He had tried to get her to talk about her mother, but she either answered his questions in monosyllables or refused to answer them at all.
He knew that she adored her small brother – but that was all!
Although the Earl might have asked questions of Thomas Newell, he deliberately refrained from doing so. However curious he might be, he still had a respect for Giselda’s reticence, he told himself, and would not spy upon her in an underhand manner.
At the same time he found it more and more frustrating to realise that he was failing in what he felt was a battle of wills between them.
He also resented, although he would hardly dare admit it to himself, the fact that Giselda should do things with Julius, and apparently with Colonel Berkeley also, without his being able to accompany her.
He had disliked the thought of her visiting the Assembly Rooms this evening. But it was impossible for Giselda to refuse Julius’s invitations – in fact it would have have seemed strange for Mrs. Barrowfield not to wish to inspect the centre of all the entertainments in Cheltenham.
The Earl, however, had felt it was one thing for her to visit the Pump Rooms and drink the waters, but quite different to dance at night in the Assembly Rooms.
“I have no wish to go,” Giselda had said.
“You will enjoy it,” Henry Somercote, who was there at the time answered. “Good gracious, you are only young once! Even his Lordship cannot expect you to go on bandaging interminably either his leg or somebody else’s until you are too old to receive any invitations.”
“I cannot think Julius is a particularly desirable partner with whom Giselda should make her debut,” the Earl commented scathingly.
“Needs must when the devil drives!” Henry Somercote said cheerfully. “Giselda need not listen to Julius’s protestations of affection, knowing exactly how much they are worth.”
He called Giselda, by her Christian name just as the Earl did. In fact, Giselda thought of them as two elderly Guardians concerned with her welfare, at the same time forced by circumstances to allow her a licence of behaviour they would not normally have condoned.
She only wished, as she set out in the evening, that she had another escort rather than Julius Lynd.
She had soon realised that everything the Colonel and Henry Somercote had said about him was true and that under a polished superficial veneer he was in fact a very unpleasant young man.
He was too suave, too plausible, and above all, she told herself, when he smiled his eyes did not smile too.
*
Then, after two or three days’ acquaintance, she began to fancy, although she thought she might be mistaken, that Julius’s manner towards her was changing.
He had begun, because he thought her rich, by trying to be very impressive, very beguiling in what she knew was an utterly insincere way.
Yet if she was an actress, he was an even better actor.
As they talked together, visiting the Pump Rooms in the morning, driving during the afternoon in a Phaeton that Julius hired at vast expense, she began to think that he did in fact find her rather attractive.
The compliments he paid her she dismissed, but on the third afternoon as they drove out into the country he began to talk about himself in a manner that he had not done before.
She felt then that perhaps for the first time he was thinking of her as a woman and not as a bank balance. He told her how much he enjoyed London and how exciting it had been to find he could move with the Bucks and Dandies of St James’s and be accepted in all the best Clubs, besides being invited to all the important houses of the Beau Monde.
“Have you ever been to any London parties?” he enquired.
Giselda shook her head.
“You will find them very different from those you have enjoyed in Yorkshire.”
“I am afraid I should be very much a country mouse.”
“That is untrue,” Julius answered. “You would shine like a star and I should be as proud of being your escort there, as I am here.”
There was now a note of sincerity in his voice that made Giselda feel uncomfortable.
Although it was what the Earl and Henry Somercote had expected, she shrank from the moment when Julius Lynd would propose marriage to her and she would refuse him.
She could not help feeling that, however bad a man might be or however discreditable, to make him a laughing stock and humiliate him was cruel.
For the first time since she had undertaken the part the Earl had found for her, she felt ashamed of deceiving Julius.
There was no reason why she should.
She had listened to him boasting and telling her innumerable lies during the first days of their acquaintance. She had known that he was pursuing her entirely for her supposed money, even as he had pursued the unattractive and ageing Miss Clutterbuck.
Equally she still disliked the thought that she must act a lie and perpetrate a falsehood on anyone, however badly they might have behaved.
Yesterday, because she had felt that Julius was growing near to a declaration of his affections, she had changed the subject, admiring the buildings of which Colonel Berkeley was so proud and had insisted on returning earlier than Julius wished her to do.
She realised that it was easy for him to be more intimate in his conversation when they were driving than when they walked down the tree-lined approach to the Pump Room.
There the sheer numbers of ‘water-drinkers’ made privacy impossible, but in a phaeton without a groom up behind, Giselda felt very vulnerable.
Both the Earl and Henry Somercote were waiting for her on her return to German Cottage and, because she felt somewhat guilty at her part in the deception, she answered their questions abruptly and as soon as she could she withdrew to her own bedroom.
“What has upset her?” Henry asked the Earl when they were alone.
“I have no idea.” the Earl replied.
“Can it be possible that she is developing an affection for young Julius?”
“If anything is completely impossible, that is,” the Earl answered sharply. “On one thing I would stake my life, if necessary, that Giselda would not be taken in by that cheap philanderer.”
