by JayneFresina
She sighed heavily. "Since I know nothing of Latin or harps, I don't hold out much hope for this fledgling romance with young Bertie Boxall of the fine face and good hair."
"If you make no effort to be pleasant to the gentleman," her elder sister lectured wearily, "then you have nobody to blame but yourself."
"Why do you assume I will not be pleasant, Serenity? I am one of the pleasantest people I know. Dogs love me, and they are excellent judges of character."
"Dogs only love you because they have no idea what you're saying, and you feed them scraps from your plate at dinner. With people you are stubborn, combative and argumentative, and you are more likely to stick a fork in a man's hand as let him taste your dinner."
"It is called the love of hearty debate, sister. And it was not a fork. How many times must I tell you all? I rapped him on the knuckles with a berry spoon, because I did not care much for his straying hand. I am certain there would be questions raised if I were to try and molest somebody's raspberries at the dinner table."
Her sister glared and flipped open her fan. "You also have a sense of humor that, since it amuses nobody but yourself and is of a puerile nature, ought to be kept silent in company."
"So when you say I should be pleasant, you mean stupid. I must agree with everything that's said and have no opinion of my own. And God forbid I laugh."
"Certainly the way you laugh, sister. It is not ladylike. Especially not here."
"Then please do tell me how I am supposed to laugh in this society?"
"Sparingly and lightly. A keen, interested smile is far more agreeable. More flattering to the facial features. One should always appear interested in the conversation, no matter how dreary the subject. You saw how I smiled indulgently throughout Major Broughton's treatise on cricket yesterday, even though I had the toothache."
"I did indeed, and I admire your fortitude, Serenity. When it comes to the conversation of Major Broughton I should as soon plug my ears with olives. But that could be said of most conversations I've had to listen to of late."
Her sister looked at her as if she thought Pip might actually have olives secreted about her person for that very purpose. "Then if you can think of nothing appropriate to say in the company of Lord Boxall I suggest you remain silent and pretend you have a sore throat. You cannot do any more harm with your lips shut than you can with them open."
"So I should stand mutely, while I am judged as if I could be the last remaining ham hock on a questionable butcher's stall?"
"With that scowl on your face you'd be lucky to get anybody to look at you at all. Medusa had a more welcoming countenance."
"Good. I would rather have a head full of snakes than dance with any of these nincompoops, and there are quite a few of them I should like to cast into stone. Not that anybody would tell the difference."
"Lower your voice! Remember how fortunate we are that Aunt Du Bois managed to secure invitations for us." Serenity's fan worked rapidly as she tried to cool her increasingly pink face and trembled against the temptation to raise her own voice in an unladylike fit of pique. "There are many titled gentlemen present." She stilled her fan and whispered behind it, "That one over there is a viscount, I believe. Or will be, one day."
Pip looked and saw exactly what she expected: a rather wet looking fellow with a stoop, droopy, indolent eyes, a mottled nose and oddly arranged hair that could be hiding a bald spot or, as she preferred suggesting to her sister, a small door for the purposes of winding his brain with a key. A service for which he was clearly overdue.
A grey-haired lady with a very dour expression and one stiff finger that she flourished like the prodding point of an umbrella, followed closely behind him, chattering shrilly so that he could not get a word in.
"That must be his lady wife steering him up the stairs, reminding him which direction to walk. No doubt she also reminds him how to wipe his nose and put on his shoes."
"I happen to know it's his great aunt. Clearly you can see she is much older. Besides, I heard he is not married."
"Ah! Hence your interest. Make haste then and seize the sad, endangered creature, sister," she exclaimed. "Save us all several hours of dire humiliation tonight by catching him now, and then we can go home. I suppose you are fortunate that he yet has some teeth in his head. He doesn't look as if he could put up much of a fight and a strong gust of wind would surely damage him beyond repair. Better put your fan away, Serenity, lest any of his noble parts should accidentally drift off in the violence of your passion. You'll need all his pieces intact."
"Oh, hush! For pity's sake. People might hear. For somebody who does not like to be judged on her appearance you are mightily quick to judge others."
She sighed. "I suppose you are right, sister. I am duly chastened." But without her sister to tease it wouldn't be nearly as much fun.
Serenity gave her another hard appraisal. "Stop tapping your fingers on your fan. Your tapping fingers are always a sign of mischief afoot." Her eyes became two dark thorns, ready to prick at anything they saw out of place. "You had better not think to embarrass me into leaving early this evening. We will stay until it is fashionable to leave and if you try so much as a silly voice or an odd laugh— or that drunken lurching thing you like to do when dancing— I shall never speak to you again."
"Do not taunt me with such a promise."
