Valerian, who felt he had already borne more than he should, and knew he was most probably going to have to bear a great deal more when he presently confronted Allegra, looked down at Agnes with minutely narrowed eyes.
“Are you suggesting I have foisted an impostor on your brother? I hesitate to point this out, but if you were a man, madam, I should be obliged to meet you on a field of honor for such an insult.”
Agnes was quick to deny what she had so clearly implied, adding, “All the girl spouts is popish gibberish, save for your name, and might I say that I consider it very strange indeed that you have gifted her with the casual use of your Christian title. And, oh yes—did you know the chit wears no stays? To my way of thinking, that’s just another indication of her sadly uncivilized nature.”
Valerian passed over this outburst, not feeling quite up to a discussion of women’s undergarments at the moment, and inclined his head toward the door. “I believe you said Signorina Crispino was asking for me? I presume there is a maidservant inside, to act as chaperon?”
Agnes rolled her watery eyes, giving up the fight, if only for the moment. “Betty is with her, yes. I will await you downstairs in the drawing room. Please tell me if the girl wishes us to send for a doctor.” She brightened momentarily. “Perhaps she needs to be bled. She does have a very high color, doesn’t she?”
His hand already raised to knock on the door, Valerian shot Agnes an amused look that implied that he, a functioning member of the male species, found Allegra’s “high color” to be more in the way of an attraction than a telltale sign of ill health. “I’ll be sure to ask your niece if she wishes her dearest aunt to call for the leeches, madam. Now,” he added as the maid opened the door, “if you’ll excuse me, I believe I have kept the signorina waiting long enough.”
Entering the bedchamber, Valerian motioned for the maid to return to her seat in the far corner of the darkened room and approached the side of the high tester bed. “You rang, signorina? I am entirely at your command, not that you would have it any other way. Perhaps you would like me to plump your pillows? Or maybe I might toddle down to the kitchens and get you a bite to eat, for you must be famished after your performance.”
Allegra peered across the room to see Betty’s head already nodding as if the maid was almost asleep; then she smiled brightly up at Fitzhugh. “I was wonderful, wasn’t I, Valerian? I have always been very good at stage-acting, although I much prefer to be singing. My goodness—are they always like that? My new family, you understand. They buzz so angrily, like bees all after the same flower.”
“So the ‘flower’ in question decided a timely ‘wilt’ was in order, is that it? I’ll say one thing for you, Allegra. You do know how to break up a conversation.”
Allegra dismissed his words with a small wave of her hand. “Someone had to do something before they all came to blows—and it certainly didn’t appear as if you were going to take control any time soon. Did you hear my nonno, Valerian? He still intends to make me his heir, even though he has not yet died as promised. Tell me, is a hundred thousand pounds a great deal of money? It is not so much in lire, although it is very generous, but my cousin Gideon seemed quite impressed with the figure.”
“Let me put it this way, my dear. For a hundred thousand pounds I might even be induced to offer for your hand—if I didn’t already know you better, that is,” Valerian told her, pulling up a chair so that he could rest his weary body. “But that’s enough idle chatter. I would like an explanation of your almost totally unaccented speech, young lady. Your English seems to have improved a hundredfold since our journey began in Naples.”
Allegra pushed herself up against the backboard of the bed, her smile wide and unaffected. “Then you have noticed! How wonderful, for I have been working ever so hard to rid myself of any lingering accent. Madre had taught me very well, and it is only since her death that my English became lazy.”
That said, she changed the subject. “Did you know, Valerian, that dearest Signorina Shackleford was returning home to London after fifteen years as governess to the children of one of Napoleon’s many cousins? No, of course you didn’t. Men never ask important questions like that, do they? All they want in a chaperon is a respectable-looking female who eats little and keeps her mouth shut.”
“I would dearly love to learn just where and how you formed that opinion, Allegra,” Valerian remarked, “but I will forgo the urge for the moment in order to learn more of your arrangement with Miss Shackleford. Max found her for us, as I recall, the same day he procured your passport. I should have known she wasn’t just someone he chanced upon in the street. Please, go on.”
