by Sandra Heath
Nadia could barely contain her delight. “Well, to be sure, it is as well that Miss Conyngham has reasonable looks, for she will need them if she’s to find a protector.”
Guy watched them. Dear God, how society adored a scandal, and how little sympathy it showed for innocent victims. Imogen’s attitude angered him, but Nadia’s stirred his complete and utter loathing. He was filled with a desire to wipe that feline smile from her lips. He toyed with his cuff. “Oh, I don’t think the lady will need to resort to that sort of protection, Miss Benckendorff,” he said smoothly.
“No? What else do you suggest for someone without anywhere to go, and without a penny to her name? And what a name!” She laughed, contemplating the forthcoming stir the whole affair would cause.
“What do I suggest?” he replied lightly. “Oh, I was thinking more along the lines of a post as companion.”
Nadia sat up a little. “Oh. Well, I suppose there are such positions.”
As you know well enough, he thought, since that is exactly what you were in St. Petersburg. He smiled. “Yes, there are indeed such situations, and it so happens that I know of the perfect one for Miss Conyngham.”
“You do?” Nadia was wary now, having caught the steely glint in his dark eyes.
“Yes. The Duchess of Thornbury is seeking a companion.”
Nadia froze. “Oh, no, I think you are wrong, Sir Guy.”
“So do I!” snapped Imogen angrily.
Guy was angry himself, and for once completely immune to Imogen. He pursued his course. “I’m not wrong,” he said quietly, “for I spoke to her only this morning.”
Nadia’s green eyes flashed and she looked away from him. The thought of Leonie being the duchess’s companion was simply not to be tolerated, for Rupert lived in his mother’s town house.
Guy was taking great delight in ruffling her spiteful feathers. “The duchess was bemoaning her loneliness,” he went on, “and as you well know, she is a very kindly lady, so she would most certainly show compassion to one as unfortunate as Miss Conyngham. Yes, the more I think of it, the more I’m convinced that it is the perfect solution. I must make a point of calling on the duchess.”
Nadia loathed him suddenly, knowing that he would do just that. He was right about the duchess: she was indeed too soft and kindhearted, and she was quite likely to take Leonie under her motherly wing. That was something which must at all costs be avoided.
Imogen looked crossly at him, rightly suspecting him of deliberately trying to upset Nadia.
He felt the moment had come to withdraw. He glanced at Imogen. “Would you care to dance?” he asked.
“No,” she replied, “I would not.”
He said nothing, but turned on his heel and walked from the orangery.
Chapter 11
The ball was over and the guests had all departed. Dorothea was in her boudoir reclining on a chaise longue. She was sipping hot chocolate from a silver cup, and she was offering tasty tidbits to her pug. She glanced up as Nadia entered. “I wondered how long it would be before you came. I suppose you want to talk about this wretched Conyngham business.”
“You know that I do.”
“I can’t do anything about it. If Sir Guy calls upon the duchess as he threatened, then that is the end of it.”
“I don’t want Leonie Conyngham anywhere near Rupert.”
“I’m sure you don’t, she’s far too pretty.”
Nadia looked angrily at her, “I don’t need reminding of that. Oh, Dorothea, we have to do something.”
“Would you like me to ask Sir Guy not to do anything?” inquired Dorothea a little sarcastically.
“Don’t be disagreeable, Dorothea.”
“It’s you who are being disagreeable. I’ve had a very tiring day and merely wish to relax—you come here with all your troubles.”
“Don’t you want me to be the next Duchess of Thornbury?”
Dorothea looked at her and then nodded, putting down the dish of tidbits. The pug immediately jumped down to snuffle at them. Dorothea fondly stroked its head. “Ah, Baryshna,” she murmured, “how you love your little treats.” She sat up then, giving Nadia her full attention. “So, we must see to it that Leonie Conyngham does not go to the Duchess of Thornbury. Am I correct?”
“Yes.”
“It’s simple.”
Nadia’s lips parted in astonishment. “It is?”
“Of course. We must see to it that she remains at the seminary.”
