The Bath Trilogy

by Amanda Scott

  Unlike his fellow, Brentford took no care to lower his voice. He said, “Some ladies are more dashing than others, I daresay. ’Tis nothing to me.”

  “Oh, but surely you prefer the company of a woman who is decorative rather than outrageous, sir, one who submits to a man rather than one who makes her name with her whip.”

  “Depends what she does to outrage.” He grinned at her. “I can think of things that I’d like very much for her to do. A woman with a whip can be dashed exciting, you know.”

  The other diners had grown ominously silent, and Sybilla dared not look up from her plate for fear she would do something as outrageous as anyone could wish. As it was, she had all she could do not to fling her gold dinner plate at Lady Mandeville’s flaxen head, and her teeth grated so hard against one another that she thought it a wonder everyone did not hear them. Her breathing came faster and faster until she felt light-headed.

  It was Mally who broke the silence with a sudden loud burst of laughter, drawing everyone’s attention to herself. Looking around with astonishment, she said, “Oh, forgive me, but his highness has just told me the most diverting story and I couldn’t help laughing. Do go on with your own conversations and pay no heed to me.” And she turned pointedly back to the prince.

  Sybilla, having turned toward her just as everyone else had, found herself wondering how on earth her sister had got a seat at the Prince of Wales’s right hand. But remembering where they were and that although Prinny, as guest of honor, had escorted his hostess in, he enjoyed a pretty face almost as much as he loved food or gossip, she decided that he, too, must have learned about the abortive elopement and wanted to hear the details from one of the participants.

  She was able to breathe again, and either Mally’s interruption or the reminder that royalty was present had silenced the Mandeville for the moment. At least there were no more audible comments from that portion of the table. Sybilla’s appetite had fled, however, and she did less than justice to the wonderful meal that was set before her. In honor of the prince, there were twenty-three entrées, so the hour was advanced when the ladies, in response to a signal from Lady Katharine, arose to leave the gentlemen with the port.

  Ramsbury, getting to his feet with the rest of the men, looked sharply at Sybilla and said quietly, “How are you feeling? You look worn to the bone.”

  “I am a little tired,” she said, hoping he would accept her at her word and not press more closely. Her temper had cooled but was still perilously near its boiling point.

  He grimaced. “We won’t linger long, I daresay. Though the duke likes his wine, he likes the ladies more, and Lady Katharine is not so meek that she would not have a thing or two to say if he kept all the gentlemen to himself.”

  Reluctantly, Sybilla went with the others. Mally caught up with her as they neared the great saloon and muttered angrily, “I should like to use that woman as bull bait!”

  “If you love me, don’t speak of her,” Sybilla replied. “I only hope I may get through the rest of the evening without committing murder.”

  “Well, she has made a great mistake, if you ask me, for no gentleman likes hearing his mistress deride his wife, not even privately, and that was hardly private. She would have done better to keep her mouth shut.”

  “Do you know, I begin to wonder if she ever was his mistress,” Sybilla said. “Surely, Ned would never have been attracted to such a piece.”

  “Well, don’t delude yourself, my dear. She had him wrapped round her little finger for those three months at least.”

  “Well, certainly you must have known it if he had ever tried to send her to the right about,” Sybilla said.

  “Well, but I was taken up with my own affairs, of course,” Mally said, surprising her, “and she is older than I am and goes with a different set of people for the most part. And I generally took care to stay out of Ned’s way, you know, in case he took it upon himself to look into my activities. He can be rather formidable, if you haven’t noticed.”

  Sybilla smiled, but there was time to say no more, for they had entered the great saloon and Lady Katharine greeted their arrival with enthusiasm.

  “There you are! I was just saying that we ought to have some music, and there you are, Sybilla. Your skill at the pianoforte must always entertain.”

  Before Sybilla could think of an excuse, Mally said firmly, “My sister has been ill, Lady Katharine, but I will gladly play for you.” There was a moment or two of bustle before Mally was seated at the pianoforte, which was in the corner opposite the door of the state bedchamber, but then she began to play and to sing a familiar ballad. The company grew silent to listen.

  She sang several more songs before giving her place to another young woman noted for her skill at the keyboard. The guests were not as mesmerized by the second performance, however, and a murmur of conversation arose to accompany the music.

  Sybilla, thinking she would rejoin her sister, left her place and moved to skirt the others in such a way that she would not be detained along the way, but as she passed by one small group, she heard the unmistakable tones of the Mandeville, assuring someone that she had had it on the best authority—and the lady might deduce what she liked from those words—that “she” had never been ill at all but had merely suffered a crisis of nerves when her husband lost his temper.

  “Why do you think Lady Symonds—surely no paragon herself—would make such an effort to protect her from the tale,” she added with an air of wisdom, “if it was not that she knew it would stir Ned’s temper again?”

  Without thinking, Sybilla pushed past the person between them and said through her teeth, “I should like a word with you, Fanny. At once!”

  Lady Mandeville didn’t blink an eye but said coolly, “Oh, my dear Sybilla, we cannot speak privately at such an affair as this. It would be too much remarked upon.”

