Mary Or The Perils 0f Imprudence

by Catherine Bowness

  “And you would probably lose. You see,” she added as he won a round and the pool was shovelled towards him. “If you do not care so desperately about the result you are able to play much better. Games, my grandmama used to say, are to be played; they are not a matter of life and death.”

  Chapter 28

  The first to leave were Lord Marklye and his guests. Mary was afraid that he had been wishing himself elsewhere from the moment he heard that dreadful portion of her conversation with Mr Armitage but had been obliged, for the sake of good manners, to see out the evening with an appearance at least of pleasure.

  He bowed over his hostess’s hand and thanked her for providing such a delightful evening of entertainment.

  “I daresay you will come about,” she responded rather oddly. “You must not, you know, place too much reliance upon what people say in the heat of the moment.”

  “No, indeed, although it is my experience that the truth is often uttered then; when tempers are cooler, it is not so difficult to conceal one’s real feelings behind a glib tongue.”

  “She has a hasty tongue, not a glib one, and I am afraid that it runs away with itself on occasion,” she responded, pressing his fingers. “She was ever imprudent.”

  “It is part of her charm,” he admitted, turning down the corners of his mouth.

  “Yes,” she agreed, “but, after incautiously jumping off a cliff or falling into a river, she can, if she is not rescued, find herself at her wits’ end as to how to get back upon dry land.”

  “I am afraid she has taken me in dislike,” he said sadly. “She made it very plain when we last met that I would be a fool – even perhaps a knave – to continue to hope.”

  “If that is what you thought, you misread her,” the old lady told him sternly.

  “He is very handsome,” he went on, apparently not having heard her for his expression did not lighten, “and closer to her in age than I. I daresay she wishes to redeem him.”

  “I am sure she does not. I think he was importuning her and she could think of no other way of keeping him at arm’s length than to cross swords with him in a way that may have seemed, from the outside, almost to be encouraging. Do not despair.”

  As soon as Lord Marklye and his party had left, the rest of the guests began to take their leave, the last to depart being the Armitages, largely on account of the parents finding it difficult to detach their elder son from Miss Best’s side. His eagerness to remain close to her and his earnest expression as he spoke made them wonder if anything had been agreed between them. They were thus able to go with a small flame of hope in their bosoms that perhaps their elder son was not to be cast into a debtors’ prison after all. Mary Best would not come into her fortune for some few years yet - they hoped – but they did not doubt that she would be able to effect a positive change in their son if she had a mind to do so. If he loved her – as he gave every sign of doing – he would surely reform his conduct for fear of losing her again.

  Turning back to Lady Leland as the door closed upon the Armitages, Mary saw that the old lady was very pale and hurried to her side.

  “My lady, you are fatigued; they stayed too long, did they not? I own I was beginning to think they would never go.”

  “It was your latest suitor who would not leave,” her ladyship said wearily. “He could not bear to be parted from you, very likely because he knows that the minute his back is turned you will return to sanity. Why in the world did you encourage him?”

  “I did not. I did my best to make it perfectly clear that I do not like him but he would not desist. And, you must own, my lady, that it was your decision to make me an heiress that encouraged him and, indeed, your suggestion that I should play him and Marklye off against each other – although that was not my intention. Up until this evening he had no ambitions beyond seduction; now, with the lure of the fortune, he has decided that only marriage will do and seems convinced that, if he exerts enough pressure upon me, I will concede defeat.”

  She spoke lightly, endeavouring to make a jest of an evening that had left her both angry and despairing. At the same time, she wished to reassure her employer that she was not in the least danger of succumbing to the despicable Mr Armitage’s blandishments because, beneath the old lady’s brave attempt at banter, she recognised anxiety.

  Discerning no answering gleam in her ladyship’s taut face, she added, “He is a self-declared fortune-hunter. He has come into the country, as we thought, on account of a heap of debts, and thinks to recoup his position – which I suspect may end in a debtors’ prison before too long if his parents are unable to bail him out again – by making me the object of his affections. It is all lies and so I told him.”