“I hope you are right, but after all she is very young and, whatever you and I may think of him, Julius is quite a presentable young man.”
The Earl was scowling and after a moment he said,
“If I thought such a thing was even remotely possible I would stop this charade immediately and let Julius marry that Clutterbuck creature, whatever the consequences!”
“I don’t believe you need perturb yourself,” Henry said soothingly, surprised at the storm he had evoked. “Giselda seems to have her head screwed on tight and the one thing she must realise is that even if she grew fond of Julius, there would be no future for her without money and with him practically in the clutches of the bailiffs.”
He had, however, left the Earl in a state of some anxiety and the following day when Giselda told him she was going to the Pump Room as usual with Julius Lynd, he asked searchingly,
“You are not becoming fond of that young reprobate, are you?”
“Fond?” Giselda asked in surprise.
“Henry thought it strange yesterday when you would not tell us what was said during your drive. I suppose he will be taking you out again this afternoon?”
Giselda was silent for a moment.
Then she said,
“I merely felt a little – uncomfortable at having to tell so many lies. I was brought up to think they were wicked and my nurse believed that if you told enough of them you were certain to burn in all the fires of hell!”
The Earl laughed.
“I promise I will come and rescue you or at least bring a cup of cold water! Is that reassuring?”
Giselda did not answer and, as she finished bandaging his leg, he asked her,
“Is that really what is worrying you?”
“How much longer do I have to go on – doing this?” she asked in
a low voice.
“As long as is necessary,” the Earl replied. “But I suppose, even if you save Julius from Miss Clutterbuck, there will be others, although this may have taught him a lesson.”
“I wonder if this sort of lesson is ever enough?” Giselda asked. “It will only make him resentful and hate you more than he does already.”
“He hates me?” the Earl questioned and Giselda realised that she had been indiscreet.
At the same time she thought it must have been obvious to the Earl how much Julius resented the fact that he was beholden to his cousin’s generosity and that he had refused him further monies the last time he had asked for them.
As she did not answer the Earl gave a laugh with no humour in it.
“I suppose I have been a fool in thinking that Julius might be grateful for what he has received from me in the past.”
“Perhaps he too thinks it is ‘more blessed to give than to receive’.”
“Are you quoting my own words against me?” the Earl asked.
“I thought they were rather apt, my Lord.”
He laughed in a very different way.
“You are trying to make me feel guilty,” he said. “Well, quite frankly, you will never succeed in that. Julius has run through one fortune. He has beggared his mother and, if I gave him thousands of pounds today, tomorrow he would be asking for more.”
“Then what is the solution?”
“Quite frankly I don’t know. This is only a manoeuvre to prevent him from taking a very undesirable bride and I cannot see further ahead than the moment when he will offer you his hand and his debts in marriage.”
After giving the Earl everything he needed, she was just about to leave the room to change and put on her bonnet when she turned,
“I forgot to tell you, His Grace the Duke of Wellington will be calling on you at three o’clock the day after tomorrow. His servant left a message, my Lord.”
“The Duke?” the Earl exclaimed. “Then he has arrived?”
“Yes, unexpectedly early,” Giselda answered. “I am sure it will be considered an absolute disaster since the triumphal arches are not in place and I doubt if the address of welcome has actually been written.”
The Earl laughed.
“That will certainly put out the Colonel. He told me he had called several Committee meetings to plan exactly what should take place.”
“The Duke will still open the new Assembly Rooms.”
“They certainly will not let him off that,” the Earl smiled, “and I shall look forward to seeing him. Now you will be able to meet ‘the Immortal Deliverer of Europe’!”
Giselda stiffened and after a moment she said,
“You will excuse me, my Lord, but as I have already told you I have no wish to do so.”
“Are you serious?” the Earl enquired. “I cannot believe that anyone would not wish to meet the Duke. After all, he saved the world from Napoleon.”
“I am not questioning his military achievements,” Giselda replied in a small voice, “but I cannot and – will not meet him – personally.”
“But why? Why?” the Earl cried. “You must have some sensible explanation for such a refusal.”
“I am sorry, but I cannot give you one, my Lord. I want to make it clear that, if you send for me while His Grace is here, I will not come.”
She did not wait to hear the Earl’s answer but merely went from the room shutting the door quietly behind her.
The Earl was silent from sheer astonishment – then swore softly to himself.
He could not imagine why Giselda should refuse to meet the Duke of Wellington, or why, if she had what she thought a good reason, she would not tell him what it was.
The whole thing was completely incomprehensible and the fact that it constituted a problem for which he had no solution made him irritated to the point when he more or less sulked all through luncheon.
If Giselda was aware of the cause of his bad temper, she did not admit it.
Instead she chatted about the people she had seen at the Pump Room that morning and the consternation in the town because the Duke, the Duchess, two sons and a suite of retainers had arrived before the flowers, flags and fireworks were ready.