Allegra pulled a face at him, but answered anyway. “Signorina Shackleford is a particular friend of Uncail Max’s. She had been trapped in Napoli thanks to the war, you understand, and then could not bring herself to leave until the last little Bonaparte was raised. She is a very strict taskmaster, Signorina Shackleford is, but as I was very determined, and Madre’s lessons came back to me once I applied my mind to the exercise, she was kind enough in the end to kiss me good-bye and tell me I had developed into one of her most apt pupils. Isn’t that nice? Valerian—do you think you could send down to the kitchens for some food? Fainting seems to make me extremely hungry.”
“Breathing seems to make you extremely hungry,” Valerian complained absently, his mind still struggling with the information Allegra had already supplied. “Tell me, how did you apply yourself so assiduously to your studies while suffering from such extreme seasickness? Miss Shackleford told me you could barely lift your head from your pillow and were not up to entertaining visitors in your stateroom.”
Allegra’s expressive hands came into play once more as she pushed his words aside. “Oh, that. It was only a tiny fib, actually, for I really do not much like to sail, but I could think of no reason to stay out of your way for the length of the trip. You sometimes get a very strange look in your eyes, Valerian, as if you would find the world a much more pleasant place without me. I decided I would not much care for being tossed overboard if I inadvertently did something to upset you.
“But in the evenings, after the sun was well down, Signorina Shackleford and I took the air outside our cabin, for I should never have been able to spend the entire trip locked within four walls, even if the food was plentiful, though not especially tasty. Besides, I wished to surprise you with my progress, as a gift for being so nice as to rescue me from those terrible Timoteos, and for introducing me to dearest Tony and Candie and Murphy and Uncail Max—and most especially for holding me so close while I bad my dearest Italy good-bye.
“Oh, dear. You’ve got that strange look in your eyes again, Valerian. Are you angry with me yet again? I should think you’d be pleased. I’ve improved my English, I’ve become a much better sailor, and I did not pester you with my presence aboard ship. Honestly, I begin to believe I shall never understand you. But that is of no matter now. Tell me—what do you think of my madre’s relatives. I really do value your opinion—above everything!”
“Oh, you do, do you? I see Miss Shackleford has also taught you it is always good to flatter a man if you wish him to be cooperative.” Valerian leaned back in the chair, crossing one long leg over the other before giving her his answer. “Very well, I shall tell you what I think of the inhabitants of this little nest of toothless vipers.”
He took a deep breath and began. “Gideon is a dedicated but woefully inept gamester who alternately loathes his mother and sponges from her. He would also sell her to any passing tinker if he could get a good price. To put it bluntly—if I were ever to be involved in a fight, I should not long for Gideon Kittredge to guard my back.
“Your aunt Agnes is an overweening, meddlesome blockhead who will fawn over you if necessary to keep her position in this household, but who privately curses your mother for not strangling you at birth. She is totally obsessed with her son, so that I should expect she’ll be throwing him at your head before the day is out in or
der to gain back her longed-for inheritance through your marriage.
“Isobel is a painfully plain, spiteful child—not entirely without cause—who believes herself a great beauty. Whatever you do, Allegra, don’t let her have the dressing of you.
“Lastly,” he said, marveling at the way Allegra’s eyes seemed to grow wider with his every word, “we come to your grandfather. Now here is an old man trying to use his granddaughter—please don’t think he loves you, pet, for he loves only his cherry ripe, and perhaps the Prince Regent—to buy his way into Heaven. Of the lot of them, I think I like Duggy the least, for the rest of them are fairly up front with their vices. Now, tell me your impressions.”