  “You flirted with him,” her ladyship retorted in a wan voice. “You need not have done so in quite such a convincing manner even if I did encourage you to set him up as a rival; in doing so, you have broken Marklye’s heart. I told you he would come back when he had had time to lick his wounds and think about your last meeting, but he will not if he believes you love another. I should not be surprised if he did not remove to London at once.”

  “He cannot without sending his guests away and they are fixed for the whole summer. In any event, we are to eat dinner there next week. I could not help it – truly I could not. I told Mr Armitage that I would not marry him if he were the last man on earth. He tried to blackmail me,” she added by way of a clincher.

  “What? How could he do so? Does he know aught of your past?” The old lady appeared to wake up at this, sitting up straighter in her chair and fixing her eyes upon her companion’s face.

  “No, he does not. He was fishing; it was only when he offered to tell you the worst that I realised he knew nothing. Dear Lady Leland, pray do not be anxious. He is a bad man, but I shall not allow him to bully me, I promise. Now let me help you to bed; it has been a long and tiring evening; much more so than the Autumn Ball. Somehow, when there are more guests, there is a lower level of intensity.”

  “I daresay it was my fault for announcing that you were my heiress,” her ladyship admitted. “He made a dead set at you and quite cut out, not only his lordship and Sir Adrian, but also his brother, who has admired you from afar for years. But you did not have to flirt with him in quite such a determined manner. If you are not careful, everyone will think you are engaged and, if you are not to become a jilt, you will find yourself obliged to marry him.”

  “Oh, pray do not be vexed with me. I own I did flirt a little at first – I thought it would be less disruptive to the other guests than giving him a sharp set-down when he might have lost his temper but, after he had threatened me with exposure, I did not. It is only that he would not desist. Rest assured that I shall not marry him even if I am pronounced a jilt and cast ignominiously from Society again. What, after all, does it matter? There is only one man whom I would marry if I could but, as you know, I cannot.”

  “Why cannot you?” the old lady almost shouted. “He is in love with you as are you with him. What possible reason can you have for refusing to consider it?”

  Mary cried out in despair, “You of all people know the reason; I cannot marry him because he deserves better. I could not pull him down so far.”

  “Why do you not allow him to be the judge of that? For Heaven’s sake, child, tell him the truth and let him decide or are you so deficient in courage that you would rather lose all than run the risk of him turning away?”

  “He does know the truth – or, rather, he guessed it and I did not deny it. That was why he made the offer: he felt unable to turn away; having asked me and having heard the worst, he could not in honour desert me. And, in honour, I cannot permit him to make such a sacrifice.”

  “No… th …” The old lady’s voice died away and she slipped sideways in her chair.

  “My lady, oh my dearest lady!” Mary cried, dropping to her knees and taking the old woman’s hand. She stroked it, squeezed it and kissed it but there was no response; it lay inert in hers. “W
ake up, oh pray wake up, open your eyes, squeeze my fingers, pray, pray, dearest, do not leave now – it is too soon, much too soon – and it is all my fault for flirting with that horrid man. Pray forgive me – say you forgive me!”

  But her ladyship seemed unable to say anything. Mary, peering at her anxiously, saw that neither her eyes nor her mouth were quite closed so that she could see an unnerving glint of blue through the drooping eyelids.

  “You are awake!” she observed accusingly. “Can you open your eyes a little wider? Speak to me!”

  This did elicit a response of sorts; although the old lady neither opened her eyes nor closed her mouth, she uttered a sort of indeterminate groan which Mary greeted with muted joy. “There – I am persuaded you will be better directly. I’ll send for the doctor; he will soon set you to rights,” she added, lowering her voice with an effort and changing her approach from the imperious to the reassuring.

  Having made sure that the old lady would not fall out of her chair by pushing her further back into it and lifting her legs on to a small stool, she left her side to run across the room and tug the bell by the fireplace.

  She was back on her knees when the butler appeared in answer to her summons.

