by M C Beaton
Her odd, husky voice spoke again: “What will become of me?”
“I think I must consult Lady Rennenord,” said the earl quietly. “I know you do not like her, but have you considered it is because you have not been in the way of female company?”
No answer.
“Nonetheless,” said the earl after a pause, “I must consult her, if only because, as my intended bride, she should not be kept from anything that concerns my life. The servants, too, must be told. They are loyal to me and will not gossip.”
“They will all stare at me and…”
“I shall address them while you are not present,” replied the earl. “You may leave matters to me.”
The earl called to his groom, who was waiting discreetly at a short distance down the road, and then picked up the reins. Freddie clutched at the side of the curricle and wondered miserably what was in store for her. If Lady Rennenord had any say in her future, Freddie was sure it would be something unpleasant.
By the time the tall chimneys of Berham Court began to appear above the trees, Freddie was beginning to feel considerably more cheerful. She had decided that Lady Rennenord would be so shocked by the masquerade that she would have nothing further to do with the earl.
“When did you discover I was not a boy?” she asked shyly.
The earl slowed his team while he wondered what to say. The correct answer was that his own feelings towards Freddie when she knelt in front of him had altered him to the fact that she was a girl.
Instead he replied, “Because you are too pretty to be a young man.”
“Really!” Freddie flushed to the roots of her hair with pleasure and put a coquettish little hand up to pat her curls.
The earl glanced at her and smiled. “There are some of my mother’s clothes in the attic. I shall tell the servants to alter some of the gowns for you as a temporary measure.”
“Can’t I wear these?” asked Freddie, indicating her shabby suit.
“Don’t you want to wear pretty things?” countered the earl as the carriage swept around in front of Berham Court.
“I’m afraid,” said Freddie in a low voice. “I don’t know how to behave like a woman.”
“Oh, I think you do,” said the earl, remembering the way she had flushed with pleasure at his compliment. “Now, run up to your room and I will tell the servants of your masquerade.”
An hour later, the earl was back out on the road again, driving towards Mrs. Bellisle’s home to enlist the help of Lady Rennenord.
He was looking forward to placing the problem of Freddie before her. He could almost hear her calm, sensible voice smoothing away his difficulties.
The servants had been remarkably calm over the announcement of Freddie’s sex. The earl would have been amazed could he have seen the scene in his servants’ hall at that moment.
One of the housemaids had a country swain who had been present at the cockfight and had ridden hard to Berham Court to relate the gossip of Master Frederick’s brave stand. Hard on the heels of this had come his lordship’s summons to the great hall and consequent announcement that Master Frederick was in fact Miss Frederica Armstrong. The earl had painted a sympathetic picture of Freddie’s strange upbringing. Freddie was now the heroine of the day in the servants’ hall.
“I could tell Miss Armstrong was a real lady,” sighed Cook sentimentally. “Such kind considerate ways, she has. Always a thank you and a bit of praise. Not like some I could mention who thinks they’re going to be mistress here.”
“I think my lord is going to propose to Lady Rennenord,” said MacNab gloomily.
“Well, it’s a shame,” said Cook. “My lord really should marry Miss Frederica, that he should. She needs an older man to guide her. And if that Lady Rennenord has her say, Miss Frederica won’t be allowed to stay at Berham Court. That woman is a devil in garnet!”
Blissfully unaware that his intended bride was already highly unpopular with his staff, the earl rode on with a mounting feeling of anticipation.
He would tell Clarissa Rennenord about poor Freddie’s predicament and ask her advice. Perhaps when they were married, they could have the townhouse redecorated and give Freddie a Season in London.
A nagging little voice somewhere inside was trying to tell the earl that his beloved had not been precisely efficient when it came to recommending a tutor for Freddie, The earl had left instructions that should the captain dare to return to Berham Court, he was to be sent packing immediately. If he did not return, his trunks were to be sent to his address in London.
