The Waverly Women Series (3-Book Bundle)

by M C Beaton

  “Come with me, Mrs. Ricketts,” commanded the earl. “I wish to show you something.”

  The housekeeper bobbed a curtsy and followed him next door. The earl pointed down into the area. “Mr. Fordyce is going to rent this place, but the kitchen is a disgrace. Do you think Mrs. Waverley would be interested in letting Mr. Fordyce have the benefit of her advice? It sadly needs a woman’s touch.” As Mrs. Ricketts leaned over the railings, the earl glanced sideways and saw out of the corner of his eye Fanny slipping in through the street door that Mrs. Ricketts had left standing open.

  “Very particular about kitchens is Mrs. Waverley,” said Mrs. Ricketts. “And the poor lady does need an interest, she’s been that low recently. But she won’t see anyone.”

  “Perhaps if you could furnish me with pen and paper,” said the earl, “I could persuade her.”

  “You can try, my lord,” said Mrs. Ricketts, “but I don’t know that it will do any good.”

  The earl and Mr. Fordyce followed Mrs. Ricketts back indoors. She led them to the library and indicated a desk over against one wall.

  The earl took out his penknife and sharpened a quill and then looked thoughtfully at the paper. That little whisper of the Prince Regent’s of “Clorinda” still nagged. Had she gone into hiding for fear of seeing him again? Then he wrote, “Dear Mrs. Waverley, Mr. Fordyce is desirous of renting the property next door, but the kitchen is in a sad mess and he is in need of help and advice. He has not followed the Prince Regent to Brighton, but has decided to try to enjoy the rest of the Season in more commodious accommodation. We are waiting below and should both be immensely grateful if you could spare us a few moments of your valuable time. Your humble and obedient servant, Tredair.”

  “What’s all that about Brighton?” asked Mr. Fordyce, peering over the earl’s shoulder. “I had no intention of going to that watering place, prince or no prince.”

  “Hush,” said the earl, sanding the letter and handing it to Mrs. Ricketts.

  Mrs. Waverley was lying on a day bed by the window of her bedchamber when Mrs. Ricketts entered with the earl’s letter. She had lost weight and there were pouches under her eyes.

  “What is it, Ricketts?” she asked feebly.

  “It’s that Earl of Tredair,” said Mrs. Ricketts.

  “Send him away.”

  “Yes, mum, but you’d best give me an answer to his letter.”

  “Oh, very well.” Mrs. Waverley read the letter and then read it again. Her eyebrows rose in surprise. A faint tinge of color appeared in her cheeks. “What an odd request!” she exclaimed. “And yet, men are so helpless. If the management of parliament was left to women, you would see a change for the better, Ricketts.”

  “Yes, mum,” said Mrs. Ricketts, beginning to smile. A Mrs. Waverley on the subject of the superiority of women was a Mrs. Waverley beginning to recover. “Won’t you see them? I’ve put them in the library. Ever so upset his lordship was about his friend’s kitchen. Really dirty he said it was.”

  Mrs. Waverley flung back the rug that covered her and rose majestically, the light of battle in her eyes. “Go ahead, Ricketts,” she said. “I will see them myself.”

  In ten minutes time Mrs. Waverley was standing in the filthy kitchen next door, looking about her cheerfully.

  “I suggest you leave the management of this to me, Mr. Fordyce. Men are so weak and helpless when it comes to management. Ricketts! Fetch the girls and tell them to put on their old clothes and aprons. Bring the other servants. Let battle commence!”

  “I say, ma’am,” said Mr. Fordyce, round-eyed, as Mrs. Waverley began to roll up her sleeves. “You’re never going to tackle this yourself. Not to mention your girls!”

  “A lady should be able to do anything a servant can do and better!” said Mrs. Waverley.

  “And a gentleman,” said the earl, removing his coat and beginning to roll up his sleeves as well. “With your permission, ma’am, I shall go next door and help the girls carry all the cleaning tools.”

  Lady Artemis returned from her drive and as usual went up to her drawing room and peered through her telescope at the Waverley mansion, hoping for a glimpse of the Earl of Tredair.

  All of a sudden he came into focus, walking into that house next door with those Waverley girls and all of them carrying mops and pails and brushes. The earl was in his shirt sleeves and was laughing at something Frederica was saying. Fanny looked flushed and excited and her hair gleamed like pale gold.