“How?”
“The assistant schoolteacher left recently. It will be a simple matter to persuade Miss Hart that Leonie Conyngham is an ideal replacement. After all, she does know everything they teach there.”
Nadia stared, but then gave a dismissive laugh. “I can’t imagine anyone in her right mind preferring such a post to being companion to a duchess!”
“Then she must be prevailed upon,” replied Dorothea a little testily. “There must be outstanding fees which can be demanded of her, a sum which she would feel honor-bound to pay back. Miss Hart must draw up a rather inflated bill, and there must also be a binding agreement, something which once signed will keep your wretched Leonie in her place. I will speak to Miss Hart in the morning and by this time tomorrow night your rival will be chained.” She glanced shrewdly at Nadia. “That is not to say, however, that it will be the end of your precious Rupert’s interest in her.”
“I know.”
“It’s up to you whether his interest strays, isn’t it?” said Dorothea softly. “Now, then, I don’t wish to discuss your tiresome amours anymore, especially as my own are in such a disagreeable state.”
“But—”
“Nadia! Don’t be difficult. I’ve promised to do what I can. There isn’t anything more to be said.”
Nadia got up and left, but as she walked back toward her own room, she thought of something which made her stop. Dorothea’s plan was all very well, but it depended somewhat on Leonie not being able to pay the outstanding fees at the seminary. Nadia remembered the clothes Leonie had been wearing at tea that afternoon; she had had a pearl necklace which, if sold, would more than meet any figure Miss Hart might present her with. And if there was a pearl necklace, who could say what other items there might be in her jewel box? And then there were her clothes and other accessories. The possibility was only too strong that Leonie would be able to pay any debts and still be free to go to the Duchess of Thornbury, which post would definitely be offered to her if Guy de Lacey had his way.
Nadia paused by the window, breathing on the frozen glass to stare out at the bitter night. The fog swirled secretively and Harley Street was almost completely obscured. She could just see the pale glow of a streetlamp, and icy, gleaming cobbles beneath it.
There were footsteps in the passage behind her and she turned to see a footman approaching. He was a tall, muscular fellow, with sly eyes and a smile which was just a little too ready. He was also one of the few Englishmen employed at the embassy, and she had very swiftly learned that he was prepared to do anything, no matter how far removed from the letter of the law, provided the price was right.
She smiled a little then, and waited until he had come closer. “I wish to speak with you,” she said.
He halted, his crafty eyes sharp and quick. “Madam?”
“I have something…delicate for you to do.”
“There’s no one more delicate than I, madam.”
“It’s to be hoped you’re right, for you mustn’t be caught. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly, madam.”
“Very well. I wish you to break into the seminary in Park Lane tonight. You will be well rewarded if you successfully remove certain items. You may dispose of them as you will. I have no interest in them beyond wishing them to vanish. Do you understand?”
“Yes, madam.” He smiled.
* * *
Leonie awoke on Christmas Eve morning to the sound of music from the street outside. A fiddler and a blind penny-whistler were playing carols b
y the park gates. The fog was still thick, and the park white with frost. The fire in the bedroom had been lit for some time, the flames licking quietly around the glowing coals.
Katy brought in the early-morning tray. “Good morning, Miss Leonie,” she said cheerily, for she adored Christmas.
“Good morning.” Leonie sat up and pulled her shawl quickly around her shoulders as the maid put the tray carefully on her lap.
“It’s as cold as ever outside,” said Katy, going to the fire to warm her hands for a moment.
“You don’t have to sound so pleased about it,” replied Leonie, grimacing at the frost patterns on the window.
“I love Christmas Eve, it’s my favorite day in all the year.” Something suddenly caught the maid’s eye. The wardrobe doors were slightly ajar, and yet she knew she’d closed them properly the night before. “That’s strange,” she murmured, going to close them, but as she did so she gave a start of dismay. “Oh, Miss Leonie!”
“What is it?”
