“What is amiss? What is amiss?”
“Ottilia, what has happened?”
“Who is crying? Oh!”
“Gracious me, who in the world is this?”
“Be quiet, both of you!” cried the dowager, topping them. “We have enough on our hands as it is!” She rose from her chair and towered over Ottilia. “If you do not give this creature a salutary slap, Ottilia, I shall do so myself!”
Ottilia did not even look up, intent upon urging the sufferer to sip from the glass in her hand. “Hush, ma’am, she is beginning to recover. Come now, Mrs Delabole, you are looking better already. A little more, if you please. Very good. There now, lie back and rest for a moment.”
The matron sank into the sofa, letting her head fall back against the cushions and moaning softly. To Ottilia’s relief, Sybilla returned to her own chair, signing to the newcomers to sit down. Sophie took a seat next to the dowager while Miss Mellis effaced herself into her corner as usual, but both sat staring in mingled curiosity and revulsion as Mrs Delabole, one clutching hand at her bosom, began to breathe a little more easily in the ensuing silence.
Presently her eyes opened and she gazed in a bewildered fashion at the assembled females. Ottilia performed the introductions, hoping the normality of the proceeding might serve to soothe. It could not be said that Mrs Delabole played much part in these, nor was she likely to remember the names, but she nodded in a vague way and begged everyone’s pardon, addressing herself in particular to the dowager.
“I am sorry to have barged in like this, ma’am. Only Lady Francis was kind enough to offer her assistance and I did not know where else to turn.”
“It makes no matter,” said Sybilla, gracious now that order had been restored. “You will be the better for tea, I dare say. It will be here in short order.”
The matron, still clearly distrait, nodded again. “Yes. Thank you.”
Ottilia judged it time to attempt to discover the cause of her distress. She knew better than to ask directly, however, couching her question in a loose fashion.
“I am guessing you were referring to Miss Ingleby when you spoke of her leaving, ma’am. Is that right?”
Mrs Delabole shuddered. “If it were not for Tamasine, I should be glad of it, the abandoned hussy! How dared she behave in such a fashion? And in a house where she is meant to set an example!”
An inkling of the trouble crept into Ottilia’s mind. She had not forgotten the aftermath of young Simeon’s attempt at wedding the heiress. Had passion overtaken the couple? Speculation was useless. She would have to ask.
“What did she do, Mrs Delabole, for you to call her so?”
Colour swept into the matron’s cheeks and she darted a look across at the other women, ending up at Sybilla. “I wish I did not have to relate such a thing before you, my lady, but Lady Francis was there yesterday.” She turned to Ottilia, an imploring look in her plump countenance. “You saw how it was with those two.”
“Indeed I did.” She took the bull by the horns. “Am I to take it that Miss Ingleby and Simeon Roy resumed their — er — earlier liaison?”
Shocked gasps emanated from two throats and the dowager snorted.
“Just as I thought. It could not be long before some such immorality erupted. I for one do not blame you in the least, Mrs Delabole, for wishing to wash your hands of the entire contingent.”
This attitude, while it did not assist Ottilia, had the virtue of settling Mrs Delabole’s alarms about relating the events that had driven her to the Dower House.
“Thank you, my lady, you comfort me.”
Ottilia leapt in. “Do you feel up to telling us just what occurred, ma’am? Pray don’t be apprehensive of speaking as you found. We are all strong-minded enough to hear it.”
Thus adjured, the matron set a hand to her bosom again. “I was not present at the outset, I thank the Lord, but young Tamasine went into her companion’s bedchamber and — and found them. The first I knew of it was the screaming and shouting just as I was taking my morning chocolate.”
“How very disconcerting!”
This from Miss Mellis, prompting Sophie to respond. “Disconcerting? Good heavens, I should think it must have startled you to death, ma’am!”
Mrs Delabole drew a quick breath. “Well, not immediately. I am bound to state that with my niece in the house, such outbreaks are not infrequent. Naturally, I got up and hastened to find out what had set her off this time. By the time I reached the scene, there was such an appalling mêlée in progress I did not dare enter the room. My chamber is just along the corridor, you see, so I was the first to arrive, although the servants were not slow to come to the rescue, thank goodness.”
