Lissa

by Mira Stables

  The girl’s control in face of this rebuke was quite creditable. She coloured up finely but her voice was low and steady as she said, “You are very right, my lord Marquis. I am indeed deeply indebted to Lord Stapleford and would do whatever I might to serve him. Pray tell me how best I may do so.”

  Once again the Marquis’s conscience gave him an uncomfortable moment. The little thing was so confiding, so innocent. He reminded himself that he had spoken truth when he had said that he was concerned for her welfare. For what would become of her if Stapleford, denied marriage, should choose to make her his mistress? No doubt they would be blissfully happy for a while and in Stapleford’s case little harm would be done. But for the girl it would be the first step in a descending spiral that could end in disease and direst poverty on London’s streets. He could do better for her than that.

  “The trouble is, my dear, that you are too pretty by far,” he began, and smiled to see her startled expression. No one had ever called her pretty before. “Add to that the fact that you have been seen everywhere with my grandson and that he has lingered at Stapleford instead of returning to Town for the Season, and you will see that there was ample ground for gossip. I regret that I must speak in such plain terms to one so young, but it would do Stapleford a great deal of harm to have it said that he had seduced a mere child, his sister’s companion, and living under his own roof. Though it is not generally known I am in hopes that he will shortly be forming a very eligible alliance with a young lady whose parents would take grave exception to such libertine behaviour.”

  Good God! The girl was going to faint! At the Marquis’s optimistic, not to say mendacious, account of his grandson’s intentions, every vestige of colour had fled and she put out one hand blindly as though to ward off some threatened danger. Hurriedly the Marquis pressed her back into the chair and sought about him for some restorative. There was only the brandy that stood on a small Pembroke table near the hearth and he was a little doubtful of the effect of so powerful a stimulant. Nevertheless he hastily splashed some into a goblet and held it to the girl’s lips. She tried to turn her head aside but his lordship insisted, tilting the glass so that she was forced to swallow some of the horrid stuff. She shuddered at the fierce bite of it but it certainly dispelled the faintness that had for a moment threatened to overwhelm her. Presently she was able to sit up and murmur her thanks for his lordship’s attentions. He eyed her uneasily, feeling that it might be wiser to defer the rest of his remarks until she was more completely recovered, but the girl herself took the initiative.

  “What do you wish me to do, my lord? You said that I could be helpful if I would. Shall I return to my foster mother?”

  It was gallantly said, with no hint of how dismal such a prospect now appeared. But the suggestion did not appeal to the Marquis at all.

  “I do not think that is the best answer,” he said consideringly, and did not add that any answer which left her within Stapleford’s reach would be totally unacceptable. “It would be better to follow the original plan. But instead of waiting till next year we will set about it at once. I am quite as well placed as Stapleford in the matter of finding you a suitable post and have no doubt that in a little while we shall hit upon the very thing. But it is essential that you should leave at once, for only in that way can the scandal be scotched. So until we find you a situation I propose to place you for a time in the home of a relative of mine, a distant cousin who resides in Torquay. She is elderly and lives very retired but you will be quite safe and comfortable with her. Now don’t worry your little head about anything. Just look forward to a delightful holiday beside the sea. I believe sea bathing is all the crack nowadays—you will enjoy that, won’t you? I will arrange that you are amply supplied with funds. There are some very good shops in Torquay. You will like to choose some pretty fripperies after living so quietly here. I shall write to my cousin at once to advise her of your coming and my own coachman shall drive you down, with one of the maids for propriety’s sake.” And he sighed with relief and some complaisance at having handled a delicate task with both good sense and due sympathy, and proceeded to indite his letter to his cousin, engaging her good offices for the unfortunate young girl whom he would shortly be consigning to her care.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Marquis might have spared his pains. In his dealings with Lissa he had made two grave errors. He had forgotten that she had not been reared in the tradition of unquestioning obedience that was so carefully inculcated in the well-bred society maidens to whom he was accustomed. Lissa had learned to fight her own battles, make her own decisions, Even so, dazed and stricken as she was by the news of Jervase’s impending betrothal, she might well have submitted to his lordship’s kindly management with the expected docility if he had not made the further mistake of treating her as though she was a child to be cozened with promises of treats in store, and, above all, if he had not offered her money.

  That final insult did more than the brandy to revive her failing spirit, and set her, when she had reached the seclusion of her own room, to thinking more carefully about the whole scheme. Why should she be hurried away to distant Torquay as though she had committed some crime and had to be hidden? It was reasonable to suppose, as the Marquis had explained, that Mary would be distressed at her going, and she had quite readily agreed not to mention her approaching departure to anyone until he had first completed his arrangements to send his grand-daughter to London. She should go on a long visit to her Aunt Goldsborough and by the time that she came home would have grown accustomed to doing without Lissa. But when it came to directing her comings and goings, it did not take Lissa long to decide that the Marquis had not the shadow of a right to dictate to her. If her going from the Place was necessary for Jervase’s happiness, then certainly she would go. But she would go in her own time and to a destination of her own choosing.