“Your clothes! They’ve gone!” The maid flung open the heavy doors to reveal a virtually empty rail upon which only a plain gray wool dress remained. A white silk gown had fallen among the ransacked hat boxes at the bottom of the cupboard, but apart from those two items, everything else had gone, even the shoes and ankle boots. Katy turned quickly toward the dressing table, but the thief had been very thorough. The silver brushes and comb had gone, and all the little porcelain dishes. The jewel boxes had vanished. Everything of value had been removed.
Leonie stared, a cold finger of alarm touching her. While she had lain asleep, someone had been in her room, stealthily going through her belongings.
Katy hurried quickly away to tell Miss Hart, and a moment later the disconcerted headmistress had dispatched Joseph to bring a constable. The constable came straightaway to carry out a thorough examination of the premises and make a list of all the stolen articles, but he could give Leonie little hope of ever retrieving anything. Miss Hart reassured Leonie that she would be provided with sufficient funds to furnish herself with a temporary wardrobe, pending her father’s imminent return. The constable then carried out a final inspection, closely examining all the windows, and in particular the fig tree growing against the balcony. He pointed to several broken twigs and the scrape marks of boots upon the trunk and said that in his opinion that was how the thief had gained entry. Leonie and Katy exchanged glances, knowing that the marks had been left by Rupert, but they said nothing at all. Miss Hart promised to see that the tree was cut back, and then the constable departed.
Miss Hart immediately provided Leonie with a cloak, bonnet, and shoes of her own, and dispatched her with Katy to a dressmaker in Oxford Street who was known always to have a number of clothes available for emergencies. The visit proved reasonably successful, and Leonie came away with two dresses, a warm cloak, and a bonnet lined with white velvet. The gowns, one pale green and the other a rather muddy donkey brown, were acceptable only for the time being, for they weren’t exactly to her taste and she didn’t at all care for their particularly large puffed sleeves, but under the circumstances she felt that they would have to do. She and Katy then proceeded to a nearby shoemaker’s shop and purchased some shoes and another pair of ankle boots, then walked home through the cold to Park Lane. Dorothea Lieven’s carriage was drawn up at the curb outside the seminary.
Chapter 12
Leonie had just put on her new green dress when she was summoned to the visitors’ room by a rather uneasy Mlle. Clary. The Frenchwoman was at great pains to avoid catching Leonie’s eye, and she hurried away the moment her message had been delivered. Leonie was puzzled as she went down the stairs.
The moment she entered the visitors’ room, she sensed that something was very wrong. The headmistress wasn’t alone, Dorothea and Nadia were with her, and the latter looked sleek with vindictive anticipation, as if she could hardly wait for something to happen. The atmosphere was palpably strained.
Apprehension suddenly coursed through Leonie, and for the second time that day a cold finger of unease seemed to reach out to touch her. “You wished to see me, Miss Hart?”
The headmistress nodded. “I do. Miss Conyngham. I’m afraid that the countess is the bearer of sad news.”
Leonie noticed that she wasn’t invited to take a seat, but was left standing before them, almost as if she were on trial. “Sad news?”
Dorothea sat forward a little. “I’m sorry to have to inform you that your father is dead. Of a fever.”
Leonie stared at her. “No,” she whispered, “no, it cannot be—”
“It is so, Miss Conyngham,” went on Dorothea’s hard, dry, unfeeling voice. “News of his demise was brought to me last night and I was requested to tell you. There is more.”
“More?” Leonie hardly heard her. Her head was spinning and she felt almost faint. Please, don’t let it be true. Don’t let it be true.
“Your father died penniless and ruined.”
How harshly it was said, without any consideration whatsoever. Leonie felt numb, her dark eyes huge with disbelief and anguish as she listened to the story of embezzlement and gold mines. “I don’t believe it,” she whispered when Dorothea had finished, “I don’t believe any of it. My father wouldn’t—”
“But he did, Miss Conyngham,” interrupted Dorothea, “and as a consequence you are left in very embarrassing circumstances. There is a matter of outstanding fees and so on, matters which would be settled by relatives if you had any. But you don’t, do you, Miss Conyngham?”