Impatient of these details, Ottilia urged for more data. “Did Tamasine attack her companion?”
“Attack her? They were fighting like wildcats! At least, I dare say Miss Ingleby was trying to protect herself, but she rained as many blows as the girl did, for all of me. And that stupid looby was actually laughing!”
“Simeon Roy?”
“Yes. He was in the bed with them, rolling around as if he sought to evade getting hit himself. I screamed at him to intervene, but indeed he did come under attack for Tamasine leapt upon him and scratched his face.”
“Not so amusing, I surmise,” put in the dowager dryly.
“No, for he began bellowing too and if the black fellows had not thundered in, I don’t know what would have happened. It took both of them, and Lomax too, to haul Tamasine off, by which time all three were making enough noise to wake the dead.”
Ottilia’s imagination was rioting, but her mind fastened upon the one important factor. “Where was Mrs Whiting while all this was going forward?”
“Oh, she came and hopped about, shouting to footmen to bring Tamasine to the attic so she might get a dose inside her, and she went off again. I imagine she met the others up in the attic where of course they had to take the child. I could hear her screaming for an age, but my attention was captured by Miss Ingleby.”
The matron stopped, breathless from her tale, although it was plain the coming upshot was almost more painful to her than the cacophony of the fight. Anxious to hear the rest Ottilia might be, but as the tea tray arrived at this moment, she thought it more prudent to let the woman regather her senses and strength.
While Miss Mellis dispensed tea, Sophie expressed her shock in a manner that had the effect of encouraging Mrs Delabole by having someone sympathise with her feelings.
“I cannot but admire your fortitude of mind, ma’am. For myself, I should by this have been prostrate upon my bed. But I have never been strong, you must know. Such terrible scenes as you have endured are perfectly disastrous for me.”
“Very true,” Ottilia cut in before Sybilla could wither her guest. The dowager had not taken kindly to Sophie’s sickly constitution and had privately accused her to Ottilia of quacking herself. “But what occurred with the perpetrators afterwards? You said Miss Ingleby drew your attention?”
“She and he both.” The matron was sipping her tea, but set down her cup in the saucer and leaned forward, looking now rather more elevated than distressed by what she had to relate. “For one thing, they were in dishabille and you would suppose embarrassment would cause him at least to withdraw. But no such thing. Would you believe it, he tried to get back into the bed with her! But she would have none of him.”
Ottilia was obliged to wait for the comments to die down before asking for further enlightenment. “But you said, I think, that Miss Ingleby has gone?”
Mrs Delabole began to nod in as fervent a manner as she spoke. “Indeed she has. She swore at Mr Roy and knocked him back, shouting that she was leaving on the instant. Then she leapt from the bed and dragged a portmanteau from somewhere and began opening drawers and throwing things pell-mell into it.”
“Did Mr Roy try to stop her?”
“No, it was I who did that. In vain did I beg and plead with her to remain. She showed me her wounds
— and indeed they were severe for Tamasine had quite battered and bruised her — and demanded to know if I would remain in a like case, which I am bound to say I would not. The next thing I knew Mr Roy was demanding to know where she thought she was going to go, to which she had no answer. And the long and the short of it was he vowed to drive her somewhere and it is of no use to ask me where for I could not tell you.”
Ottilia was much inclined to think it good riddance to both, except that she found it difficult to believe in this fairy-tale. “Do you tell me they did actually leave the house together?”
“Yes, for he went off to dress, although I have no notion whether he took all his belongings. She most certainly did not. The chamber was strewn with clothes still even when she had rushed out, calling for one of the footmen.”
“Did you see them leave, ma’am?”
“No, for I was so put about and upset I could not bear it and I ran to my chamber to scramble into my clothes since I could scarcely reason further with the wretched woman only in my nightgown. I don’t know what happened, but when I emerged, Hemp told me Mr Roy had driven Miss Ingleby away in his curricle. Which so overset me, I could think of nothing else to do but to come here to you, Lady Francis.”