  “You come with me into that room, or I shall say what I have to say to you right here, madam, and damn the consequences.” Ignoring the gasps from those standing nearest, Sybilla grabbed Lady Mandeville by the arm and fairly thrust her ahead toward the door to the state apartments. Inside, she released her captive and kicked the door shut behind her. “Now, I think we will talk plainly,” she said. “You choose to pretend that you have got some sort of relationship with my husband, but I know and you know that that is no longer true, and I will thank you to stop pretending that it is.”

  “Will you, indeed?” Lady Mandeville laughed. “Oh, how naive you are, my dear. I suppose that Ned had to do no more than say he was innocent for you to believe him.”

  “Oh, no, it took a great deal more than that, I’m afraid. I was such a nodcock that I didn’t believe him at all, but I know now that he was speaking the truth all along. You are the sort of cat that ought to have been drowned at birth, Fanny, and if you do not shield your claws henceforth, I’ll do what I can to rectify that distressing omission.”

  “You would drown me?”

  “I would certainly do something. You surely know that I don’t count the cost when I lose my temper.”

  “Oh, I am terrified,” Fanny said, simpering. “But you are not always very smart, are you, Sybilla? Indeed, you are only too easy to dupe. You do not even know how easy it was.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about, but changing the subject will do you no good, Fanny. You will cease to behave as though you are Ned’s mistress or I will see that you rue the day you took me on as an adversary.”

  But even as she said the words, her mind was racing, and an idea took shape there that startled her with its clarity. Before she could voice her thoughts, however, she realized that Fanny was angry at last.

  “You think you’re so smart,” she snapped, “but you don’t deserve him, and he doesn’t care the snap of his fingers for you! You were stupid enough to treat him like a person of no account, flaunting your conquests and leaving him to his own devices. And when you lost him, instead of staying to fight for him, you left. And if I did what wa
s necessary after that to keep his anger alive, it will do you no good to cry about it now, for I have won. He can only be disgusted by what he thinks of you, so—”

  Sybilla stared at her in amazement. “You!”

  “Sybilla!” Ramsbury snapped from the doorway. “I have looked everywhere for you. Come along now, we are leaving.”

  She had not heard him come in, but she was glad to see him. “Ned, she—”

  “No, do not argue with me,” he said, cutting in swiftly. “You must think of your health. Or if you will not, I must do so for you.” He smiled at Fanny. “You, I know, will understand how it is. She has been ill, but she will not look after herself properly, so I must take her home and put her to bed.”

  “Certainly, Ned,” Fanny said with an understanding smile, “and then perhaps you will join me later in Curzon Street, where Lady Rosecourt is having another of her famous card parties. I am very sure you received an invitation.”

  “I certainly did,” Ramsbury replied, returning her smile, and then he infuriated his wife all the more by adding, “and I look forward to seeing you there.”

  XIII

  RAMSBURY GAVE SYBILLA NO chance to speak. Indeed, he barely gave her time to bid their host and hostess and their royal guest good night before he hustled her down the stairs and out the door. Their carriage was waiting.

  “How did you manage this?” she demanded as soon as the coachman had given his horses the office to start. “And how did you get us out of there before Prinny left? ’Tis the height of bad manners, Ned.”

  “I sent a footman to have the carriage brought round, and I begged his highness’s leave to take my wife home early because of her recent illness. He was all consideration, I assure you.”

  “No doubt, but you cannot play cards tonight. I know you must have been angry to find me with her like that, but she made me furious. Oh, Ned, she is the one!”

  “Who, Fanny? Yes, certainly, I know she is.”

  “You know it was she who duped your mother, and you can casually agree to meet her later to play cards! I could … oh, I could just—”

  “I don’t think I want to hear what you could do,” he said with a dry chuckle. “Calm down, Syb. I told her I would meet her merely to lay to rest any thought she might have had that I overheard enough of what she said to draw the same conclusions you obviously did. That doesn’t mean I have to go. Not but what it might not be an excellent thing to do,” he added musingly.

  “You may think so—I do not. I was just about to tell her precisely what I thought of her when you walked in, and if you think for one moment that I am going to allow her to get away with what she has done, you are wrong, sir. I mean to bring that woman to book, and quickly.”

  “You need do nothing,” he said grimly. “I shall attend to her ladyship, I promise you. I began to suspect her as soon as I realized that you and Brandon were innocent, but I said nothing for the simple reason that after her name had been so often linked with mine, to tell you that she might be the one who’d started all this was particularly difficult. I knew you would make a great piece of work out of nothing.”

  “It was not nothing, Ned, and there is no ‘might be’ about it, now that I know she is guilty.”

  “You know, and now I know, but there is not a scrap of proof. Until she spoke out of turn, you had only been able to come up with your brother as a suspect, though he has not been in London until now that I know about, so it was clear that he could not have been the primary offender.”

  “I did not think about that,” she cried with relief. “Of course, the culprit had to be someone who is frequently in town!”

  “Good God, don’t tell me you still harbored any thought of Brandon’s guilt?”