But Mrs. Bellisle’s home was very near. The day was cold and sunny. Soon he would see Lady Rennenord and watch her calm, elegant movements and study that tranquil face and try to guess the mysterious passions and secrets it held.
“He’s back,” said Lady Rennenord crossly, looking out the window and down the short drive to where the earl’s curricle could be seen swinging round from the road between the gateposts.
Mrs. Bellisle looked up from the magazine she was reading. “I suppose I must absent myself again.” She sighed. “Do you really think he means to propose, Clarissa?”
“Of course he does,” said Lady Rennenord. “He would have done had not his servant come bursting in with the news that that boy, Freddie, had gone to a cockfight. The way Lord Berham ran out of the house, you would think the boy was about to be hanged instead of attending a sporting event.”
“Get rid of that brat as soon as you become Lady Berham,” said Mrs. Bellisle, “or you will have no peace.”
“Oh, I intend to,” replied Lady Rennenord sweetly.
Mrs. Bellisle managed to escape from the morning room a bare minute before the earl was ushered in.
Lady Rennenord curtsied low and resumed her seat, picking up a piece of embroidery and bending her head over it. She hoped she presented a suitably domestic and wifely picture.
But the earl did not sit down. He started to pace up and down the small room. Lady Rennenord raised her fine eyes and looked at him with well-concealed exasperation. Would the man never get to the point?
At last the earl swung round and faced her. “There is something I must tell you,” he said abruptly.
“Yes, my lord?” asked Lady Rennenord while she surreptitiously edged a footstool a few inches in his direction so that it would be in a more convenient position when he fell on one knee to propose to her.
“It’s about Freddie,” said the earl. Lady Rennenord quickly lowered her eyes to her sewing again.
“He… damn… she is a girl. Colonel Armstrong was such an eccentric that he brought her up as a boy. He willed her to me, probably not knowing my father was dead and thinking he was entrusting her to the safe care of an equally old man.”
Lady Rennenord spasmodically clutched the piece of embroidery and pricked her finger. She looked down at the small bubble of blood and carefully wiped it away with a wisp of handkerchief. The redheaded minx, she thought furiously. Eccentric old grandfather, indeed! It’s the result of a well-hatched plot. The doxy has been under his roof without a chaperone. He’ll need to marry her. What does he want, my blessing? The fool!
The earl’s voice went on. “The girl has not been compromised. My servants will not gossip, and of course, I trust your discretion implicitly.” He looked at her anxiously, but her head was bent over the crumpled piece of embroidery.
“I trust Miss Freddie came to no harm at the cockpit?” she eventually asked in a thin, dry voice.
“I arrived in time,” he said, sitting down opposite her. “She was fighting a duel with a man almost twice her size, right in the middle of the cockpit table. It seems she tried to stop the main. I shudder to think what would have happened to her had I not been there. Captain Cramble has been dismissed.”
“That seems a trifle harsh,” said Lady Rennenord, still not raising her eyes. “He thought he was taking a young man.”
“It was no place for a young man, either,” said the earl severely. “It is a savage and barbarou
s sport.”
“I am sorry my help turned out to be useless,” said her ladyship, raising her eyes at last. They were calm and undisturbed, reflecting none of the irritation, jealousy, and exasperation underneath.
“Ah, no!” said the earl warmly. “You did your best. You are not to be blamed. As a matter of fact, I stand badly in need of your help and advice. What am I to do with Miss Frederica Armstrong?”
Lady Rennenord smoothed the crumpled piece of embroidery on her lap and carefully picked out the needle.
If she had replied promptly, if she had said she would do anything to help, the earl would have proposed marriage and then told her his idea of giving Freddie a Season. But that deliberate little gesture suddenly reminded him of a governess he had had when he was little, who had performed the same little deliberate movements without looking at him just before she was about to say something very unpleasant.
And so he waited patiently, trying to banish that irritating memory from his mind.