A faint hope the elopement might prove abortive stirred. After all, it was scarcely in Simeon’s interests to leave with the companion when he meant to secure Tamasine’s hand. Would he forego his sworn hope of that destiny? Besides, he must know Tamasine was unlikely to bear a grudge. In all probability, she would have forgotten the whole episode by the time she came back to herself.
“Perhaps Simeon took her only for the purpose of giving her time to recover her temper,” she suggested. “I should strongly doubt he will in fact run away with Miss Ingleby. I own it would be an excellent thing if he was to go for good, but that young man has an eye to the main chance. I should think he at least will be back before long. Moreover, I cannot suppose he will allow Miss Ingleby to depart since he won’t wish to manage Tamasine without her assistance.”
Unfortunately this opinion found no favour with Mrs Delabole. She seemed determined to consider the case hopeless and wasted a great deal of time debating whether to pack her own bags and withdraw altogether from the debacle, or to hire another companion without more ado. Since she interlarded her musings with animadversions upon the disreputable conduct of Miss Ingleby and Simeon Roy, assisted in this endeavour by both Miss Mellis and Sophie, it was some time before Ottilia could have edged in a word, even had she made the attempt. She did not, her mind busy with possibilities.
Aware of Sybilla’s narrow regard, she was rather glad than otherwise that it was impossible for her mother-in-law to demand what she was thinking. She would have been hard put to it to answer. Her scheme of taking Willow Court by surprise to try to finalise her conclusions was effectively blasted. Impossible to engage in the battle she had anticipated when the attention of the household was concentrated upon Tamasine. Although, if Francis were here, she might persuade him to make the attempt without the culprit being present, a proceeding far more likely to succeed. It would take some explaining, should events prove her wrong, but Ottilia did not believe that would happen. The delay chafed her, but it could not be helped.
Mrs Delabole was just returning to what Ottilia supposed passed for normal in her temperament when faint shouts from without arrested everyone’s attention.
The dowager set down her cup and saucer with a bang. “Oh, what is it now? Don’t tell me they are bringing the fracas over here!”
Just then a voice a little nearer at hand could be heard, calling for “Miss Tam”.
“That’s Hemp, I think,” Ottilia said, rising and going to the French window to look out.
The matron uttered a cry. “She must have escaped again! Oh, what have I ever done to deserve this?”
Sybilla was up, moving to join Ottilia. “Inevitable, I suppose, after all that fuss and bother. I could wish my house was situated elsewhere!”
Next instant, her sister-in-law was bobbing about by Ottilia’s elbow, a frantic note in her voice. “Should we not lock all the doors, ma’am? By the accounts I have had from my sons, the girl could get in anywhere.”
“Very likely,” returned the dowager, “but since she has made a habit of entering by this way, I doubt it is necessary to go to such an extreme.”
It was plain to Ottilia that Sophie was dissatisfied with this answer, for she argued the matter for several moments, only ceasing when she bethought her of the boys, commenting aloud her relief that they had gone with their father upon his errand. Ottilia caught Sybilla’s eye before she could refute this statement, giving her a quick shake of the head. The dowager’s brows rose, but she mercifully refrained from saying anything. They did not need Sophie in hysterics as well as Mrs Delabole.
The calling, which had continued unabated, receded into the distance. Ottilia opened the door and slipped out, moving into the garden and peering down towards the slope that led to the road between the two properties, at once feeling the chill through the thin sleeves of her gown. She could hear more voices, but it was impossible to tell from where they came, nor who was crying out Tamasine’s name.
“Come back inside, Ottilia,” commanded her mother-in-law, opening the door and leaning out. “It’s cold and I want to lock it. If that wretched child is wandering about, the last thing I need is for her to come battering on this door.”
Obedient to the common sense of this, Ottilia went back in and closed and locked the door behind her. Turning, she beheld Mrs Delabole once more in the throes, weeping this time all over Sophie. With an inward groan, she would have gone to the rescue, but Sybilla detained her.
“Let Mrs Hathaway deal with her, my dear, you have done enough.” She added under her breath, “Besides, it will do her good to be thinking of someone else’s difficulties for a change.”