  She flushed. “Once the notion entered my mind, it was particularly difficult to banish it. But the letters did come from London, as you say, and Brandon was at school for at least a good portion of the term.”

  “At least,” he agreed, giving her a mocking look, “and Fanny lives here most of the year, just as your sister does, and is thus in an excellent position to know where you are. Indeed, since Mama didn’t quibble the first time over sending money to you at a hotel, I daresay Fanny, believing Mama would never come to London, didn’t care whether you were in town or not.”

  “Your mother said the person had effrontery,” Sybilla said.

  “Fanny does, indeed. She took a great chance from the outset, but I’ll wager she only meant to do so the one time, and for no purpose other than to make more trouble between us. Then, discovering how easily the scheme worked, she did it again and again. Even this little setback will very likely not stop her. At least, I hope it will not, or we will never catch her out.”

  “Wait, Ned, the man Mr. Grimthorpe saw—”

  “Not a man, but Fanny herself, I’ll wager, though I doubt he would believe it without seeing her dressed as she was then, and we cannot expect her to agree to do that. Slim, blond, and green eyes, you said. She fits the description even better than your brother does. You continually deride her lack of a womanly shape, though I can vouch—” He broke off, clearly deciding the rest was better left unsaid.

  Sybilla gave him a narrow look. “You had better leave Fanny to me, I think.”

  “Well, I won’t,” he declared. “You do not have the least notion of how to go about such a thing.”

  “And you do, I suppose. I must tell you, sir, that I have no great opinion of your ability to deal with a woman who has consistently demonstrated her ability to wrap you round her skinny thumb.”

  “She can do no such thing,” he retorted. “For once, you will just have to trust me when I tell you that.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Perhaps,” he said evenly, “because you want to set things right between us as much as I do.”

  She was doubtful. “Do you, Ned? You never really wanted—”

  “Will you forget about that foolishness, Syb? I did want to marry you. If I behaved otherwise after my father took a hand, it was because I was sick to death of having him always trying to control things. Then, I married you and you wanted to do the same. I was raised to think I would hold a position of power, but until now about the only thing I’ve ever controlled was a good horse. Whenever I tried to assert myself with my father, he would say there was plenty of time for all that. When I’d try with you, you’d fly into the boughs and insist your family was more important.”

  She stared at him in dismay. “Oh, Ned, they had always needed me, and I thought you didn’t!”

  “I know, and you still think they need you. I’m surprised you would consider remaining in London even to deal with Fanny, now that your father’s housekeeper has warned you that everything in Royal Crescent is at sixes and sevens, as you say she has.”

  Reminded of her duties at home, Sybilla fell silent. She knew she would have to leave soon, much as she hated to go. It seemed very hard that just as she and Ned were beginning to understand each other a little better, she must leave. She had thought for so long that there was not the least chance they might be happy together, and she still had many doubts about that. She understood better why it was that he had constantly tried to dominate her, but she didn’t think understanding would help, for she had never developed the habit of submission. It frightened her a little now to think he might believe she would be able to change that. Though she was rapidly coming to hope there might be a chance for them, she feared it was a false hope.

  At the moment, she wanted more than anything else to be in on Lady Mandeville’s undoing. She knew that if Ned put his mind to it, as it seemed he intended to do, he could handle Fanny, but she wanted to deal with her herself. She said nothing more until they reached Ramsbury House, but she had been thinking furiously, and when they stepped into the entry hall, she said, “I begin to understand you, Ned, but you won’t keep me out of this, so you needn’t think you will.”

  Glancing at the interested porter, he took her by the arm and drew her into the sm
all parlor off the entry hall. Shutting the door, he said sternly, “We are not going to discuss this matter before the servants, Syb. I know you are angry with Fanny, but I won’t have my wife starting a cat fight for the edification of the entire city of London, and that’s flat.”

  “Well, you needn’t trouble your head about that,” Sybilla said tartly, “for I certainly have to return to Royal Crescent. Perhaps I shall simply invite her ladyship to visit me there.”

  “That’s crazy!”

  She had made the statement impulsively, without thinking, but suddenly she knew it was not a crazy idea. “Listen, Ned, it will work. No matter how clever Fanny thinks she is, she cannot send another letter while both your mother and I remain in London. And even she cannot believe your mother would not know I had gone. If I am known to be in Bath, Fanny will have to send her request from there. I daresay she might leap at a chance to write directly from Royal Crescent, if I can make her believe she is welcome there. An apology is in order, I think,” she added musingly. “If I tell her I wish to make amends for my—”

  “You really think you have to go back?” he interjected, much as though he had heard nothing she had said after that. The look on his face told her that he was keeping his temper on a tight rein, and she realized suddenly that she was glad he was angry.

  She put a hand on his arm. “I must, Ned, but before you say the words you are thinking, let me explain. Once I came to see Brandon more clearly, I saw other things as well. Oh, I know now that he was not guilty of anything horrible, but that doesn’t signify in the least, because if he had been, he would have expected me to do whatever was necessary, or you to do so because you are my husband. He has no notion of taking responsibility for his own actions, never has had. He got by on his quick smile, a twinkling eye, and an engaging manner.”