"One of these days you will pay heed to me. I am never granted the respect I am due as the eldest and I—" She caught her breath. "Oh, mercy at last! I see people moving forward. It is almost our time to go up and be announced."
"Let joy be unconfined."
Serenity shot her one last frown and turned her head away.
After a short, thoughtful pause, Pip prodded her in the shoulder. "But to what drunken lurching thing do you refer, sister?" She'd always assumed it was other people who got in her way to ruin the formation. For once this was not something she did purposefully to irritate anybody.
Snap! Serenity's fan was off again, fluttering wildly, despite the danger to all those fragile aristocrats, raised in the rarefied, undisturbed air of hothouses. "I swear, sister, you pluck at my last nerve." She grandly swiveled away completely, as if even looking at Pip would further test the elasticity of that infamously much-tortured nerve.
Now it was the turn of their younger sister to attempt entreaty in her own, gentler fashion. "I know you only say all that to tease, Pip. But do try to maintain an even temper tonight. You must promise to smile and be agreeable. It keeps everybody so much happier. Besides," she smiled hopefully, "you might even fall in love. Such things do happen."
"My dear little Merrythought, I will do my very best to please you." Glancing around, one hand to her neck, she winced. "Although I already feel the assembled rabble sucking the air out of me. The challenge of holding my tongue will doubtless suffocate me, and I'm not yet ready to die." With a sly peek under her eyelashes to enjoy her elder sister's reaction— demonstrated just as effectively by those rigid shoulder blades and the reddening of her ears as it would be by her face— she added, "I have far too much life yet to explore and considerable wickedness of which to partake. In point of fact, I do not intend ever to depart this life. Even as my parts wither and fall like leaves from the trees, I shall live on interminably, scaring folk in dark corners, free to say and do exactly as I please with nobody to censor me. Because, as our sister says, one must respect the elderly. Of which she is one, of course."
While the target of her teasing caused an even wilder breeze with her fan, the younger sister looked worried and whispered, "Oh, don't torment Serenity. You wouldn't want her to get so over-heated that she develops a rash."
"I may be blamed for a great many things, Merry. But I refuse to be held responsible for the balance of our sister's delicate and capricious complexion."
"Just try not to cause any damage tonight, Pip. To yourself or anybody. Or anything. Especially not to Lord Boxall. We wouldn't want another scandal."
Pip smiled at that
sweet, anxious face and squeezed the small, white-gloved hand that rested in hers. "Fret not, Merry. I have not forgotten that you lent me your best lace shawl tonight." Releasing her sister's fingers, she patted the borrowed garment where it draped over her shoulder. "It will not be out of my sight all evening. I vow to defend your shawl against any would-be thieves, from wind, rain, fire and spilled punch. Indeed, this shawl is likely to keep me out of trouble, I shall be so busy guarding its virtue and decorum that, for once, nobody need worry about mine."
Her sisters exchanged glances, neither looking at all mollified, and then they continued up the steps behind their Aunt Du Bois, leaving Pip to follow.
Well, she thought glumly, her smile melting away now that it no longer had an audience, her sisters would not be the only souls surprised if she survived an event unscathed. But she bolstered her spirits with the reminder that all she need do was get through this ordeal for another year and then she could go home. This was not a permanent exile and, once it was over, Pip would have proven three things to her father: that she had learned to hold her temper, that she had matured into a responsible young woman— despite the ever irresistible urge to tease her sister— and that no matter how far afield he sent her, she was never going to find a husband. He might as well settle his mind to the idea of letting her work for the family business and take her place at last as his "right-hand man". Not every woman was meant for marriage and children. Some could be useful in other ways.
Pip had decided, long ago, that she had far more to offer the world than birthing hips. One day she would stop her father lamenting his lack of male heirs and make him see that he had a daughter who could, given the chance, be every bit as useful as a son. More so, in fact.
Alas tonight, before she even entered the ballroom, proceedings had already started off on the wrong foot. Or rather, under it.
The infamous Miss Epiphany Piper's forward progress came to an immediate halt, accompanied by a loud and dreadful ripping sound.
As her aunt would say, Merde!
Chapter Two
"I cannot think why you bother me here, man. This business can be dealt with on the morrow. Step aside."
"Lord Roper, I have attempted this conversation with you thrice and you are always caught up with something else to do. Would you prefer we drop the case? Since you avoid discussion of the matter, I wondered if you had changed your mind. That you had come, perhaps, to realize you were mistaken."
"Certainly not!" Maroon-faced, the blustering gentleman rocked on his heels and blew out a heavy gust of port fumes. "That scoundrel will be brought to justice. I am intent upon it."
"Then you still charge that your servant, John Wilson, is responsible for damage to your property, theft of items from your house and the poaching of pheasant from your land?"
