by Sandra Heath
Chapter 23
Miss Hart was waiting in the vestibule when Guy arrived, accompanied by both Imogen and Nadia. “Good news, Sir Guy!” she cried, hurrying forward, the blue ribbons on her biggin trembling. “The doctor has examined Miss de Lacey and it seems that she was merely concussed. No bones were broken and he is sure there are no internal injuries. He says she must rest in bed for a few days, and then she will be able to resume her lessons.”
He gave a quick sigh of relief. “How is she now?”
“A little shaken, but apart from that she is as well as can be expected.”
“Your footman said that she had been knocked down by a hackney coach. Can you tell me exactly what happened?”
Her eyes slid momentarily toward Imogen and Nadia, whom she wished to placate after having felt obliged to refuse their demands concerning Leonie. “It…it was most unfortunate, Sir Guy,” she said, “for I fear that much of the blame must be laid at Miss Conyngham’s feet.” She saw the smile touching Imogen’s lips, and felt encouraged to proceed. “She had charge of Miss de Lacey, as you requested, but on the way back from church she neglected her duties by stopping to converse with an acquaintance and leaving your niece to walk on unattended.”
At the top of the staircase, unseen by anyone in the vestibule, Katy listened indignantly to the headmistress’s lies. The maid had seen the accident from a window, and she knew the truth of what had happened.
Guy held Miss Hart’s gaze. “Yes. Go on.”
“Well, that is more or less it, for Miss de Lacey wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing and she stepped very unwisely from the pavement directly into the path of the hackney coach. I had her brought inside and the doctor was sent for immediately. I also instructed Joseph to convey the news to you. I trust that I have more than adequately attended to my responsibilities.”
He didn’t reply for a moment. “So,” he said then, “you are telling me that you regard Miss Conyngham as being at fault, and that but for her failure to carry out her duties, the accident would probably not have happened. Is that what you are saying?”
She hesitated, but knew that she had already gone too far to withdraw now. Besides, it would be very difficult to disprove her word, for it was hardly likely that he would question anyone, and it was only to be expected that Leonie herself would deny culpability. She met his gaze as squarely as she could. “Yes, Sir Guy. I’m afraid that I can take no other view.”
“I see.”
His penetrating eyes seemed to see right into her soul, and in some consternation she quickly lowered her eyes.
Then he turned away, glancing up the staircase just in time to see Katy draw hastily back out of sight. “Miss Hart, may I see my niece now?”
The headmistress stared at him, taken completely by surprise, for she had fully expected him to demand Leonie’s immediate dismissal. Miss Hart didn’t quite know what to make of it, for she had done her level best for both Imogen and Nadia by trying to provoke Guy into taking matters into his own hands. The headmistress knew that had she taken the dismissal upon herself, even for Imogen and Nadia, then Dorothea would have been furious and might even have withdrawn her patronage. But Guy would apparently have had justice on his side, for his niece had been injured and he had been told that it was due to Leonie’s neglect; Dorothea would graciously accede to his wishes and that would be the end of it; everyone would have been satisfied. Instead, he hadn’t demanded anything of the sort; he had apparently decided to leave the matter and now wished only to see his niece!
Imogen and Nadia, their hopes raised by the headmistress’s clever ploy, were also bitterly disappointed, Imogen in particular, for she saw his reaction as further evidence that she had every reason in the world to fear Leonie. Her immediate impulse was to pursue the matter of Leonie’s responsibility herself, but there was something in his manner which kept her silent. She must be circumspect; there would be another opportunity, and when it came, she would seize it and put it to full use. She would destroy Leonie Conyngham.
Guy was still waiting for Miss Hart’s reply. “Madam, I asked if I could now see my niece.”
She almost jumped. “Oh, forgive me, Sir Guy. Yes, of course. Joseph, please conduct Sir Guy to Miss de Lacey.” She turned almost gladly to the footman, who had at that moment returned.
