over to squeeze the maid’s cold little hand. ‘Well, you’ll be leaving soon anyway, and then you can thumb your nose at all of them.”
Katy smiled hesitantly. “I still can’t really believe you want me to be your maid. Miss Leonie.”
“I wouldn’t go away and leave you here.”
“Yes, but to be your personal maid! I mean, I don’t know all the things I’ll need to know, and—”
“And you’ll soon pick them up.” Leonie smiled at her again. “You’ll make an excellent lady’s maid, Katy, I know that you will.” She glanced toward the window then. “It looks as horrid as ever out there, which I suppose means being cooped up inside again.”
“I think the sun will break through soon. It looked as if it would when I looked out of the landing window.” Katy went to the window and peeped out.
To the west, over Hyde Park, there was little sign of the hoped-for sun. It was still very cold and white, almost as if snow had fallen. The herd of cows from the dairy in Queen Street was being driven in through the park gates, their breath even whiter than the fog and frost. There was a little traffic in the street now; a private carriage was making its slow way north toward Tyburn, its team picking their way carefully over the icy surface, and a donkey cart laden with holly and mistletoe was proceeding in the opposite direction toward Piccadilly, where normally the congestion was so great at the narrow junction that tempers were always frayed.
“Well?” said Leonie. “Do you think it will be fine?”
“It’s hard to tell from this side of the house, but I do think it’s getting brighter,” Katy glanced back at the bed, “Miss Leonie?”
“Yes?”
“Do you…do you think he’ll be there again?” she asked hesitantly, for she knew Leonie’s low opinion of the mysterious gentleman.
“I sincerely hope not, for there was something about him for which I didn’t care in the slightest.”
Katy was puzzled. “I know, because you said so at the time, but I don’t understand why. I mean, he was so very handsome—”
“And was conceitedly aware of the fact. He wasn’t at all nice, Katy, I could tell it by the look in his eyes. His interest in me was anything but gallant and honorable, and nothing on earth would have allowed me to acknowledge him had he indeed had the audacity to speak. I took considerable delight in cutting him, and I shall do so again if we see him.”
“Even if he speaks to you?�
�
“Especially then.”
Chapter 4
Later in the morning the pale winter sun at last broke through, and Miss Hart grudgingly gave her permission for Katy to accompany Leonie on her walk. They set off shortly before midday, Leonie once again in her cream mantle and pink-ribboned bonnet, Katy in her neat gray cloak. The improvement in the weather lured many to the park. There was more skating on the frozen Serpentine, and as on their last walk, they stopped to watch.
Katy glanced hopefully around for Leonie’s unwanted admirer, but to her disappointment there was no sign of him. Leonie felt no such disappointment at his absence, for she had meant every word she said about him and had no desire at all to be confronted by a man she instinctively distrusted and disliked.
Walking back toward the park gates afterward, Leonie found herself gazing at the seminary, which had been her home for so long now. Soon she would be leaving it forever, going through the little ritual farewell ceremony which she had seen so many others go through in the past. She would be invited to the visitors’ room, where the entire school would be gathered and where she would take a glass of wine with Miss Hart. Then she would be presented with a bouquet of flowers and two handsome leather-bound volumes of prayers, each one embossed in gold with her initials. Inside, on blank pages provided specifically for the purpose, Miss Hart would have written: “Miss Conyngham, with every kind and affectionate wish.” The headmistress would then give a carefully prepared speech, and after that Leonie Conyngham would step out of the house and into her father’s waiting carriage, to be driven away to her dazzling new life.
She walked more slowly, remembering some previous departures, some decorous, others the very opposite. When impetuous, warmhearted Athena Raleigh had left, requested to do so on account of her rather-too-frequent meetings with young army officers in the park, Miss Hart had hypocritically delivered her usual speech, expressing her sorrow at losing so excellent a young lady; Athena had repaid this preposterous insincerity by delivering a retaliatory speech which left Miss Hart with a very red face and the rest of the school struggling to hide its delight and mirth. That day had certainly been the highlight of an otherwise dull term. Another term had been highlighted by the departure of Lady Imogen Longhurst, the tall, beautiful, spiteful daughter of the Earl of Wadford. Imogen’s capacity for unkindness and insincerity more than matched Miss Hart’s, and she was cordially disliked by most of the other pupils, especially Leonie, whom she had selected time and time again over the years as the object of her clever malice. The fact that the Earl and Countess of Wadford had been present at their daughter’s leaving ceremony had produced in Imogen an amazing skill as an actress. Obviously concerned that her parents might wonder at the lack of sorrow the other young ladies showed at their daughter’s departure, she had drawn all attention to herself by weeping copious tears and promising to visit them all again as soon as she possibly could. To everyone’s immense relief, no such visit was forthcoming.
Reaching the park gates, Leonie paused on the pavement, pondering the unfairness of life, for Athena, who had had so many friends, had eloped to Gretna Green with a scoundrel who’d made her very unhappy and had then deserted her. She now lived in severely reduced circumstances in Bath, disowned by her outraged family. Cold, scheming Imogen, on the other hand, had become the undisputed belle of the 1813 Season, and in the new year would be announcing her betrothal to Sir Guy de Lacey, a very handsome and wealthy gentleman who had fallen hopelessly in love with her at first sight. Leonie could only unkindly conclude that there must be something seriously wrong with Sir Guy’s eyes, as well as his judgment. Had there been any justice, she thought with a sad sigh, then things would have turned out in the opposite way, and odious Imogen would be languishing in Bath, while softhearted, lovable Athena basked in the adoration of a man like Sir Guy!