  Screaming for her lady’s maid, Lady Artemis erupted into her bedchamber, scrabbling in her wardrobe for her oldest clothes.

  When she considered she was suitably dressed, she hurried over the square and made her way down the area steps where she had seen the party descending.

  The Waverley girls were scrubbing down the walls, the earl was down on his hands and knees scrubbing the floor, Mrs. Waverley was through in the scullery, rattling pots and pans, Mr. Fordyce was standing helplessly in the middle of the kitchen, and the Waverley servants were working on the servants hall, the still room, and the storage room.

  “It’s a cleaning party,” said the earl. “Mr. Fordyce will insist on living here, and Mrs. Waverley is giving us all a lesson in house-wifery.”

  Lady Artemis looked into his laughing, mocking, tantalizing green eyes.

  She carefully drew off her gloves.

  “What a good idea,” she said faintly. “Where do I start?”

  Chapter Six

  Lady Artemis dressed to go out that evening with less than her usual care. She was turning over the day’s events in her mind. She had only started to clean that disgusting kitchen because the earl was doing so and planned to plead the headache at the first possible opportunity. But, somehow, all the laughter and housework and chatter became enjoyable. Soon the compulsion to have the kitchen shining gripped everyone, including Mr. Fordyce. How they had worked! How exciting it had been to see the limewash mixed with blue covering the scrubbed walls and to see the copper pans gleaming on the shelves. But more than anything had been the look in the earl’s eyes, and his words to her as she had left—“You are a most fascinating and surprising woman, Lady Artemis.”

  The conversation that day had been stimulating as well. Mrs. Waverley had brought up the subject of the masses of prostitutes who thronged the playhouse. At first Lady Artemis had been shocked. One knew that such creatures existed, but one did not talk about them. Mr. Fordyce had claimed that all such women were depraved, but Mrs. Waverley argued that a great many were forced into prostitution through lack of money, rather than because they were evil. “Most women,” Mrs. Waverley had said, waving a rolling pin to emphasize her point, “are not, like aristocrats, protected by any marriage settlements. If they are divorced, or if the husband drinks himself to death, they must look about for a way to stop themselves from starving. And what else is there but prostitution? And look at all the jobs held by men that should be performed by women—men-milliners, men-mantuamakers, and men-stay makers to mention just a few. Have you read A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, by Mary Wollstonecraft, my lord?” To Lady Artemis’s amazement, the earl had replied, “yes,” and had gone on to argue that somehow Mrs. Wollstonecraft had, in his opinion, failed to define emancipation or set out the rights women should share.

  During the following discussion, names like Mrs. Barbauld, Maria Edgeworth, Catherine Macaulay, and Elizabeth Carter had been thrown about. Lady Artemis felt sadly ignorant. She now tried to tell herself that it was not very feminine to argue so much with gentlemen, but the earl had seemed to enjoy it all.

  She was still preoccupied with her thoughts when she reached Lord Tomley’s, where a ball was being held. So preoccupied was she that she failed to remember that the Tomleys were old-fashioned and kept old-fashioned rules of etiquette. There were no dance cards. Any lady who refused to dance with a gentleman must refuse to dance with all. And so when Lady Artemis looked up and found herself being requested to grant the honor of the first dance to that inferna
l bore, Colonel Pargeter, she said, “I am afraid I cannot dance, sir. I am a trifle faint.”

  The colonel bristled with anger and stalked away. “But you love dancing,” exclaimed Miss Follity-Benson, who was sitting next to Lady Artemis. “What are you going to do? You know you cannot dance with anyone else.”

  Lady Artemis bit her lip in vexation. She had forgotten the rules. “It is not fair,” she said hotly. “Why should we ladies not be allowed to refuse to dance with men we dislike? Colonel Pargeter squeezes my hand and ogles me dreadfully, and his breath smells like the Serpentine on a hot day with a dead cat floating in it.”

  “Well, it does seem hard,” said Miss Follity-Benson, round-eyed, “but you see, I cannot be so nice in my tastes, for I am very lucky to have any partners at all!”

