“I am actually hungry this morning,” the Earl remarked as he helped himself to veal chops cooked with fresh mushrooms.
“That is a good sign,” Giselda smiled.
“But not as hungry as I shall be when I return home,” he went on. “There I always ride before breakfast and come in ready to do justice to the many dishes waiting for me.”
“You have fine horses at Lynd Park, my Lord?”.
“Very fine,” the Earl replied, “but I intend to buy a great many more. My father was not interested in racing, which I am, and as soon as I am well enough I intend to ride in the local steeplechases.”
There was an enthusiasm in the Earl’s voice that was almost boyish and Giselda felt a pain in her heart as she realised that while he was planning all these things in the future she would not be there.
She wondered if, when he was riding across his Park and over his big estate, he would ever think of her and she knew with a sudden sense of inevitability that she would never be able to forget him even for a moment.
He seemed to be ever in her thoughts and in her mind, part of her consciousness from which she could never be free and, as she envisaged a future without him, she knew suddenly and unmistakably that she loved him.
She had not realised before that what she felt for him was love, in fact until he was up and dressed she had not really thought of him as a man.
But now it was impossible to think of him in any other way and she knew that he filled her whole life.
‘How strange to realise at breakfast, of all times, that one is in love,’ she thought to herself.
But she knew that the love that lived in her heart had been there for a long time.
It was simply that she had been afraid to acknowledge it.
‘Whatever happens,’ she told herself, ‘he must never know – never have the least idea that I feel like this.’
Because perhaps she was in some ways the actress the Colonel thought her to be, she managed to enquire in quite a normal voice,
“What plans have you for today, my Lord?”
“I have not really decided,” the Earl replied.
As he spoke, a footman came into the room with a letter on a silver salver.
The man walked towards the table and the Earl waited, obviously expecting the letter to be for him, but instead the footman offered it to Giselda.
“A billet-doux?” the Earl enquired, raising his eyebrows.
Giselda took the note from the salver.
“May I open this?” she enquired politely.
“Please do. I assure you that I am extremely curious!”
Giselda opened the envelope.
It was from Julius.
His writing was large, his capitals somewhat flamboyant and she thought both characteristics were typical of his personality.
She read –
“You promised to dine with me one evening and I am therefore planning a dinner, which I think you will appreciate for tonight.
You can give me your answer when I take you to the Pump this morning, but it is always so difficult to speak when there are so many people around us. I want to tell you that I am looking forward more than I can ever say as I have something particular to ask you, which I can only do when we are undisturbed.
Please do not disappoint your most humble and respectful admirer,
Julius Lynd. ”
After reading the note, Giselda passed it without comment to the Earl.
He read it and said briefly,
“Your answer is yes!”
“Do I – have to – go?”
Even as she spoke, she thought what a foolish question it was.
She had been employed to inveigle Julius into making her an offer of marriage and that, she was quite certain, was what he intended to do tonight.
“Accept,” the Earl ordered.
Obediently Giselda turned to the servant,
“Ask the messenger to tell Mr. Lynd that I shall be very pleased to accept his invitation.”
The footman bowed and left the room and the Earl and Giselda sat silently.
The Earl helped himself to another dish and, when he had done so, he said to the remaining servants,
“I will ring when we want anything else.”
The servants left the breakfast room and Giselda waited.
“As you must be well aware, Giselda,” the Earl said after a moment, “that, when we began this masquerade, the reason for it was twofold, first to deter Julius from marrying Miss Clutterbuck, the second to make him feel a fool and to teach him not to run after rich women.”
“Do you really think that because we – humiliate him when he asks me to marry him, it will prevent him from trying to find – another rich wife in the future?” Giselda asked, sounding uncertain.
“Perhaps not,” the Earl reflected, “at the same time no man likes to look an idiot and Julius, when he discovers that you are absolutely penniless, will realise what a turnip-top he has made of himself.”
“And you expect me to tell him?”
“No, of course not. If he proposes to you tonight, which he undoubtedly will, I suggest you say that he should discuss it with me or alternatively, if you prefer, with the Colonel. After all, he is supposed to be your relative.”
“No – not the Colonel!” Giselda exclaimed sharply.
“Why did you say it like that?” the Earl asked.
“I do not – wish the Colonel to be concerned in my – private affairs.”
The Earl looked at her searchingly, as if he was not certain that this was the correct explanation before replying,
“Very well, I will speak to Julius. You can make the excuse that you could not marry him unless I gave my permission. He will come to me and I will tell him exactly what I think of him.”
There was a note of satisfaction in the Earl’s voice and after a moment Giselda said hesitatingly,
“I – know Julius has behaved – badly – I know he has taken far too much money from you. Equally I am sure it does you as much – harm as it does him to be – vindictive.”
“Vindictive?” the Earl exclaimed. “Is that what you think I am being?”
