“I understand from your daughter that she has been an outstanding governess to whom Miss Sullington is deeply attached; as a consequence you will write an excellent reference, which will enable her to find more congenial employment - if that is what she wishes to do.
“I shall myself escort Miss Holmdale to your house so that she may pack her bags. You will give her whatever is owing to her, as well as the reference and an apology for your vicious and undeserved attack. I am thankful that I was here and able to protect her from your aggression – at no little cost to myself.” As he spoke he raised his hand to the back of his neck; when he removed it there was blood upon his fingers.
Lady Sullington, seeing it, lost what little colour had returned to her face since the argument began. She knew that, if he had intended to offer for her daughter, this was now exceedingly unlikely for what man, in his right mind, would wish to ally himself to a female whose mother, when she lost her temper, brandished a horse whip with considerable force and accuracy. Unable to think of a rejoinder, she tilted her chin and twitched the reins.
She turned the phaeton with no little skill while the Duke and Sylvia stood, unmoving, upon the pavement, she still held firmly behind him. Only when it had disappeared in the direction of her ladyship’s house, did he turn round. Sylvia’s face was almost as white as her employer’s had been and her lips trembled, try as she would to hold them together.
“I would apologise for causing you to lose your job,” he said, “except that I cannot conceive how you could have worked in such a household for so much as a minute. How long have you been employed by that harpy?”
“Seven years. She is odious, but I am attached to Melissa.”
“As is she to you. I will order a hackney to transport you and your effects to Mivart’s as soon as you have packed.”
“What and where is Mivart’s?” she asked suspiciously, afraid that it might be a house of ill repute.
“A respectable hotel on the corner of Brook Street. You can stay there for a few days while I make other arrangements for you – of an even more respectable nature. When you arrive, I daresay you can cobble together some story to explain, not only your lack of a maid and a substantial quantity of luggage, but also your drab clothes. They seem very dark: perhaps you could be in half-mourning. You have been staying with an uncle or aunt somewhere in the wilds of the country but, now that both have gone to meet their Maker, you have decided to journey to London where your only other known relatives – my sister and me – are presently residing. I shall ask my sister to call upon you; she might even be able to furnish you with a maid and will certainly set about clothing you in a more fitting fashion. I daresay that, in the wilds of whichever distant county you have been immured with the aunt or uncle, there are not many fashionable outfitters and no one to notice how very out-of-date a figure you present.”
“I can see that you have begun to enjoy weaving a story to explain my appearance but you cannot have thought it through. I am not merely out-of-date but dressed as a governess. If I turn up at a respectable hotel looking like this, it will be perfectly clear what my profession is. No one related to you, even if they had been mouldering in the depths of the country with an aged relative, would be dressed in quite such a dowdy fashion or – not to put too fine a point upon it – so cheaply.”
“I knew I should have bought the pelisse to go with the hat. You have a perfectly good bonnet – unless you have thrown it away.”
“No, I have it still. But I cannot afford to go to a hotel. I should be grateful if you would come into the Sullington house with me, and also if you would order me a hackney carriage; but I would very much rather it convey me to wherever I may catch the stage to take me home to my parents.”
“You will have at least three months’ wages when you leave the Sullingtons. If her ladyship is reluctant to give it to you, I shall myself demand that she does so, so you need not be exercised on that account. I have no idea when the next stage will set off in the right direction to take you home, nor whence it departs. Does your family still live in the same place?”
“Yes.”
“Do you wish to creep home with your tail between your legs, dismissed from your employment? What will you do there?”
“I shall look for another position. You ordered Lady Sullington to give me a reference so I suppose I shall not find it impossible to secure further employment, but I cannot afford to stay in a hotel in London while I do so. I am not paid a great deal and I should not suppose that three months’ wages will be sufficient for even a week in a London hotel.”
“Probably not at Mivart’s.”
“Is it very expensive? I know so little of London that I cannot think where I can go but surely there must be a cheaper place where I could lay my head for a day or two.”
“No doubt, but I am determined that you will not be punished for my conduct. I admit that I meant you harm, that I was determined to hurt you and left no stone unturned to insult and demean you at every opportunity, but I did not intend that you should be accused of harlotry or cast ignominiously into the street.”
“Did you not? And yet you tried – and succeeded – in making me look and feel like a - ‘bit of fluff’, is it? – in the milliner’s shop. Why has your attitude changed?”
“Because I kissed you, dammit!”
“I thought that was a punishment or another way to show anyone watching that I was – whatever it is called.”
“A bit of fluff, as you suggested. I cannot think where you heard such a term and am surprised to hear it on your lips. Do you want to know some other euphemisms for the same thing?” He went on, without waiting for permission, “lightskirt, barque of frailty, bird of paradise: would you rather be one of those?”
“Very much rather; one or two of them sound positively exotic and are a vast improvement on ‘a bit of fluff’, which makes me think of something unwanted adhering to your coat sleeve. ‘Lightskirt’ is only too descriptive, I fear, and ‘barque of frailty’? What precisely do you suppose that means?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“I do not wish to hear a graphic description, no, but I am wondering if the ‘frailty’ refers to the vessel or to the man who boards it.”