  For the moment she must put her own plans aside. Mary was delighted with the prospect of a visit to London though regretful that Lissa was not to share the treat. There was an excited bustle of preparation and packing. The Comtesse, who had business affairs of her own to attend to in Town, had agreed to act as escort for the journey, though she would be returning almost immediately. She suggested that Lissa might like to go home to Nanty for a brief visit, but when the girl returned a noncommittal answer she did not press the matter.

  In the intervals of helping to choose the dresses that Mary should take and listening to the promises of frequent letters to be written and gifts to be brought back, Lissa wrestled with her own problem. She was not quite penniless. There were a few guineas that Nanty had saved for her from her wages at Bank Sykes, and since coming to live at the Place she had received a regular allowance of pin money along with Mary. But that would not last long. She must find work quickly—and how was that to be done without references or friends to speak for her?

  Comfort, and the germ of a plan, came to her in the guise of a letter from Miss Parminter which was delivered on the very day that the Comtesse and Mary left for London. At least she had one staunch friend she thought, carrying the epistle out into the Italian garden to read at leisure. Perhaps Miss Parminter would help her to find work, though she was doubtful as to whether the funds at her disposal were sufficient to pay her fare on the London stage. But when she had broken the wafer and unfolded the single sheet, that problem at least was resolved. For the letter, penned in haste, advised her that Miss Parminter was about to leave London. General Carnforth had been persuaded to remove to Bath, in the hope that a course of the waters would benefit his health. She was to accompany him on the journey and see him settled into his lodging, but after that her plans were uncertain. However, since Bath was only forty miles distant from Stapleford, it might be possible for Lissa to pay her a short visit, since she intended to take a holiday, after the exacting task of nursing the old man, before resuming her duties at Stapleford Place.

  Here was much food for thought. Lissa walked slowly back to the house turn
ing over in her mind how best she could make use of the new state of affairs. Miss Parminter would receive her at once, she was sure, however inconvenient, and Bath would be a very good place in which to seek employment. There were a great many girls’ schools in the city and with Miss Parminter to speak for her she might possibly obtain a post as an under-governess in one of them. Absently she tidied away a few last minute trifles that Mary had left lying about and began to bundle together a pile of out-grown garments that the Comtesse had asked her to send down to the Vicarage for distribution to needy families. Her fingers worked slowly for her mind was busily forming and rejecting plans by which she might slip away from the village and travel to Bath unobserved. It must be soon, or, knowing the Marquis, she was like to find herself carried to Torquay willy-nilly. Any day now would see the return of his messenger and after that her departure would not be long delayed. She could almost hear the old autocrat declaring impatiently that there was no need to waste time in packing. She could buy all that she would need in those admirable shops in Torquay. Packing! Her hands abandoned their desultory activities as she conceived a notion of such delightful simplicity that, test it as she would, she did not see how it could fail. It would mean enlisting Ned Hetherston’s aid, but there could be no difficulty about that. She had too often helped him out of awkward fixes in the past to stand in any doubt of his willingness to serve her. A glance at the schoolroom clock informed her that the hour was not yet eleven. There would be time to seek out Ned before her early luncheon. If only he had not elected to go off on a long ramble, as he was still prone to do!

  But fortune smiled on her enterprise. She did not even need to call at the Vicarage, for she encountered Ned hacking gently down the very lane that had been the scene of their last meeting. His manner was a little stiff at first, so that, had her mind not been so preoccupied by her urgent need, she would have been asking what she had done to merit his displeasure. But as soon as young Mr. Hetherston heard her story—for she told him only of her earnest wish to leave the Place and journey secretly to join Miss Parminter in Bath—he unbent swiftly enough. Still resenting the cavalier treatment he had received at Lord Stapleford’s hands, he was only too ready to put his own interpretation on Lissa’s story. If Stapleford had been pestering her with unwanted attentions that would be reason enough for her wish to escape. And since her destination was a highly respectable lodging in Gay Street where she proposed to put herself under the protection of the formidable Miss Parminter, there could be no possible harm in helping her. In fact he would be delighted to throw a rub in his lordship’s path. He did wonder whether he ought not to suggest that she seek shelter with his aunt, but on second thoughts realised that this would place his uncle in a rather difficult position vis-a-vis his patron. He then joined wholeheartedly in devising a plan that should be absolutely foolproof.

  “Could you be ready to leave tomorrow?” he asked, after much animated discussion. “The thing is, you see, I had already told my aunt that I was thinking of visiting friends in Warminster for a day or two, and my uncle said I might take the gig. So if you could be ready and we arranged to meet somewhere, I could see you safely to your destination myself and no one would think anything of my absence. Could you manage to pack your gear and smuggle it out of the house without any of the servants noticing? For if you’re spotted and we chance to be seen together, it’ll be all over the village that we’ve eloped before the cat can lick her ear.”

  “That’s just it,” explained Lissa with an echo of her former gaiety. “It was the packing that made me think of you.”