Imogen went with Guy, but Nadia suddenly and unexpectedly declined to accompany them, a fact which drew a curious glance from Imogen, who guessed that she had an ulterior motive. Nadia watched them go up the stairs and then turned to Miss Hart, an eyebrow raised expectantly.
The headmistress immediately took the hint. “Miss Benckendorff, may I offer you some tea? Oh, I beg your pardon, I mean coffee. Black, is it not?” She turned to beckon Katy, who was now coming down the stairs.
“Yes, black,” agreed Nadia. “Without cream,” she added stonily.
Miss Hart gave her a weak smile. “Yes, of course. Without cream.” She cleared her throat. “Shall we adjourn to the visitors’ room? It’s so much more comfortable and private there.”
* * *
Imogen was still wondering what Nadia was up to when she and Guy were shown into Stella’s room. Stella was lying asleep in the huge bed, her dark hair spilling over the pillow, her little face pale and wan, but it wasn’t at the child that Imogen’s glance was inexorably drawn, it was at Leonie, who was seated in a chair next to the bed. As Leonie rose immediately to her feet, Imogen’s anxious glance moved swiftly toward Guy, to gauge his reaction, and to her immeasurable relief, he seemed hardly to notice Leonie; indeed he looked straight through her. For Imogen it was a moment of almost unbelievable comfort, allaying so many recent fears and dispelling the unease so swiftly that it might never have been. She was sure of him again, she felt secure, but as she watched Leonie hurrying out, the need for revenge was still there. Leonie had caused her a great deal of anxiety, and that could be neither forgiven nor forgotten.
Guy went swiftly to the bed, taking Stella’s hands. She stirred immediately, her eyes fluttering open. “Uncle Guy?”
“How are you, sweetheart?”
The use of such an affectionate term brought tears of gladness to the child’s eyes, and she struggled up to hug him. “Oh, Uncle Guy! I’m so happy you’ve come, and I’m sorry to have upset you so—”
“It’s all right,” he said gently, holding her close. “It’s all forgotten now.”
Imogen watched in silent anger, her face devoid of expression, and the only outward sign of her fury was the tightening of her hands on her reticule. Dear God, how she loathed the child….
Suddenly Stella realized that she was there, and hesitantly drew away from Guy, her smile faltering. “G-good morning.”
Imogen’s lips curved into a tight smile. “Good morning, Stella. I trust you are not feeling too indisposed?”
“No. Just a little bruised.” Stella’s reply was halting. She could feel the other’s hatred.
“Perhaps in future,” went on Imogen, “you will pay more attention when you are out.”
Guy looked quickly at her, a warning glint flashing in his eyes.
She didn’t notice his reaction; she was too determined to put Stella in her rightful place, “I also trust that you will consider others and not continually give cause for anxiety and concern.”
“Imogen—” began Guy.
“No, Guy, this has to be said,” she replied, forgetting her previous wise decision to be circumspect at all times. “I saw how distressed you were when first you heard about the accident—you feared for Stella’s very life! Now we discover that the accident was in part caused by Stella’s own empty-headedness. It isn’t good enough, and I can see that even if you can’t. Which brings me to the matter of Leonie Conyngham’s gross negligence. I think you are very ill-advised indeed not to demand her immediate dismissal.”
“Imogen, I do not wish to discuss any of this, least of all now,” he said angrily.
Stella was staring at her. “Leonie’s negligenc
e? What do you mean?”
“Come now, you know perfectly well,” said Imogen coldly. “She left you to walk along on your own while she gossiped with an acquaintance.”
“But that isn’t true!” cried Stella. “It just isn’t true!”
“I might have known you’d leap to her defense.”
“I’m not telling lies, it really isn’t true,” protested Stella, turning to Guy. “Please believe me, it wasn’t Leoni’s fault, it was all mine, I wasn’t paying attention!”
Imogen was relentless. “Are you telling us that Miss Hart is a liar?” she demanded.
Stella’s glance fled back to her. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, if she said those things about Leonie, then she’s telling lies.”
“I don’t think so,” replied Imogen icily.