“N – no – not exactly. It is just that you are so – strong in every way, and you have so – much.”
“Julius had a great deal too,” the Earl replied. “I assure you I am not grinding down the face of the poor. Julius had a large fortune, which unfortunately he inherited when he was twenty-one on his father’s death.”
He paused before he went on,
“He threw it all away in the space of two years, then spent practically everything his mother owned. Do you call that particularly creditable?”
“No – you are right – it is just that I cannot help feeling – sorry for anyone who is poor.”
The Earl’s face softened.
“I can understand that, Giselda, it is what I would expect you to feel, but do not waste your sympathy on Julius. If you were as wealthy as he thinks you are, he would run through your fortune in a few years and then not hesitate to abandon you while he chased after other women.”
“I wonder if anyone is really all bad?”
“Or all good,” the Earl said cynically, “with the exception, perhaps, of yourself.”
Giselda smiled.
“I wish that was true. I am not good. I often hate people very bitterly.”
“The Duke of Wellington, for instance?”
He saw Giselda’s eyes widen and he realised that, on drawing his bow, he had hit the bulls-eye.
“You do hate him?” he asked slowly. “Is it quite useless for me to ask the reason?”
“Quite – useless.”
“Well, let me tell you one thing. I intend to discover your secrets however cleverly you may hide them and one day, because I am very persistent, I shall succeed, however much you may try to stop me.”
Giselda did not answer. She just looked at him and the Earl saw an expression in her eyes that he could not explain.
It was not only fear, there was something else and while he was still wondering what it could be, the door opened and Colonel Berkeley came into the doom.
“Good morning, Giselda – good morning, Talbot!” he said. “It is delightful to see you up and actually downstairs for breakfast!”
“It is something I am enjoying,” the Earl replied. “You are an early caller, Fitz.”
“I have a great deal to do today,” he answered, “and I have come to ask you to be my guest this evening.”
“Where?” the Earl enquired.
“At the play I am putting on for the Duc d’Orléans. I expect you know that he is in Cheltenham and he has especially asked to see this new production I was telling you about.”
“The Villain Unmasked?” the Earl remarked with a smile.
“So you remembered!” the Colonel exclaimed with pleasure.
He pulled up a chair to the table and, as if anticipating his wish, a servant set a large cup in front of him and filled it with coffee.
“It is going to be an entertaining evening with a very distinguished audience,” the Colonel enthused, as he picked up the cup, “and I really think it will amuse you, Talbot. Besides Maria Foote is playing the lead and I want you to see her.”
As the Earl did not reply, the Colonel turned to Giselda.
“He is well enough to enjoy an evening out, is he not, nurse?” he enquired.
He spoke jokingly, but there was an expression in his eyes that made Giselda feel embarrassed and she looked only at the Earl as she replied,
“Mr. Newell is very pleased with his Lordship.”
“Then you must rest this afternoon, Talbot, and come to the theatre at eight o’clock. Afterwards, if you don’t feel too tired, you must have supper with Maria and me. We will not keep you up late and by the way I have already asked Henry Somercote to accompany you.”
“You leave me little alternative but to accept,” the Earl said slowly.
“I want you to see me in this new part,” the Colonel replied. “Although I say it myself, I am extremely good in it!”
He drank some of his coffee and then, as if he had suddenly thought of it, he suggested,
“Another night you must bring Giselda to see me, but not tonight. As you will not wish to climb the stairs, I am putting you in the stage box. It holds three people, but I have to occupy one seat during the course of the play.”
“Why is that?” the Earl enquired.
“Because, as the nobleman who seduces the innocent maiden, I persuade her to take part in the stage in defiance of her father’s wishes who is a Clergyman.”
He laughed.
“It is really rather amusing. The Clergyman spends the First Act declaiming against bloodshed of any sort and in preaching that all Christians must turn the other cheek however much they are insulted. Then at the end of Act Two, to avenge the seduction of his daughter, he shoots the nobleman who was responsible while he sits in the stage box of the theatre!”
“It all sounds very ingenious to me,” the Earl remarked with just a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “Are you responsible for such ‘blood and thunder’?”
“It was principally written by a young protégé of mine,” the Colonel replied, “but I must admit to having added several twists to the plot that he had not originally considered!”
The Earl laughed.
“The trouble with you, Fitz, is that you will do everything yourself. You want to be the author, the producer, the stage manager, the principal actor, and I am only surprised you don’t also conduct the orchestra!”
“My dear Talbot,” the Colonel answered, “I have learnt in life that, if one wants a thing doing well, one has to do it oneself. Anyway, tonight you will see what I can do. The theatre is packed! Every seat is sold out, so please do not leave the stage box empty. It would stand out like a missing tooth.”
“As my host and since I am extremely grateful to you for bringing me to Cheltenham,” the Earl said, “you make it impossible for me to say anything but thank you.”