  He grinned. “Your flattery overwhelms me, ma’am. No use for my manifest virtues as an escort—my strong right arm, my vast worldly knowledge, not to mention my entertaining conversation. No! You think of packing—as wearisome a task as the mind of man can conceive—and think at once of me. My thanks!”

  “No, but do but listen, Ned,” she urged, with no more than a polite smile for his raillery. “I was packing up some of Mary’s dresses to give to your uncle for some of his poor families when I saw at once that nothing could be simpler than to pack a few necessities for myself and bring them down to the Vicarage at the same time. You could conceal them in the gig, under a rug or something, couldn’t you?”

  Her ally admitted that such a task ought not to be beyond his powers of ingenuity and they arranged to meet at the point where the Stapleford lane joined the main Warminster road at ten o’clock next day. Lissa would need to start betimes since she would have to walk to the rendezvous, but they dared not arrange to meet any nearer the village. Nor must she linger any longer now, for fear she would be missed. Ned walked beside her a little way, leading his horse, his pleasant countenance suddenly subdued with embarrassment. “I say, Lissa,” he blurted out abruptly. “Are the dibs in tune? I mean to say—well—I know you’re going to stay with friends and all that, but it won’t do to go without a penny in your pocket. It just so happens that I’m pretty well in funds just now, so if a trifling loan would make you feel more comfortable—” His faltering phrases died away and he studied the dusty lane beneath their feet with deep intensity. Lissa caught his free hand in hers and carried it to her face, rubbing her cheek against it like an affectionate kitten. “Bless you, Ned,” she said with warm gratitude. “You’re a dear. But it’s all right. I have sufficient for my needs.”

  He was not wholly reassured but knew better than to press the matter further. Presently he had the brilliant notion of slipping a purse into the bundle that was to be entrusted to him and felt a little happier. He turned back at the Stapleford Place gates, trotting cheerfully down the lane, his mind pleasantly engaged with plans for tomorrow’s expedition. It would be a jolly good lark, he decided, unaware that his fellow traveller was thinking that she had never been so unhappy before. She must look her usual self, for Ned had noticed nothing amiss, but there was an ache in her throat that made speaking painful and only by a determined effort could she hold back the tears at the thought that tomorrow she must say good-bye to the Place, perhaps for ever.

  Yet she was fully as anxious to be gone as even the Marquis himself could have wished, and dreaded the possibility that the Viscount might return before she was safe away. She had always known that he was not for her. But so long as he was not pledged to another she had been free to worship him, to sun herself in his manifest liking which, of late, had seemed so warmly protective, and to dream her shy girlish dreams of serving him in some way that would establish her firmly in his affection. When chance had offered she had stored up pictures of him in her mind; the laughter in the dark eyes over Mary’s antics in the hooped skirt; the arrogant tilt of his head for encroaching sycophancy or hypocrisy; the gentle dexterity of the lean brown fingers in handling a sick hound. Now those pictures were all that she might honourably keep. The thought of seeing him again, of touching in greeting the fingers that could set her pulses racing, was not to be endured. That the parting must come she had accepted as the price of her secret rapture. But it had come so soon and so suddenly that she felt as though her heart was being wrenched in two. At one moment she wished him only happiness and contentment in his marriage, in the next she was consumed with a fury of hatred for his unknown bride that shocked even herself. At the very thought of the girl her fingers crooked themselves into claws, avid to scratch and strangle.

  She shook her head fiercely as though to deny her desolation and quickened her pace. She had not been missed, though Janet was waiting to serve her solitary luncheon. She had little appetite and only toyed with the breast of chicken cooked in white wine sauce which was one of her favourites. Janet was reproachful, trying to coax her to eat. Auntie, she said, had ordered this specially tempting meal knowing that Miss Lissa would be feeling lonesome all by herself, and declaring that there was nothing like good victuals for cheering a body up. And see, here were the very first of the strawberries and a pitcher of cream to pour over them. Lissa was insensibly comforted by the girl’s concern and by Mrs. Grah
am’s thought for her, but it was difficult to force even strawberries and cream past that lump in her throat and she was thankful enough to lay down the spoon when the schoolroom door opened and the Marquis walked in.

  He nodded dismissal to Janet and apologised punctiliously to Lissa for interrupting her meal and for coming to see her in his riding dress. Almost as though she was grown up, she thought fleetingly, and then forgot everything else as he went on to inform her that her journey was all arranged for the following day. The groom who had carried his letter to Torquay had just returned and Miss Granger had written to say that it would be quite convenient to receive his young charge. “So you can get that wench to pack your belongings. Graham’s niece, isn’t she? Seems a sensible sort of girl. You’d best take her along for your abigail. There’s no need to make a very early start—you’ll be bound to spend one night on the road in any case. But Sansom assures me that there’s very decent accommodation to be had in Crewkerne, or in Honiton if you make good speed. I’ve ordered the carriage for ten o’clock—that will be time enough. And as I shan’t see you again before you leave, here’s a little something to buy yourself a pretty gown or two, as I promised.”