There were tears in Stella’s eyes now, and her lips were trembling. “She is!” she cried. “She’s telling lies about Leonie!” She turned away then, flinging herself against her pillow and bursting into tears.
Guy was furious with Imogen, his face pale and his voice as icy as hers had been. “I think you’ve said enough, don’t you? Perhaps it would be better if you withdrew for a while.”
She stared at him, a disbelieving fury bubbling up inside her. Without another word, she turned on her heel and left.
There was no sign of Nadia when she reached the vestibule, which angered her all the more, since she was determined to teach Guy a lesson by driving off in a dudgeon and leaving him to walk back to Berkeley Street. How dared he treat her like that! How dared he side with that odious, odious brat! She trembled with a fury so great that she forgot how uncertain and anxious she had been about him only minutes before.
At last she heard the visitor’s room open, and Nadia emerged. “Ah, there you are,” she said briskly, but then something about the other’s face made her pause. “Is something wrong?”
Nadia came slowly toward her. “I suppose you could say that.”
“Well?”
“You know that Rupert told me that he was attending morning service at St. George’s with his mother and Miss St. Julienne? Well, it was a lie. Miss Hart has just said in passing that he was at the Grosvenor Chapel this morning and that he went outside with Leonie Conyngham.” Nadia’s green eyes were thoughtful. “He’s pursuing her, Imogen. I now know it for certain.”
“Are you ready to leave?” asked Leonie abruptly.
Nadia looked at her in surprise. “Leave? But what of Guy?”
“I’m no mood to wait for him.”
Nadia raised an eyebrow, but wisely left the subject of Guy. “I’ll stay here a little longer. There’s something I wish to do.”
Imogen stared at her. “Do? What?”
“Gain Stella’s confidence.” Nadia smiled.
At that moment there was a knock at the front door, and Joseph appeared to attend to it. A delivery boy stood there, a very large basket of red roses in his arms. “Is this the residence of Miss Conyngham?” he inquired.
“It is.”
“These are for her.” The boy thrust the basket into Joseph’s arms, waited for a small tip, and then hurried away.
Joseph carried the basket carefully to the table, watched all the while by Imogen and Nadia. The moment he had gone to find Leonie, they hurried to inspect the card that lay among the flowers.
Nadia picked it up. “ ‘To Leonie,’ ” she read out, “ ‘whose loveliness eclipses these poor blooms, and whose face haunts my every dream, R.’ ” Her face went very pale. “The writing is Rupert’s,” she said quietly, dropping the card back among the roses.
Imogen nodded. “So he isn’t always reticent, is he?” she remarked dryly.
Nadia glanced coldly at her and then turned away.
Imogen smiled a little. “Well, I’m leaving now, and if you wish to change your mind and come with me…?”
“No. I’ll stay.”
Chapter 24
Meanwhile, Guy had at last managed to calm Stella down, and she was no longer crying, but from time to time she sniffed a little, and her lips trembled.
He sat on the bed beside her once more. “That’s better,” he said gently. “You mustn’t tire yourself out anymore. You’ve had quite a morning of it so far.”
“Miss Hart is fibbing, Uncle Guy, you must believe me.”
“I do.”
She stared. “You do?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” She toyed with the coverlet. “If you knew she was fibbing, why didn’t you say so? Why don’t you take me away from here, and take Leonie away too?”
He gave a quick laugh. “Not so fast, young lady. It isn’t as easy as that. I have my reasons for saying nothing, and they’re good reasons, believe me.”
She searched his face for a moment. “It’s because of Leonie, isn’t it? Because she needs to stay here?”
“Yes.”
The reply satisfied her, but something else still did not. “But, Uncle Guy, if you and I can tell that Miss Hart isn’t being honest about it, why can’t Imogen see it too?”
“Perhaps she still feels a certain loyalty to Miss Hart. After all, she was a pupil here for some time. Now, then, can we talk about something else?”
“All right, but, Uncle Guy….” She hesitated. “I know I said a lot of things about Imogen at Grillion’s—”
“From the tone of your voice I’d say you were about to express no regret whatsoever, and that being the case, I’d prefer it if you left it unsaid.”