  “Think on it,” went on Lady Artemis, pursuing her theme, “Look at the way they strut up and down, eyeing us as if we were cattle up for auction at Smithfield. We should have the same rights.”

  “We’re all at the Season because we need to get married,” said the ever-practical Miss Follity-Benson.

  “Not all,” said Lady Artemis. “You are rich and I am rich and what on earth are we about to sit here meekly waiting to hand our fortunes over to some lout? I tell you, my views have changed since I met Mrs. Waverley. She is the mother of that female who was taken up in the balloon. She has been educating me in mathematics and already my household expenses have been cut in half. The tricks servants play! I find knowledge exhilarating. Let me tell you what I have been doing this day.”

  The dance had commenced. Several of the wallflowers drew their chairs around Lady Artemis and listened in amazement as she talked of scrubbing the kitchen. They had more reason to fear the rule of men than Lady Artemis, for they were plain and often ignored at balls, but had never considered anything odd in meekly waiting for a suitor.

  Dances ended and dances began and still Lady Artemis talked and talked to her growing court.

  Then at one point she looked up and found Mr. Fordyce hovering at the edge of the circle. “Mr. Fordyce,” cried Lady Artemis. “Is Tredair with you?”

  “No, my lady,” said Mr. Fordyce. “But I hope you will do me the honor of dancing with me.”

  Lady Artemis smiled, rose, and shook out her skirts. “I should be delighted,” she said.

  “The Tomleys will be furious,” hissed Miss Follity-Benson. “You will not be asked again!”

  “Pooh!” said Lady Artemis over her shoulder and then she walked onto the floor with Mr. Fordyce.

  ***

  That evening Mrs. Waverley summoned Fanny to her room. She had noticed the new closeness among the three girls, a closeness from which she felt excluded.

  “Sit down, Fanny,” she said. “I have something to say to you.”

  Mrs. Waverley surveyed Fanny with pride. The girl really was extraordinarily beautiful with her silver fair hair and deep blue eyes.

  “Fanny,” began Mrs. Waverley, “I have a confession to make.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Waverley?”

  “I am not much given to demonstrations of affection, but I would have you know, that of my three charges, I love you the most.”

  Fanny squirmed in her chair. She felt she had grown up very recently. Only a short time ago her heart would have been warmed by such a statement. Now she felt she knew the reason. Mrs. Waverley was trying to break up their new friendship so as to tie the girls closer to her. She would no doubt summon the other two to tell them the same thing.

  “Thank you,” she said, lowering her eyes so that Mrs. Waverley should not see the distrust in them.

  “You are happy here with me, are you not?” asked Mrs. Waverley. Fanny looked up. Mrs. Waverley was in her undress. She was wearing a voluminous nightgown, a negligee, and a large muslin cap. She had large pale eyes and a curved nose set in fleshy cheeks and a small mouth. She looked a plump and secure matron. But there was a certain pleading look in her eyes that made Fanny say quickly, “Of course I am happy, and I am always grateful to you for taking me out of that orphanage. Are you sure, dear Mrs. Waverley, that no one knows the identity of my parents?”

  Mrs. Waverley shook her head, “As I told you, Fanny, you were a foundling.”

  Fanny wrinkled her brow. “But, you know, I have been thinking, ma’am, that the Pevensey Orphanage only houses young ladies, and although the treatment was harsh, we were at least fed, which, I believe, is more than can be said for most orphanages. Someone must have paid to put me there.”

  “That would seem to be the case,” said Mrs. Waverley, “and yet they assured me that the three of you were charity cases. They occasionally swell their ranks by allowing in unfortunates of doubtful birth.”

  Fanny flushed miserably.

  “Which brings me to Lord Tredair. He is rich and titled and can marry anyone he likes. But a gentleman such as he never stoops so low to marry such as you. I believe him to be mildly interested in you. Pray do not encourage that interest, Fanny, for it means he will offer you a position as his mistress. You would be happy for a while and then he would tire of you, as they all tire sooner or later, and you would be passed on to one of his friends and so it would go on. I have brought you up to be independent of men. Your sad circumstances do not allow you to marry. I am here to protect you from that harsh world of men. Better a celibate spinster life with me than to be the mistress of some man.