  “Her ladyship has been taken ill. Please fetch the doctor at once. He must come immediately. And send Brill – she may know what to do for the best.”

  “Yes, Miss.”

  The old man, who was perhaps a mere ten years younger than his mistress, grew, judging by his appearance, almost as ill as she as he received this information and saw his mistress slumped in her chair, her authority vanished. His face drained of colour, the thin skin turning parchment white and the lines upon it deepening from creases to crevasses. His old eyes seemed for a moment to have lost all intelligence so that Mary wondered if he had understood her words, but he remained upon his feet and asked in a shaking voice, “Is she breathing still?”

  “Yes, of course she is. She is not dead! Can you not see that she is breathing?”

  “Yes, Miss.” Mary’s sharp response seemed to have stimulated him a little. “Would you like me to carry her to her bed?” he asked although he did not look as though he would be able to carry even so much as a letter.

  “Yes, in a moment, but send for the doctor first. Tell him it is urgent. He must come at once even if he is in his night clothes. Tell him not to waste time in dressing but just to come.”

  “Yes, Miss.”

  The old man left the room and Mary returned to her employer and began to chafe her hands and murmur to her, alternately beseeching her to open her eyes and speak and reassuring her that there was no need for her to exert herself in any way because all would be well in a trice.

  On to this touching scene her ladyship’s personal maid came in a headlong rush.

  “Oh, my lady! Oh, Heaven! Is she dead, Miss?” the handmaiden cried, wringing her hands and beginning to keen as though mourning the loss of her beloved mistress while yet she breathed.

  “No, of course she is not!” Mary snapped, irritated beyond reason. What in the world was the matter with the servants? She was thankful the butler had not begun screaming and had indeed carried out one of her orders because here was the maid, although it seemed unlikely that she would be of the least use.

  “Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Brill, pray do not stand there screeching in that pointless fashion. I thought you might know what to do. If you cannot be useful in any other way, pray fetch some cold water and a sponge and I will see what can be done with that. Put a few drops of lavender water in the bowl – my lady likes that, does she not?”

  “Yes, yes, Miss. Shall I bring the sal volatile too? I am sorry – to see her ladyship like that – it quite overset me!” The maid hiccoughed her way back from the brink of hysteria to a sort of cowed weeping.

  “Yes, it is very shocking but, since we do not wish her to remain like this for any longer than necessary, we must do the best we can for her. Yes, do bring the sal volatile and let us see if that will rouse her. Clarkson is sending for the doctor and then he will come, no doubt with one or two of the footmen, to carry my lady to her bed. Do you go and chivvy them up for I am sure she cannot be comfortable in this chair.”

  In fact, Mary was afraid the old lady was beyond being comfortable anywhere but, since she was still breathing – more or less – there remained cause for hope. The breaths were so shallow and quiet that she could hardly hear them, particularly against the continued sniffing and gulping of the maid, and she could barely discern any movement in her ladyship’s bird-like chest where the fragile bones stood out against the dry old skin.

  The maid scuttled out, her handkerchief held to her nose as though to stop her own breath and Mary sat down on the footstool beside her employer’s legs and besought her once more not to be anxious; help would soon arrive and she was certain her ladyship would feel much more the thing when she was stretched out in her own bed rather than huddled so awkwardly in the chair.

  “The evening was no doubt too long for you and I and those cursed men have put a terrible strain upon you. They are both – all – quite beyond the pale: Mr Armitage has not a shred of shame about his need to find a fortune and, when I pointed out that he would be obliged to wait several years before I …” She stopped abruptly, realising that she might find herself in possession of her inheritance before the night was out. Lady Leland made no response to this, not even a groan, and Mary continued, her voice gaining confidence as she embarked upon further revelation of her grievances. “He would in any event prefer to settle for seduction without benefit of the Church – that is what he has been seeking for years – indeed ever since he first set eyes upon me. You may be quite easy that his offer of marriage is based entirely upon his information that you have named me as your heiress; there is not the remotest likelihood of my falling for that nonsense.