Lady Rennenord was thinking things out very carefully. He must look on her as a future wife or he would not have asked for her help. She had a sudden picture of what Freddie might look like dressed as a girl, with her flaming curls and blue eyes. Yes, Freddie must be got rid of, and quickly. At least he obviously did not think he had to marry the girl.
“There is a seminary at Lamstowe, on the coast,” said Lady Rennenord, marshaling all her resources and turning a calm, sweet gaze on the earl. She held up her hand as he would have spoken. “I know what you are about to say, Lord Berham—that Miss Armstrong is too old for a seminary. But not for this one. It deals in training young ladies of good family in manners and dress. Young ladies of all ages. Several families who have experienced difficulties with their daughters have found that two years at this seminary have been very beneficial. It is run by the Misses Hope, two maiden ladies of breeding and skill.
“The seminary is pleasantly situated on the cliffs outside of town. The climate is salubrious and bracing. I think the sooner Miss Armstrong is conveyed there, the better. Once she has been trained in the social graces, why, then she will be ready to make her debut in society, should you wish.”
“A very good suggestion,” said the earl, although there was a little crease of worry between his brows. He did not know quite what he had hoped for. Perhaps that Lady Rennenord herself would volunteer to take Freddie under her wing. Of course, he could propose marriage on the spot, and that would certainly alter the situation. On the other hand, he himself could not school Freddie. He would be free of the irksome responsibility of looking after the girl. So…
“Very well,” he said. “Perhaps if you could furnish me with the address? Good.”
“It would not be proper for you to travel to Lamstowe with Miss Armstrong,” said Lady Rennenord. “It might occasion comment. Better to send her away as soon as possible.”
“I must say, you are taking it very well.” The earl smiled. “I was afraid you might be shocked.”
“Not I.” Lady Rennenord smiled back. Furious, said her inner voice, but not shocked. “You have been the victim of a cruel trick.”
“I think it is Miss Frederica who has been the victim of a cruel trick,” said the earl.
There was a little silence. Mrs. Bellisle could be heard moving about upstairs. Lady Rennenord cleared her throat with a delicate little cough.
“Have you anything further you wish to ask me, Lord Berham?”
Now was the time to propose, yet he found he could not. Perhaps he felt guilty over the thought of Freddie’s banishment so soon to come. When the girl was packed off, he could settle down to his courtship with an easy conscience.
He shook his head, thanked her again, and made his good-byes.
Mrs. Bellisle came running into the morning room a few moments later at the sound of breaking china. Lady Rennenord was sitting over her embroidery. A Dresden figure lay smashed on the floor over by the window.
“What happened?” asked Mrs. Bellisle, ringing the bell for a servant to clear away the pieces.
“It must have fallen,” said Clarissa Rennenord, tranquilly threading a needle.
Mrs. Bellisle looked puzzled. It looked as if the figure which had been on the mantelpiece had been hurled against the opposite wall by a furious hand.
“Did he ask you?” she demanded instead.
“Not yet,” said Lady Rennenord. “But he will.”
Chapter Four
Freddie did not learn of the plans for her future until four days after the earl returned from his visit to Lady Rennenord. She barely saw the earl, since he appeared to be absent most of the time and took his meals in his study. He had decided against dressing her in women’s clothes despite the fact that the housemaids had altered several of his late mother’s dresses. “Better to keep up the masquerade,” he said, until it was time for Freddie to leave.
“Leave when, and for where?” Freddie asked the servants anxiously. But they could only shake their heads and say that a messenger had been sent off by the earl and was expected to be back within four days. That it was something to do with Miss Frederica’s future was all they knew.
The earl parried all Freddie’s anxious questions by simply saying, “Wait and see.”
But at last he had a reply by hand from the Misses Hope. They would be delighted, they wrote, to school the earl’s ward.
