by M C Beaton
“My home,” grated Mary, “is well-run and isn’t in any danger of falling down with dry rot and decay. This place stinks, my lord. It stinks of bad cess and all sorts of nasty, nasty things.”
“Your mind is a cesspool,” said her husband in a cold, level voice. “You see life accordingly. I have never been so insulted in all my life…”
“Oh, Hubert,” sighed Mary, “I am not insulting you. I am insulting this run-down hovel.”
“Then don’t live in it, madam,” he said, his eyes hard and glittering in his flushed face. “I am going out riding and when I return, I expect you to have removed your presence from my home.”
He stalked from the room and Mary ran furiously after him. “You can’t expect me to travel all the way back to London when I have just arrived,” she shouted to his retreating back.
“Go to London—go to hell for all I care,” said Lord Hubert, descending the staircase. “Just get your unwanted presence out of my home!”
“Oh, Gawd,” said Biggs, retreating hurriedly to the kitchen. “They’re at it again.”
He fortified himself with a bumper of brandy in the pantry and then made his way up the stairs, scratched on the door of his mistress’s bedroom and walked in. Mary was sitting, dry-eyed in a chair by the window. She turned hard eyes on the butler.
“Ah, Biggs. I shall shortly be leaving for London. Please have the travelling carriage brought round and send Juneaux to me.”
Biggs rubbed his hands distractedly through his powdered hair. “My lady,” he began awkwardly. “It’s not my place to say so but it’s a bit sudden like and them ’orses—horses—is tired.”
“My lord commands it, Biggs,” said Mary with a dreary smile. “I offended his delicate sensibilities by pointing out that his ancestral home is a slum.”
“And so it is,” said Biggs eagerly. “I am talking out of hand, my lady, but think what that place in St. James’s looked like before you changed it. There’s a lovely little saloon on the ground floor, not half bad, and the fire draws sweet. If you was to let me lead you there, my lady, and have a cup of tea, you might see things different.”
“Oh, very well,” sighed Mary, anxious to postpone the long journey back to London.
The saloon was hardly lovely, but it was warm and cheerful and someone had placed a large copper bowl of beech leaves and chrysanthemums, a flower Mary had not seen before. The walls were covered in faded panels of yellow silk and the furniture was comfortable, if shabby.
Biggs set the tea table beside her and then went over to an old settle in the corner. He lifted up the lid and came back bearing a roll of gold brocade.
“See here, my lady. “This here would look ever so fine as curtains. There’s so much we could do.”
He rolled out the cloth and held it up to his bosom, staring at her anxiously. The fold of rich gold cloth fell around his feet and Mary giggled, despite her misery. “You look very well, Biggs,” she laughed. “Just like the Marquise Elvira.”
Biggs’s small eyes twinkled and then he cocked his head on one side. “Master’s home,” he said. Mary stiffened, her face going hard.
“Compringmise,” whispered Biggs urgently. “That’s what my Ma who had book-learning used to say. It don’t hurt to tell a bit of a lie. Tell ’is nibs you like the dump.”
Mary hesitated, torn between taking Biggs’s advice and giving him a stern set-down for his over-familiarity.
The door opened and her husband walked in, drawing off his gloves. Mary rushed into his arms crying, “I am so sorry, Hubert. I was tired, that is all. I think it is my condition…”
“You mean…” Hubert’s face changed from stern anger to radiant pleasure like lightning. “Biggs you may leave us—although what you are doing parading round in cloth of gold looking like… Hey, I think I know who you look like. You look exactly like that Marqu?…”
“Kiss me, Hubert,” said Mary.
Biggs tactfully retreated, closing the door behind him and trailing the swathes of gold cloth to the kitchen.
“My lord and my lady are reconciled,” he said dreamily to the cook, MacGregor.
MacGregor sniffed and rattled the pots and pans violently.
“It’ll not last a day,” he said gloomily.
But it did!
And for much, much longer than that….