Ottilia smiled. “No doubt. I wish Tamasine had not escaped. I imagine the whole household is out looking for her. Else I would have gone across and consulted with Hemp, I think.”
“No, you don’t! You don’t stir from this house until Francis is here to go with you. Good God, Ottilia, have you forgot how strong that girl is when she gets into one of her mad fits?”
“I have not, but I dare say she has calmed down again, if she has slipped out in the old way. She usually does so out of mischief rather than fury, if I am not mistaken.”
“I dare say. Nevertheless, I will not have you risk your safety. ”
Sighing, Ottilia allowed herself to be urged back into the room. It irked her to be idle at such a juncture. On the other hand, she had promised Francis only the direst necessity would draw her forth.
The sudden sound of feet pounding in the direction of the house drove her back to the window, the dowager right behind her
“Don’t open the door, whatever you do!”
By now the rest of the party had realised something was up and, although Mrs Delabole shrank back in her cushions, both Sophie and Miss Mellis came crowding round.
“Is it that girl again? Come away, do, Lady Francis, or she will be throwing stones again!”
“I hardly think she will do that, Miss Mellis. Besides, it does not sound like her steps.”
No sooner had she spoken than a figure appeared at the window. A shorter one than Tamasine, with uncovered blond locks, who first tried the door and then knocked frantically on the glass.
“Auntilla! Auntilla!”
Sophie uttered a shriek. “Oh, heavens, it is Ben! What is he doing out there? Is she after him? Let him in, Ottilia!”
Ottilia’s fingers were already turning the key. She wrenched open the door and her nephew flung through, seizing her arms and shrieking in a terror-stricken voice.
“Auntilla, you’ve got to come quick! The madwoman! She’s got Tom!”
Chapter 18
For a heart-stopping moment, Ottilia could neither move nor think, but as pandemonium broke out around her, she came to her senses in
a bang. Ben was moving towards his mother, who had given way to immediate hysterics, crying out her younger son’s name and collapsing onto the sofa. Ottilia caught her nephew about the shoulders.
“Let be, Ben! Your mama has two ladies attending to her already.”
“Where’s Papa?”
“Out, but he will be sent for at once.”
She found Sybilla at her elbow. “Go, Ottilia! I will despatch young Toby to fetch back both Doctor Hathaway and Francis.”
Ottilia lowered her voice. “Keep Sophie from following, Sybilla!”
“Stay! You ought to take a cloak. It’s freezing.”
“There is no time. I will survive, never fear.” Seizing the boy, she went quickly through the French doors, leaving her mother-in-law to shut them behind her. “Let us hurry, Ben! We have not a moment to lose. You may tell me on the way just what occurred.”
Only now did it strike her that her nephew was dashing tears from his eyes. His voice was choked.
“It was my fault, Auntilla! I should never have suggested we go there.”
“Yes, never mind that. What happened?”
The chill was penetrating, but Ottilia barely noticed, her concentration on setting one foot in front of the other safely even at speed. Her pulse was behaving in a distressing fashion and her chest was hollow, but her mind remained all too clear as she pictured the images Ben was painting.
“We never meant to do more than scout around the village, I swear, Auntilla, and we had got up a game of skimming pebbles on the pond with some of the boys hereabouts. Then that fellow Simeon came racing along in his curricle and he had Miss Ingleby up beside him. He was driving hell for leather, Auntilla, and she was looking like a nightmare! As they passed I heard her say she was never going back and they could all go to hell, for all she cared.”
Ottilia grasped his hand. “A little slower, if you please, Ben. And you need waste no time telling me of that pair. Mrs Delabole has given me that story. What about Tamasine?”
Moderating his pace, Ben sucked in a distraught breath. “She went missing, Auntilla. Or at least they thought she had. Only she hadn’t. She was —” He broke off, drew a sobbing breath, and tried again. “At first we just went on with our game, but in the end I said to Tom we should go and see what was up with the place, and I know I shouldn’t have, but —”
The Lady Fan Series: Books 1-3 (Sapere Books Boxset Editions) Page 101