Attached to the letter was a handbill lauding the establishment and stating the fees, and another sheet of paper listing the clothes it would be necessary for Freddie to bring. The Misses Hope said that by fortuitous chance they had a vacancy at that very moment.
The earl put down the letter with a little sigh. He could not rid himself of a nagging feeling of guilt. He had persuaded himself that he was avoiding Freddie merely to satisfy the conventions, but he was really afraid of becoming too attached to the girl. He admired her spirit and was heartily sorry for the odd and lonely life she had led.
He had not seen Lady Rennenord since that day when she had offered her good advice, and absence was definitely making the earl’s heart grow very fond. She had left to visit friends in a neighboring county and was not expected back for another two weeks. Mrs. Bellisle had gone with her.
Lady Rennenord had in fact guessed that a separation from her was just what the earl needed to bring him up to the mark.
With another little sigh, he rang the bell and ordered Miss Frederica to be sent to him.
In a short time Freddie came bouncing in. The earl looked with disfavor at her shabby suit of morning clothes.
“It’s bad enough, your being dressed in men’s clothes,” he said severely, “but need they be quite so shabby? Your grandfather was a rich man.”
Freddie grinned. “He did not believe in wasting money on clothes,” she said. “He believed one should wear one’s clothes until they fell to bits. Oh, my lord, I am so glad you are not angry with me anymore!”
“I never was angry with you,” said the earl. “Sit down, Frederica. We must discuss your future. You cannot stay here with me. It is not conventional.”
“Perhaps you have some female relative who might chaperone me,” said Freddie eagerly. “I have been thinking about it quite a lot and…”
The earl shook his head. He picked up the letter from the seminary. In a clear, precise voice, he outlined Freddie’s future, keeping his eyes fixed on the letter, sensing her dismay. At last he looked up. Freddie looked back at him, her face completely devoid of expression.
Freddie wanted to shout and scream and rave. She wanted to throw herself on her knees and beg him not to send her away. But since he had already agreed to this arrangement—Freddie was in no doubt that it was Lady Rennenord’s idea—he obviously did not want her around. If he had, he would have made arrangements to find a chaperone for her. A hard lump rose up in Freddie’s throat, but she kept her face well schooled.
“When have I to leave?” she asked, her voice sounding strange in her own ears.
“In a few days
,” he said. “The sooner the better.” Freddie flinched, but he did not notice, for he had bent his head over the letter again.
“You will feel strange at first, but you will have female friends for the first time in your life. You will learn how to act like a lady. When you have finished your schooling, it will be time to consider your London debut. I will likely be married by then, and my wife will be able to help you make your come-out.”
“I do not think I ever want to get married,” said Freddie, watching the earl’s bent head, the strong lines of his face, his firm mouth.
“It’s natural you should feel that way at the moment,” he said. “You have been brought up to think all men lustful beasts. It will take you some time to adjust.”
“I don’t think all men so,” Freddie replied falteringly.
“No? Well, I hope you don’t include me in that category.”
“Oh, no!”
“Thank you. You are going to be very busy in the next few days being fitted for a wardrobe. Fortunately, the seminary states they wish you to wear plain and simple gowns.
“I am afraid my female staff will need to fashion them for you. It would occasion too much comment were they made anywhere else. Can you sew?”
Freddie shook her head.
She stared at him solemnly, and for a moment he thought he saw loneliness and fear in her eyes. But the next minute she was saying cheerfully, “Shall I see much of you before I leave?”
“I have much to attend to about the estates,” said the earl. “And our situation is delicate. I do not wish to entertain anyone here until you have left.”
He stood up, indicating that the interview was at an end.
“Where is this seminary?” asked Freddie.
“At Lamstowe. On the coast. On the cliffs.”
Freddie brightened. “I have never seen the sea, my lord. And how long will I be gone?”
“Two years is suggested.”
“Two years!”
“It will pass very quickly. Of course, you may return on holidays and things like that,” he added.