“Miss Leonie!” cried Katy suddenly, tugging at her arm and pointing behind. “He’s there again, look!”
Leonie turned quickly and saw two gentlemen riding across the park toward the gates. The man who had watched them the week before was riding a fine gray thoroughbred. He was dressed in a dark green coat and beige breeches, and he had not as yet noticed them. Beside him, the other gentleman was mounted on a large black horse. He was taller than his companion and about the same age, and his thin face had a quick, clever look. His eyes were so blue that the clearness of the color could be seen even at that distance, and his hair was a rich auburn which somehow made him seem oddly familiar to Leonie. In fact, everything about him suggested that she should know him, and yet she knew that she didn’t. She did know, however, that she instinctively disliked him as much as she did her unknown admirer. They were two of a kind.
At that moment her admirer saw her and reined in immediately, leaning over to point her out to his companion. The second man looked quickly toward her then, his blue eyes very sharp and shrewd.
Leonie didn’t hesitate; she caught a startled Katy by the arm and propelled her across Park Lane, which was much more busy now. A brewer’s wagon had to come to a sudden standstill or risk knocking them down, and the wagoner shouted furiously after them, waving his dirty fist, but Leonie didn’t even glance around. Reaching the seminary door, she knocked anxiously, and to her relief, Joseph, the Negro footman, admitted them almost immediately.
“Miz Leonie?” he cried in astonishment as she and Katy almost rushed into the vestibule.
She didn’t reply, but quickly peeped around the lace curtain of the tall, narrow window beside the door. The two riders had proceeded as far as the park gates, but no farther. They looked across at the seminary for a moment and then turned away, their horses moving at a mere walk toward the Serpentine.
Katy pushed close to her. “Who are they, Miss Leonie?”
“I don’t know, but somehow I feel as if I should know the second man, the one with the bright auburn hair.”
Katy nodded. “I know what you mean, he looked familiar to me too.”
“He did?” Leonie turned quickly to Joseph. “Joseph, come here quickly. Do you see the two gentlemen on horses?”
“Yes, Miz Leonie.”
“Do you recognize either of them?”
“No, ma’am. Except—”
“Yes?”
“Well, the one with the red hair reminds me, well, of Lady Imogen Longhurst.”
Leonie stared at him and then looked quickly out again, but the two riders had passed out of sight among the trees. Joseph was right, the second man had looked like Imogen, and that was why he’d seemed familiar. Imogen had a brother, her twin, Lord Edward Longhurst, and he was a notorious rake. He’d also set a record because his name had appeared more often in White’s betting book than anyone else’s, which was quite an achievement in a society devoted to gambling and wagering of one sort or another.
Slowly she turned back into the firelit vestibule, with its cream silk walls and elegant crimson chairs and sofa. It had been no coincidence that those two gentlemen had been riding in the park like that; every instinct told her that they had been hoping to encounter her once more.
Katy glanced concernedly at her. “Are you all right, Miss Leonie?”
“Hm?”
“Are you all right? You’ve gone so very quiet.”
Leonie turned with a brisk smile. “I’m quite all right, I was just thinking that in future I’ll walk somewhere else, but definitely not anywhere near the park.”
Katy nodded. “Yes, Miss Leonie.”
Leonie took a deep breath and smiled at Joseph. “Do you think Mrs. Durham could be prevailed upon to make some tea? I’m absolutely freezing.”
The footman smiled. “I’m sure she can, Miz Leonie. Oh, and, Miz Leonie?”
“Yes?”
“Miz Hart said to remind you when you returned that the countess will be here promptly at four.”
Leonie sighed. “Very well. Thank you, Joseph.”
He gave her a sympathetic smile and went away toward the kitchens.
&
nbsp; Leonie glanced at the long-case clock in the corner and then grimaced. “Two and a half hours to go, and then it will be all manners and p’s and q’s, all Russia and Smolny, then more Russia and more Smolny, a few new rules, some criticisms, and then even more Russia and Smolny. Oh, how I wish the wretched woman would go back to her precious St. Petersburg and leave us all in peace. And I wish she’d take Miss Benckendorff with her, and probably the gentleman who’s going to be with them today, for he’s bound to be Russian too, and equally as odious!”
* * *
But the countess’s gentleman guest certainly wasn’t Russian, he was very English, and he had just taken his leave of Lord Edward Longhurst and was riding back through Mayfair to his magnificent town house in Grosvenor Square. There he would change before driving to Harley Street to join the countess and her cousin Nadia. In two and a half hours’ time he would come face to face at last with Leonie, just as he had planned to do from the very outset.
Chapter 5
Dorothea Lieven usually made a point of arriving late for appointments, but today she was early. The carriage which was to convey her and her two companions to tea at the seminary left the embassy in Harley Street at half-past three precisely. It was Count Lieven’s carriage, and as befitted the czar’s representative at the Court of St. James’s, it was very grand indeed, with the imperial coat-of-arms emblazoned on its gleaming blue panels. Drawn by a matched team of four fine bays, it proceeded at a brisk pace along Oxford Street toward Tyburn and the northern end of Park Lane. The December sun was sinking in a blaze of crimson and gold beyond Hyde Park, and long, cold shadows were reaching over the frozen ground. Soon it would be dark again, and already the haze of mist and fog was beginning to gather beneath the trees.