  “As for Lord Marklye: I own that I did like him but have changed my mind after tonight. I never saw such a long face; I feared at one point that his jaw would fall into his boots.” This brazen denial drew a groan from Lady Leland and Mary, taking both the old lady’s hands in a firm grasp, said, “I daresay you are trying to tell me that it is my fault he had such a long face. That is it, is it not?” She received in answer to this direct question a slight pressure upon her hand from one of her ladyship’s and another indeterminate groan so that she could not be sure whether her employer was agreeing or arguing with her.

  “Oh, my dear lady, you can hear me, can you not? And you are positively bursting to contradict me. But he is too good for me; I cannot allow him to throw himself away on me. Mr Armitage is really much more suited to me than his lordship but I own I do not like him, so you have no need to be anxious on that score. In any event, I have no intention of leaving you for either of those vexatious men unless, of course, you are quite tired of me and wish that I would go away. If that is so, you have only to tell me; there really is no need for you to feel obliged to find me a husband; I can perfectly well take another job. It was that, was it not, your desire to see me married, that fatigued you so dreadfully? It is really quite absurd that my choice seems to lie between a man who is too bad, even for me, and one who is too good.” There was another groan in response to this but to Mary’s ears it sounded almost like a laugh and, since it was accompanied by another faint pressure from one thin old hand, Mary began to feel a smidgen of hope that her ladyship was very far from dead; although she did not seem to be able to speak or to move more than the fingers of one hand, it was perfectly clear that she understood every word her companion said.

  Being solely responsible for the conversation, Mary continued after a moment, “As for my other admirers: I think they have transferred their affections – quite rightly – to Miss Porter, who seems to be an agreeable girl. She is a little too tall for Charles Armitage but Sir Adrian would suit her very well; why, they would be able to hear what the other says without hurting their necks every time they wanted to exchange an opinion. And she looks like th
e sort of girl who enjoys riding. I daresay she would be happy to accompany him on his endless rounds of his estate. I should not, for I own that I prefer walking – and picking flowers – to riding. And, while he is exceedingly kind and pleasant, he does not quite understand my sense of humour; I often feel that he thinks I have said something outrageous when, really, I was only trying to find some amusement in an otherwise excessively dull subject.”

  The door opened again and the butler and two footmen came in. “Shall we take her to her bed now, Miss?” the butler, to whose face some colour and intelligence had returned, asked respectfully.

  “Yes. You have sent for the doctor?”

  “Yes, Miss. Potter has ridden for him. I am sure he will be here directly.”

  “Good. Yes, take her to her bed. Oh, do pray be careful. She looks so very fragile.” This last was torn from Mary’s lips as the younger of the two footmen, a strapping boy of not much more than nineteen, leaned down and scooped the old lady from her chair.

  Chapter 29

  Mary neither undressed nor went to bed. She sat, wrapped in a blanket, beside Lady Leland for what remained of the night.

  Despite it being summer, she caused a fire to be lit in the grate and rose from time to time to place another log upon it. The old lady lay so quiet and still that Mary felt constantly driven to make sure that she was still breathing, leaning down and placing her ear against her ladyship’s chest.

  The doctor had come as fast as he could, his clothes flung on without much attention to detail so that his cravat was tied badly and his waistcoat clashed violently with his coat. If Mary noticed these things, she was glad of them for they showed how rapidly the poor man had risen from his bed and rushed to offer what medical help he could.

  By the time he arrived, Lady Leland had been undressed by Brill, laid in her bed and the blankets pulled up and tucked in around her. During these ministrations she uttered little moans from time to time which meant, to Mary’s relief, that Brill did not again pronounce her mistress dead. Brill had waved the sal volatile in front of her face before, during and after her transportation to her bedchamber. It did seem to answer because, every time it passed in front of her nose, her ladyship groaned, her eyelids fluttered open and her mouth closed but, in spite of these positive signs, she did not speak.