Allegra’s lower lip jutted out as she prepared her answer. “I think,” she said at last, sighing, “that Cugino Gideon is a very pretty boy, much like Bernardo, but with all the vices the silly shoemaker lacks. Zia Agnes I do not like at all, and not just because she calls me Allegro, as if I were a musical direction and not a person. Cugina Isobel is a sad little underfed creature, looking much like a bad morning while her brother resembles a good night. Did you take notice, Valerian—Cugina Isobel’s teeth are so jumbled that it makes me think she did not grow them, but must have stood across the room and had someone toss them at her, so that she had to quickly catch them with her mouth as best she could.”
Valerian suppressed a chuckle as Allegra opened her mouth and moved her head from side to side, as imitating Isobel’s teeth-catching technique. “And your grandfather?”
Allegra’s antics came to an abrupt stop. “He is my madre’s father, and he broke her heart. He did not even have the courtesy to write back to my papà when he sent him word that she had died. I should hate him—I always have hated him.” She gave a wholly Italian shrug, shaking her head. “But now—”
“But now?”
“I think he is sincere in wishing to make amends for his shabby treatment of my madre. He plans to use me to make his sister and her children uncomfortable, I am not so silly as to not understand that, but I saw something else in his eyes—just for a moment, you understand—when I performed my little faint. He was very worried. Yes, even if you cannot like him, Valerian, I think I should like to watch my nonno for a while longer before I pass the judgment.”
Valerian stared at her for a long moment, his estimation of her intelligence rising another notch. “And is that why you played the uncomprehending ignoramus downstairs earlier? So that you could learn your relatives’ true opinions and motives?”
“Chi non fa, non falla, Valerian,” she answered, smiling. “He who does nothing makes no mistakes. Uncail Max told me to first see what he called the lay of the land before I showed myself to them.”
“Uncail Max?” Valerian remarked, realizing that he was feeling slightly abused by the thought that Allegra, whom he, at least intellectually, wished to move out of his life, had sought advice from someone other than himself. “My, that little Irishman does get around, doesn’t he? What else did he tell you?”
“He also reminded me of another Italian warning. Non Cercate i peli nell’uovo. I should not go looking for hairs inside an egg. In other words—”
“In other words,” Valerian interrupted, rising, “you should not go looking for trouble. Hence the propitious swoon. All right, Allegra, I believe I understand everything now, an admittance that frightens me more than you know. I think enough time has passed for you to have recovered your senses. Would you like to rejoin the family? It is, after all, nearing the dinner hour.”
At his last words Allegra sat forward quickly and swung her feet over the side of the bed, holding out a hand so that Valerian could help her descend from the high mattress to the floor. “I can only hope we will be having some of this famous roast beef Signorina Shackleford has told me about. It sounds delicious, although she says garlic is not a part of the dish. I can’t imagine such uninspired cooking, but Signorina Shackleford says your English puddings are very nice. My madre never learned how to cook as a girl, so I have never eaten this bland-English before. You will stay to dinner, won’t you, Valerian? I am ashamed to admit it, but my relatives frighten me, and I should be glad of your company for a while longer.”
At the touch of her small hand, Valerian’s best intentions took to their heels yet again and he found himself agreeing to her proposal. “But do not expect me to become your permanent champion, Allegra,” he warned in self-defense. “I have been away from my estate for over two years, and must get on about my business as soon as possible.”
Allegra gave a dismissive toss of her head. “If you have left it this long, Valerian, I should think one of two things has happened. Either your estate has been raped by your manager and fallen into rack and ruin, or it has prospered in your absence, which would mean you are not needed there at all. No matter which it is, I don’t see that one little dinner can make much difference.”
Opening the door to the hallway, Valerian acknowledged her maddeningly logical comment with a slight nod of his head, adding, “Polite Englishwomen—polite women everywhere—do not employ the use of the word ‘rape.’ Although I know what you meant, some words, Allegra, do suffer in translation. Kindly remember that in future, please.”
“I will remember, Valerian,” she said meekly, although her sapphire eyes twinkled.
He pulled her unresisting arm through his and they began the descent to the first floor of the town house. “Now quickly, Allegra, before we rejoin the family—to what great miracle do we credit our sudden discovery of your mastery of the English language?”