  “Now, he asked me this afternoon for permission to take you driving in the Park tomorrow. I refused. He taxed me with eccentricity and said that I was bringing you up, not to share the rights of men, but to be afraid of them. In a moment of weakness I gave my permission.” Fanny brightened.

  “But you must promise me that you will do or say nothing to attach his affections—affections which will subsequently destroy you.”

  “I promise,” said Fanny, who would have promised anything in order to be allowed to drive in the Park at the fashionable hour.

  “Thank you,” said Mrs. Waverley. “Always remember you are the one most dear to my heart, Fanny.”

  Fanny rose to go.

  She looked down curiously at Mrs. Waverley. “Were you not happy in your marriage, ma’am?”

  Mrs. Waverley’s face took on a closed and shuttered look. “I never talk about it or think about it,” she said firmly.

  Fanny left and went to her own room. Soon, she could hear Mrs. Ricketts scratching at the door of Frederica’s room and her voice telling Frederica that the mistress wanted to see her.

  “No doubt she is telling Frederica that she is the most loved,” thought Fanny cynically. “Then she will tell the same thing to Felicity in the hope of making us all jealous of each other again.”

  After some time Fanny heard Frederica return and then Mrs. Ricketts summoning Felicity.

  Fanny waited again until she heard Felicity come back and then she went to Frederica’s room and took her over to Felicity’s.

  “Did she tell you she loved you more than the rest?” demanded Fanny.

  Frederica and Felicity looked at her in amazement and both said, “yes” in unison.

  “Don’t you see,” cried Fanny, “she is trying to set us against each other.”

  “Then we shall all go to her room together and tell her we are wise to her,” said Frederica.

  “No,” said Fanny. “That would not answer. We are sorely dependent on her continuing affection.” Only such a short time ago they had been warring schoolgirls. Now three young ladies sat and looked at each other in consternation.

  “She has given Lord Tredair permission to take me for a drive in the park tomorrow,” said Fanny. “But she told me that I must not encourage him in any way.”

  “And neither you should!” said Frederica. “We are unmarriageable and must stick together.”

  “As to the unmarriageable bit,” said Fanny thoughtfully, “I pointed out to her that someone surely must have been paying to keep me at that orphanage, but she told me we were all charity cases. Now, my dears, just t
hink of that board of governors—the chairman, Mr. Wilks, then the director Mrs. Goern, and then the others. Can you imagine one of them finding one spark of charity in their flinty hearts? We were fed, yes, but such food! And do you remember on the days when some of the other girls had relatives on a visit, how the food became almost lavish? I am sure the board was taking the money and feeding us slops and pocketing the difference. Such as they would not take on orphans without relatives to pay.”

  “I often wonder,” said Felicity sadly, “who our parents were. But I had come to believe they were disgraceful and probably not even married, so I considered it best not to inquire too closely.”

  Fanny lay back on Felicity’s bed and clasped her hands behind her head. “I would like to go back to the orphanage and ask a few questions,” she said dreamily.

  “But we cannot,” exclaimed Felicity. “It is at least an hour’s drive and any one of us staying away that long—say we could even find a hack to take us that far—would be missed. An hour there, say half an hour at the orphanage, an hour back—too long.”

  “I am going to do it somehow,” said Fanny. “In the meantime I suggest we continue to play Mrs. Waverley’s game. An occasional quarrel will keep her happy.”

  A tear rolled down Frederica’s cheek. “It does seem hard,” she said in a stifled voice, “to be in London at the Season and to see young misses going out to balls and parties night after night while we stay in here. We are finely dressed and have magnificent jewels, but we are tied to Mrs. Waverley. I feel like a Chinese prostitute!”

  “Whatever do you know about Chinese prostitutes?” asked Fanny, trying not to laugh.

  “I read a most interesting book,” said Frederica. “But now that we have agreed not to steal anymore money, I don’t see how I can buy anymore books.”

  She began to cry in earnest while the other two, new to demonstrations of affection, awkwardly patted her on the back.

  ***

  Fanny was never to know how near Mrs. Waverley came to canceling that drive. But Mrs. Waverley had just made up her mind to tell Fanny to stay in her room while she got rid of the earl, when Lady Artemis arrived on the doorstep with six young misses, all demanding a training in the “masculine arts”—by which they meant mathematics and science.