“A very pretty speech,” the Colonel said mockingly, “and now, I will leave you and your very attractive nurse to finish your breakfast.”
He rose to his feet.
Then looking at Giselda, he said,
“I am anticipating that one day Giselda will play a part in one of my productions and when that happens you must certainly be in the stage box.”
The Earl looked at him in astonishment, but, before he could say anything, the Colonel had left the room and they heard his voice speaking loudly to one of the servants in the passage outside.
“What the devil did he mean by that?” the Earl enquired.
Giselda looked embarrassed.
“The other night – at the opening of the Assembly Rooms – he suggested that as I had – acted this part so – well, I might like to act for him in the future.”
It was difficult to say the words, especially when she realised that the Earl was looking at her searchingly.
“He said that to you?” he ejaculated. “Why did you not tell me?”
“I-I did not think the Colonel was – serious.”
The Earl’s lips tightened.
“He is usually serious when it concerns his plays and what you are really telling me is that he offered you employment when you should leave mine.”
“Y-yes.”
“Had you any idea that he might have other reasons for asking you to do this?”
There was silence and the Earl fancied that for a moment Giselda did not understand what he meant.
Then the colour rose in her cheeks.
She looked away from him out into the garden.
“You suspected it at any rate,” the Earl said dryly.
“I could not – credit that was – what he meant,” she murmured.
“He will have meant it all right! Let me put this bluntly, Giselda, unless you think it desirable to become one of the Colonel’s many mistresses, I should not listen to such a proposition.”
“No – of course not – I had no intention of doing so!”
“Then why did you not tell me about it?”
There was silence and after a moment the Earl persisted,
“I would like you to answer that question.”
“I thought – you might be – annoyed,” Giselda faltered. “He is – your friend and you are staying in his house.”
“You were thinking of me?”
“Yes – I did not want you – upset or angry – when you were getting so much better in health.”
“Let me make one thing clear, Giselda. You are at the moment in my employment and there is no question of it coming to an end until the problem over Julius is finally and completely settled.”
Giselda did not answer and after a moment he added,
“You had better get ready if you are going to the Pump Room with him. We will discuss your future at a later date.”
“Yes – my Lord – and thank you.”
She rose from the table and, as if she wished to escape from the embarrassing situation, she went hurriedly from the room.
The Earl threw his table napkin down angrily on the table as if the mere action gave him some relief from the feelings inside him. Then he walked out into the garden, moving slowly over the green lawn.
There was the usual crowd at the Pump Room and there had been so many people walking along the tree lined walk towards it that Giselda realised with a sense of relief that it was impossible for Julius to say anything intimate.
She had felt ever since breakfast as if her breathing was constricted and there was something hard and uncomfortable within her breasts.
She could not bear to think that the Earl should imagine for one moment that she had seriously considered the Colonel’s invitation.
Yet it had been impossible to tell him so or to put into words how shocked and indeed disgusted she had been by his suggestions.
All she could think of now was that the Earl was ang
ry with her and she felt encompassed by a fog rather than the sunshine.
Every word that she had to say to Julius was an effort because it brought her thoughts away from the Earl and then back to him.
*
The Montpellier Pump Room was not impressive. It was a long unpretentious building with wooden pillars, a veranda and a small structure over the centre for an orchestra.
This was filled with a number of players who provided soft music while the drinkers approached the Pump and having received their glasses of water stood about gossiping while they drank it.
Julius fetched Giselda a glass and, as he gave it into her hand, he said in a low voice,
“You look so lovely, Mrs. Barrowfield, that no one would believe for a moment that you needed medicinal waters.”
Because she felt shy at the note in his voice, Giselda said quickly,
“It seems strange to think that all these people should be here just because of some pigeons.”
“Pigeons?” Julius enquired in surprise.
“Have you not heard the legend?” Giselda asked. “The properties of the well were discovered about a hundred years ago when it was noticed that the pigeons flocked to peck at the deposits of salt here.”
Julius did not look particularly interested, but because Giselda wished to keep talking she added,
“It was found that the water was rich in natural salts and the people of Cheltenham, realising, that other Spas like Bath and Tonbridge were flourishing, saw to it that rumours of their waters were soon spread.”
“It has certainly brought the town a great deal of money,” Julius remarked.
His tone was envious and Giselda thought with a little sigh that it was difficult for him to think of anything else but his financial burdens.
Because she was afraid that he might become intimate, she looked around and, seeing a distinguished looking man with a small imperial beard and a large pointed moustache, she asked
“Is that the Duc d’Orléans?”
Julius looked in the direction of her eyes and nodded.
“Yes, it is.”
“I heard he was here. He is going to the theatre tonight to see the Colonel’s play.”
“How do you know that?” Julius enquired.
The Mysterious Maid-Servant Page 11