“AND SO, DEAREST NONNO, you see it was all very silly of me,” Allegra said from her perch on the footstool at Baron Dugdale’s feet, “but my extreme excitement at finally meeting my beloved mother’s family caused all of my carefully learned English to totally desert me. Pouf! Why, if I hadn’t fainted, I don’t know what would have happened.”
“I can only suppose, cousin, that you would have heard my dear, distraught mother call you vile names a dozen times rather than the mere half dozen you did hear,” Gideon put in smoothly from his position across the room, leaning negligently against the marble mantelpiece.
“Gideon, you’re such a cold, heartless wretch,” Isobel inserted from her seat on the settee. “Really, Mama, I don’t know why you can’t see straight through him.”
“All I see,” Agnes returned forcefully, staring directly at the back of Allegra’s head, “is that this young woman, this Allegro, has descended on our peaceful home, and within the space of a single afternoon all the rest of its inhabitants are at each other’s throats, saying vile, hurtful things to each other, even threatening each other with the loss of all the things in life that mean the most to them.”
“Allegra—with an A at each end,” Allegra correctly sweetly, turning to face her aunt. “Forgive me for bringing it to your attention, Zia Agnes, but I know you shouldn’t like to address me incorrectly.”
“‘Zia Agnes’ don’t want to address you at all,” Gideon put in from his new position behind the settee. He had the most unnerving habit of moving about without making a sound, almost, Allegra thought, like a snake sliding through deep grass. “You’ve given her—indeed, all of us—quite a turn, you know. We always thought we was Uncle’s heirs.”
“There must be half a score of sharpers holding your vowels that will be likewise displeased to hear of Allegra’s existence, once the word gets out,” Lord Dugdale put in, chuckling into his cravat. “For your sake, nevvie, and the sake of your still intact knees, I hope you haven’t been playing too deep on your expectations.”
“Denny, please!” Agnes pleaded, her hands flying to her scrawny breast.
Lord Dugdale leaned down to address his granddaughter. “The boy was counting heavily on me sticking my spoon in the wall, you know, and then gleefully gambling away my life’s savings within a fortnight. Queered him good, I did, by living, and I shouldn’t be surprised to wake up dead one morning just so’s he can make good on his markers.”
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He looked up at Valerian. “You’ll be my witness, boy. If I come to an untimely end before I can have my will changed over to benefit this sweet girl here, can I count on you to take Gideon’s name to the nearest magistrate?”
Agnes gasped and quickly began fanning herself with a small lace handkerchief. “I don’t think I can bear much more of this. Truly I don’t.”
Allegra reached out to place a hand on the Baron’s knee. “There is no need to trouble Valerian, Nonno,” she said, her voice deceptively gentle. “If you should die before your time, I would make the vendetta and go directly to Cugino Gideon myself and slice out his ungrateful heart with a kitchen knife. We Italians are a bloodthirsty lot when it comes to family, you know.”
Agnes gave a single, ladylike shriek. “Did you hear that! We shan’t any of us be safe in our beds! Denny, you must do something at once—or else I shall be forced to quit this roof before nightfall.”
The Baron looked askance at his sister, who was clinging to her rigidly resisting daughter as if to protect her from the heathen in the midst. “If only I could believe that, Agnes, I should rise from this chair this very moment and do a lively jig. But you are as firmly entrenched here as this damnable gout is in my big toe. Now if the lot of you would please be quiet, I wish to speak further with my granddaughter.”
“Speak with your granddaughter, then, you heartless creature,” Agnes retorted, struggling to rise, “but don’t expect me to sit here and listen!”
“Mama, reconsider, please,” Isobel begged, tugging at her mother’s shawl as the older woman made to rise. “You cannot be so rude to our new-found cousin”—she looked up at Valerian, her heart in her eyes—“or to our guest.”
“Oh, Mama, do sit down,” Gideon ordered in disgusted tones. “You know you wouldn’t miss a word of what Uncle Denny has to say—no matter how much he insults you.”
The chaotic Miss Crispino Page 6