“No.” Leonie’s reply was barely audible. The awfulness of what had happened was beginning to be borne in on her. The chill in their eyes as they looked at her now was a solemn portent of what lay ahead.
Dorothea was relentless. “I understand that you would have had items of value which you could have sold to meet these debts, but that you have unfortunately had them stolen.” The black eyes moved briefly toward Nadia, whose satisfied smile was a little too easy to read.
“Yes,” replied Leonie.
“Well, I’m afraid that that leaves you in an even more embarrassing position, especially as I’m given to understand that this very morning you were provided with funds with which to purchase some replacement clothes. Is that correct?”
“Yes.” Leonie was struggling to regain her poise.
“Then it must be obvious to you that something has to be done in order to settle these matters. You are no longer a privileged lady of leisure, Miss Conyngham, in fact you are the very opposite, and from this moment on you will have to work for your living.” She paused. “We aren’t without sympathy for your tragic situation, and it is our desire to help you if we possibly can.”
“Help me?”
“By offering you a position here at the seminary. There’s a vacancy for an assistant teacher, and I trust that you will see the wisdom of accepting, for that way you will at least have a roof over your head. You will also, of course, be able gradually to pay back the debts, which I’m sure you now feel to be your personal responsibility.”
Leonie felt trapped, bound by invisible cords which were tightening inexorably around her with each word that Dorothea uttered. Accept the post? What option did she have but to do that? Where else could she go? And how could she otherwise meet all these specified debts?
Dorothea gave a cold little smile. “If you accept, you will be required to sign an agreement, for everything must be done correctly. You will be bound by that agreement until all debts have been satisfactorily settled. All that having been said, I would now like to hear your decision, Miss Conyngham.”
“I….”
“Yes?”
“I accept.” She had to, there was no other course.
Dorothea glanced at Nadia and then rose to her feet, turning to Miss Hart. “I trust that I may now safely leave matters in your hands. Pray do not forget the agreement.” She indicated the table, upon which lay a hastily drawn-up document. Beside it stood Miss Hart’s best silver-gilt inkwell
and a new quill.
“I will attend to everything, my lady,” replied the headmistress reassuringly. She then gave Leonie a cool nod of her head. “I will speak with you in a moment.” Then she escorted Dorothea from the room.
Nadia followed them, pausing in the doorway to look malignantly back at Leonie, her green eyes glittering with spite. She gave a low laugh; then the door closed and she was gone.
The room was suddenly very quiet. The fire shifted in the hearth, sending a shower of bright sparks fleeing up the chimney. She could hear her own heartbeats. An immeasurable sense of loss began to steal through her, but her eyes remained dry. There were no tears; they weren’t even close. She listened to Miss Hart saying farewell to her visitors, and then the headmistress’s busy steps were approaching the door again. Leonie turned to face her as she came in.
Miss Hart halted before her, her glance as chill as Dorothea’s had been. “Very well, Miss Conyngham, let us discuss your situation.” She sat down close to the fire, very deliberately leaving Leonie standing. “I will expect you to commence in Miss Mathers’ place when the new term begins. You will, naturally enough, be the most junior member of the staff, and you will be at the beck and call of your colleagues. No doubt your many years with us have provided you with a clear notion of what your duties will be.”
“Yes, Miss Hart.”
“Very well. I trust that you also realize that you must immediately vacate the room you occupy at present. In future you will use the room previously allotted to Miss Mathers. It’s on the third floor, at the front of the house. Obviously it’s hardly what you’ve been used to, but you must consider yourself fortunate not to be out on the streets.”
“Yes, Miss Hart.” Leonie gazed at the headmistress. It was like talking to a stranger. But then perhaps that was exactly what she was doing, for she was now seeing the real Emmeline Hart.
The headmistress pointed to the document. “I suggest you sign it straightaway.”
Leonie picked up the document and began to read.
Miss Hart was irritated. “You don’t need to study it,” she said sharply. “After all, you aren’t in a position to challenge its contents, are you?”