He raised an eyebrow and curled his lip. “You are becoming a little too frank for my taste.”
“Indeed? And yet you have kept such a person for years, have you not? Do you tell me that you are prepared to embark upon this ‘barque’ without even considering your own frailty in doing so? I have no doubt it is the female who is considered ‘frail’ rather than the man.”
“I had already disembarked when you threw me over. You cited, as I recall, something unpleasant from the Scriptures concerning fornication. You sat in judgment upon me without permitting me to explain. I had dismissed my bird of paradise as soon as I met you but you, with a startlingly unchristian absence of charity for the ‘frailty’ of others, preferred the moral high ground to the marriage bed with one such as me.”
“I am sorry,” she said forlornly, unable to think of a reply to match the anger and contempt that she heard in his voice.
“It is a little late to apologise for that action but I apologise for mine in setting you up to be mistaken for a wanton. It was unpardonable.”
“I shall not, in that case, attempt to pardon you.”
“No; and, because your loss of employment is entirely my fault, I shall not permit Lady Sullington’s malice to damage you. I know you to be the most complete prude; that is why I chose that particular form of revenge; I thought it would sting – I hoped it would - but I did not think that it would have such a dramatic effect. I apologise for teasing you - and for kissing you.”
“It was not teasing,” she contradicted. “It was bullying; and you have kissed me before.”
“When we were affianced – and you kissed me back.”
“I loved you at the time.”
“You kissed me back just now,” he pointed out.
“I s
uppose it was an old habit. I daresay I did not know what I was doing. I did not mean to do so.”
“Just so – and I did not mean to kiss you as I did.”
Having established that the nature of the kiss was an aberration on both their parts, they stood facing each other, bereft for a moment of words, until Sylvia remembered the blood she had seen upon his fingers.
“Are you hurt?”
“Nothing to refine upon. She managed to draw a little blood. Do not give it another thought.”
“Is it still bleeding?”
“I should not think so.” He touched his neck again and examined his fingers. “A little.”
“Let me see.”
He bent his head in what might, from the point of view of a bystander, have passed for an exceptionally deep bow. Sylvia leaned forward and pushed the folds of his neckcloth down to examine the wound. There was a long cut across the back of his neck, still sluggishly bleeding. She drew her handkerchief from her bosom and dabbed at it.
“It is a wonder she did not sever your head from your neck,” she observed.
“The main force of the blow hit my shoulders, which were, fortunately, protected by my coat,” he said, straightening. “When she raised her arm, she was aiming at a lower target than my neck; yours.”
“She cannot have intended to behead me,” she argued.
“I am not sure that she was sufficiently in possession of her reason to have any intention other than to hurt you. You seem to have incurred her displeasure to a quite remarkable degree. What have you done?”
“I am not certain but she only kept me on because she believed that I would have a greater influence with Melissa than she. She wished me to promote your suit; I did attempt to, but Melissa was not having it.”
“Is that so? Why has she taken against me so exceedingly?”
“For two reasons: firstly, she expressed herself displeased with the way you spoke to me outside the milliner’s and, secondly, she has already given her heart to another.”
“How very affecting!” he said sarcastically without making clear which of the two he found so moving.
“Were you looking for a witness to your assault while you were carrying it out?” she asked curiously.
“Do I understand you to be implying that I was not paying proper attention to kissing you?”
“I am certain you were not paying attention to that precisely; only I think you hoped that someone would see it and be able to attest to my loose behaviour.”
“Just so. But I did not expect that person to be your employer, nor did I expect her revenge to be so extreme – or so immediate.”
“That is a great comfort to me when I have been assaulted by you, lost my job, and am no doubt to be made the object of scandalous gossip.”
“Was it so disagreeable? There was a moment when I could have sworn it was to your liking. But for my noticing the shadow of your nemesis bearing down upon you, you might have lost your head – or even, if she had managed to curl the whip effectively, your looks.”
“You would have lost yours too if she had done that,” she snapped.
“True. I can see that I, too, must be thankful for how it turned out. Shall we go now to collect your baggage? Do you suppose Miss Sullington is still confined to her room?”
“Probably. Did you wish to speak to her?”
“No, and, from what you say, she is most unlikely to wish to speak to me. I should think it would be much better if she were to keep to her room until we have concluded our business with her mother.”
“Yes, I daresay that is true but I should like to say good-bye to her.”
“You have been forbidden to speak to her again.”
“Well, since I am no longer employed by Lady Sullington, I see no reason why I should pay any attention to her orders. Indeed, now that I am quite on my own, I think I shall please myself.”
“What an excellent notion! Have you any ideas on what form that might take?”
“Not quite at present but, since you seem determined to hurt me, I do not believe that I shall divulge them to you in any event. You might so easily throw a rub in my way!”