What Giselda said was confirmed by Henry Somercote, who arrived after she had left the house to drive with Julius and told the Earl what a furore the Duke’s early arrival had caused.
“The Colonel is furious with me,” Henry said. “But it was not my fault. The Old Man told me he was coming on the 20th. How was I to know he would change his mind and come on the 18th?”
“Fitz will get over it,” the Earl said consolingly, “and by the way, it should keep him too busy to interfere in my affairs.”
“How has he done that?” Henry enquired.
“He taught Giselda how to play Écarté last night.”
“Good God! I hope she did not lose!”
“No, she won ten guineas, but it is a mistake for her to gamble when Julius at any rate would expect her to play for high stakes.”
“Of course it is,” Henry agreed. “I cannot think why the Colonel should be so stupid. Usually he throws himself into a part wholeheartedly and never makes a mistake.”
“Well, he has made one now as far as I am concerned,” the Earl said, “and I shall tell him so when I see him.”
“It is unlike him,” Henry said again. “I hear he was brilliant when he acted with Grimaldi, the King of the Clowns. George Byron who was staying at Berkeley Castle at the same time told me about it.”
“Was Fitz really good?” the Earl asked incredulously.
“He was so good that according to Byron he almost stole the applause from Grimaldi.”
“I wonder Grimaldi agreed to perform with an amateur.”
“The Colonel gave him and his son one hundred pounds as remuneration, and Byron said that the whole of Cheltenham turned out to applaud them.”
“I am not surprised. Equally I wish Fitz would leave my play to me and not act the part of benefactor to Giselda.”
“He will be too busy while the Duke is here to do that again,” Henry said soothingly.
Because Giselda felt rather guilty at refusing so bluntly to meet the Duke of Wellington, she ordered a special dinner for the Earl the evening after His Grace was to call at three o’clock.
She discussed it with the chef and chose the dishes his Lordship liked best.
He had taken to leaving the selection of menus to her, although he was extremely critical if her choice did not match his own ideas.
“Every woman should learn how to choose a good meal,” he had said, and Giselda realised that this was one of the many lessons she had learnt since she had come to German Cottage.
She talked to the butler, who advised on the choice of claret the Earl would enjoy most, and then changed into one of the prettiest gowns Madame Vivienne had provided for her.
It was of varying shades of blue, embroidered with diamante and ornamented with bunches of pale pink roses.
The Earl had thought it was rather an unsophisticated style for the character of Mrs. Barrowfield, but, when Giselda had put it on, she looked so entrancing in it that he insisted on buying it, even though she was as doubtful as he was whether it was suitable for a widow.
When Giselda returned from her drive, which she deliberately prolonged, she learnt from the servants that the Duke had left the Earl at six o’clock and his dinner was scheduled for half after seven. She went along the corridor to his bedroom at about twenty minutes past the hour.
She had realised that he was still angry with her, although they had not spoken again of the Duke’s prospective visit.
She only hoped now that His Grace would have swept away the Earl’s resentment and, because they must have enjoyed talking over their experiences, her sins of omission would have been forgotten.
She knocked perfunctorily on the bedroom door and opened it and then stared with astonishment at the empty bed.
She realised
that the Earl had not recently vacated it and a little bewildered, she walked across the room to open the door into the adjacent sitting room.
The Earl occupied the main bedroom in German Cottage and it was part of a suite with a sitting room and another bedroom attached.
Because he had been in bed ever since she had known him, Giselda had hardly ever entered the sitting room. Now she realised it was a very attractive room with large windows looking out onto the garden behind the house and beyond there was a quite magnificent view of the Malvern Hills.
But for the moment she had eyes only for the man standing by the mantelpiece. It was the Earl and for the first time she was seeing him dressed.
“Good evening, Giselda,” he said in his deep voice, as she stood looking at him apparently speechless.
“You are surprised to see me up!” he went on. “But you could hardly expect me to receive my Commanding Officer except in my ‘best bib and tucker’!”
He smiled as he spoke and it drew Giselda towards him as if he was a magnet.
She had not realised that the Earl was so tall and so broad shouldered or that he could look so elegant and so incredibly handsome.
His frilled cravat tied in the very latest and most intricate style was a masterpiece from Batley’s clever fingers and, if after his being ill for so long, his coat did not fit quite as closely as it should, Giselda was not aware of it.
She was only entranced by the pale champagne hue of his pantaloons and by the Earl’s eyes twinkling at her astonishment.
“You must forgive me,” he said, “if I do not change again for dinner. I don’t mind admitting it was quite a struggle for me to parade in all my finery after being hors de combat for so long.”
“It has not been too much for you, my Lord?” Giselda quizzed him in a low voice.
“You are not going to compliment me on my appearance?”
“You look – magnificent, as I am sure you know, but I am worried in case you have done too much too soon.”
“I hoped to surprise you, and I have succeeded. Actually Newell said I could get up as long as I did not stay out of bed for too long.”
The Mysterious Maid-Servant Page 9