He’d anticipated her perfectly and she didn’t like it very much. She looked away, her lips set a little rebelliously. “I do wish you didn’t love her,” she. muttered.
“Stella—” he began warningly.
“All right,” she said quickly, “I won’t say anything else about her. Let’s talk about the frost fair instead. Have you seen it yet?”
He relaxed a little, for the frost fair didn’t seem a particularly difficult topic. “No, I haven’t, but I understand it’s set to be quite an attraction.”
She glanced at the window. It was snowing heavily outside still. “Would you take me to see it? Oh, please say you will.”
“No.”
“Oh, but—”
“No! I told you the other night why I wouldn’t, and nothing’s changed since then.”
Resentment bubbled up inside her then. Yes, something had changed since then; she’d spoken rudely about Imogen on two separate occasions. He’d have taken her to the fair if it hadn’t been for that! She was being punished again because of Imogen! “Why won’t you take me?” she demanded.
“I’ve already explained. Such a place isn’t at all proper, and I will riot countenance taking you.”
“That isn’t your real reason, is it!” she cried, tears leaping into her eyes again. “It’s because of Imogen!”
“Don’t be silly.”
“I’m not being silly! You’re angry with me because of her, and so you’re punishing me!”
He stared at her. “I don’t think you mean that,” he said quietly.
“I do! I do!” she cried, her voice rising. “You’d do anything to keep her happy. You don’t care about me at all!”
Slowly he got up. “Perhaps I’d better go,” he said. “You’re overwrought and it will do no good for me to remain here while you’re in this state.”
Stella turned away when he had gone, hiding her face in her pillow again, sobbing as if her heart was breaking.
Guy went slowly downstairs, halting as he saw Nadia waiting there alone. “Miss Benckendorff? Where’s Imogen?”
She smiled a little awkwardly. “She…er, left a short while ago.”
He sighed inwardly.
“Sir Guy, I was wondering if it would be permissible for me to sit with Stella for a while?”
He looked at her in surprise, for it was very strange that she of all people should make such an apparently kind, concerned offer. “Why, yes, I’m sure it would,” he replied. “Although at the moment I think she’s a l
ittle overwrought.”
“But that is understandable, is it not? I will go to her—maybe I can help.” Nadia smiled again, and walked past him to go up the staircase.
He watched her for a moment and then noticed the basket of roses, which still stood waiting on the table. He glanced at the card, and at that moment he heard Leonie’s light steps approaching from the school wing. He turned as she entered the vestibule. “Good morning, Miss Conyngham,” he said, and his voice echoed a little.
She started. “Oh! G-good morning, Sir Guy.” She felt very much at a disadvantage. When he had ignored her earlier, she had been immeasurably hurt, believing it was because of the argument at Grillion’s. That had been bad enough, but now Katy had told her what Miss Hart had said to him when he had arrived, which made the snub he had delivered appear in a very different light—it meant that he believed the headmistress.
He smiled a little, gesturing toward the roses. “You appear to have an ardent admirer.”
The smile confused her. “Yes, I’m afraid that I do.”
“Afraid?”
“I don’t like the gentleman concerned and I don’t intend to keep his flowers.”
“I’m relieved to hear you say that, for he may be a duke, but he’s neither trustworthy nor honorable.” He smiled again. “Don’t return the flowers, it would be a shame to waste them. No doubt there is the usual crop of winter ailments among the young ladies here, and I’m sure their sickrooms would be much brightened by such magnificent blooms.”
She couldn’t help smiling, although his apparent friendliness now still puzzled her. “That is an excellent idea, Sir Guy.”
“Miss Conyngham, may I have a word with you in private?”
Her heart sank. “Of course. Please come through to the visitors’ room, I believe it’s unoccupied now.” She was shaking a little as she conducted him to the empty room, where she turned to face him. “Sir Guy, if this is about the accident, I wish to say that I didn’t neglect my duties.”
“You think I don’t realize that?”
She stared at him. “But—”