“Oh, I think I have probably done you enough damage to satisfy my bitterness – at least for the time being. Now that you are humiliated and in need of my help, I feel quite kindly towards you. As for her ladyship: she is an appalling woman but I must own that she and I have something in common: our dislike – perhaps even fear - of you. What, I wonder, is it about you that engenders such strong feelings in others? Lord Marklye, for instance? He does not dislike you but is, I should judge from the gift, in a fair way to falling in love with you.”
“I thought you believed he wished to seduce me.”
“I don’t doubt he would like to but, my dear girl, whatever I may have implied, you are deeply respectable. He would have to have some very odd notions to think you could be bribed into his bed with a handful of diamonds.”
He put his hand in his pocket and withdrew the package. “Perhaps, now that you no longer have an income of any sort, you should after all keep these.”
“I own that I should like nothing better. They are the most extraordinarily beautiful diamonds but I am by far too prudish, as you pointed out, to put, not only my reputation, but also my person, in danger of any such thing. They must be returned.”
“Very well.”
They had by this time reached the corner of the street on which the Sullington house stood.
“I will come with you as far as the door and, while you are packing, I will instruct a footman to find a hackney to carry you and your effects to Mivart’s. When you have packed, collect the money you are owed, as well as your reference, and have your belongings conveyed to the hackney. I shall not come with you to Mivart’s since I wish you to arrive alone in a dull and respectable manner. Bespeak a room for yourself and one for your maid, let drop that you are my distant cousin and install yourself. You can explain your arrival by hackney, the absence of the maid and your trunks by saying that you were the victim of an accident upon the road. Assure them that these missing appurtenances so essential to a lady’s comfort will no doubt arrive soon.”
Chapter 17
The door was opened by the butler as Sylvia ran up the steps. No doubt he had already been issued with instructions to bar her entry because, as soon as he saw her, he made to close it in her face.
The Duke, seeing this, followed rapidly, two steps at a time. The butler was for a moment flummoxed and held the door in a half-open position until Rother had arrived at the top when, bowing almost to the floor, he held it open.
“Come along, dear Cousin,” the Duke said to Sylvia in an avuncular style, setting his foot in the door, before addressing the butler. “I daresay you have been told not to allow my unfortunate cousin to enter. Foreseeing this, I am here to ensure that she is permitted to pack her bags. Pray step aside. You may occupy yourself in calling a hackney carriage to convey Miss Holmdale to Mivart’s Hotel.”
The butler, not wishing to offend either the Duke – whom he knew to be much honoured in the household – or his employer, found himself in a quandary. It seemed that it would be impossible not to offend one or the other but, after a moment’s awkward pause, during which he reviewed the fact that the Duke’s foot was already within and that he had spoken of the governess packing her bags – which meant, he hoped, that she would be gone very soon, perhaps even before his mistress knew that she had been here again – he conceded defeat and stepped back to allow the Duke to follow his foot and the governess to follow him.
“I shall await you here,” the Duke said to Sylvia, who had already mounted the first step of the stairs. “Bring an overnight bag of some sort but leave your trunks, once you have packed them, to be conveyed later. Pray do not be afraid; you will be quite safe while I remain here in the hall.”
“Shall I?” she asked, giving him a quizzical glance.
He nodded and directed his next remark to the butler. “Is Miss
Sullington at home?”
“Yes, your grace. Would you like me to apprise her of your presence?”
“No, thank you. And Lady Sullington? She is here, I presume?”
“Yes, your grace. Would you like me to announce you?”
“Again, no, thank you. I shall wait here.”
“Your grace would be more comfortable in the small saloon,” the butler suggested diffidently, opening a door on the right of the hall.
“I shall be quite easy here,” the Duke replied, sitting down on a chair conveniently placed beside the door into what he knew, from previous visits, to be the saloon in which her ladyship was often to be found.
“Can I bring your grace some refreshment?” the butler asked.
“No, thank you. I do not suppose that it will take my cousin long to pack her effects. You could more usefully occupy yourself in calling a hackney carriage, as I suggested before.”
“Yes, your grace, certainly, your grace.” The butler, who was far too grand to do anything so menial himself, nodded at one of the footmen who stood impassively on either side of the hall. “Do as his grace bids, William.”
As the young man scurried off on his errand, the Duke studied his nails and the butler, at a loss as to what he should do with the grand but uninvited guest, bowed again and backed away. He hoped that her ladyship would not emerge from the saloon to find the Duke sitting in the hall on a hard chair with no refreshment; he was, indeed, afraid for his own position if that should happen; Lady Sullington was not by any means above dismissing her butler if he displeased her.
When he had backed some distance away, his grace glanced up from contemplation of his nails and said carelessly, “It is quite all right. You need not fear that you will get into trouble. I shall vouch for your having offered me every comfort within your power. I should, however, be a great deal more comfortable if you were not hovering in the background. Pray return to your own quarters.”
“Yes, your grace,” the butler muttered. He turned and walked to the door at the far end of the hall, which led to the servants’ quarters, and went through it, shutting it noiselessly behind him.
Sylvia Or The Moral High Ground Page 15