"My former servant, Wilson. Yes. Now get out of my way. This is neither the time nor the place."
"I must inform you, your lordship, that John Wilson maintains his innocence and claims you have a motive here other than the pursuit of justice. He has, in fact, related to me— and to my clerk— a full account of all that took place. All that took place between the two of you."
The significance of that word "all" hung heavily in the air between the two men, for they both understood its meaning, although only one of them would admit to it.
"Balderdash! The man is a villain— and an audacious one to commit such slander." Lord Roper tilted to one side at a dangerous angle, requiring his thin, fretful-looking wife to bear more of his weight than she ever carried on her own two feet. "Did I not hire you to work for me, young man?" he slurred. "Is it not your purpose to convince the magistrate of that swine Wilson's guilt, rather than come to me with tales of his supposed innocence? To attack me, in a public place, with his scandalous falsehoods?"
"I had no choice but to meet you here, since you continually ignore my visits and messages."
"Do you imagine that I— a peer of the realm— can be summoned at your bidding like some snot-nosed little errand lad? You forget with whom you are dealing...boy." Clearly, Lord Roper had forgotten the name of his solicitor, or perhaps he had never paid heed to it. Why would he? "Do you imagine," he continued, "that a gentleman of my standing can be hounded in such a disgraceful way, even at a ball? I was led to believe that your firm is one of the best in London, and I was told that you, despite your youth, have the reputation of a ruthless shark. But now it seems I must tell you your job."
"I know my job, Lord Roper."
"Then do it. You'll take your fee readily enough, to be sure."
The reply was calm, steady. Nobody would suspect the rising temper beneath. Nobody, unless they knew him very well, would see the restlessness bubbling just below the surface as this young man gave a quick tug to the knot of his neck cloth. "I merely wanted you to be apprised of Wilson's claims. So that you have a chance to be prepared, should you still wish to proceed and have the case heard in court."
"Still wish to proceed? Why should I care what some thieving servant has to say? Why should anybody? You damnable lawyers! Looking to get more money out of me, I daresay. Are none of you to be trusted?"
"You may not care what he has to say in his defense, Lord Roper. But it will be heard. In court. In front of others. It will, undoubtedly, appear in the newspapers. From there it will reach the eyes and ears of a great many. A word, once it is printed, is often believed, whether there is truth in it or not."
Roper's eyes bulged, and his cheeks puffed. Finally, he sputtered, "Very well! What is the blackguard saying about me then? Don't look at my wife; this is naught to do with her. She understands nothing. She knows nothing. I insist you tell me what the villain has said."
"John Wilson claims that you know where the missing items are and that the damage to your property is the result of your own negligence and temper. As for the brace of pheasant, he claims there never was any on your land. He contends that this action brought against him is meant to alleviate you of the need to pay wages long overdue. Wilson drew my attention to the fact that, over the course of five years, you have brought the same case against six other former servants of your household too— alleging destruction of property, robbery, the taking of livestock, etcetera. Even, at times, the same livestock."
Outrage bubbled out of his lordship's small, tight mouth. "What the devil are you suggesting?"
He thought it was clear enough, but apparently not. So he explained carefully in his low, measured voice, "That you are either extremely unlucky in your choice of servant, and manage always to hire from the criminal class, or that you are forgetful in the payment of wages and in the handling of your own possessions when you make gifts of certain pieces of property."
The gentleman's color deepened further, in such contrast to his white hair that his head began to look like a slab of bacon. His pale wisp of a wife was surely about to crumple under his swaying weight.
"You believe his word over mine? I am the accuser in this case, am I not? And he is merely a servant! I see you common upstarts band together, is that it?"
"It matters not whom I believe, your lordship. I was hired by you and so you I came here to counsel." The "upstart" shot another quick look at the quietly suffering Lady Roper. "If you continue with this case, your...habits and companions, private matters, may be discussed."
Finally, he thought he was making a dent in the thick head of his client. From the expression on Lord Roper's face, the vociferous fool began to see that he might be better off letting this particular former lover slip away into the sunset, along with his secrets and the gifts given to him over the course of the affair. Unlike his other servants, Wilson was unafraid to speak up, comfortable in his own skin, and bold enough not to be intimidated by the presence of a magistrate.
Lady Roper might not suspect where all the family treasures had truly gone over the years, but she would be the only soul still left in the dark if John Wilson told the court everything that had occurred between himself and his master. I
t would be the sort of scandal loved by the newspapers and readily devoured by the public. The former footman was not only bold and a born performer, he was also desperate and enraged, and even though exposing the truth of his association with Roper was a great risk to himself, he was likely to do it, just for his moment of infamy in the broadsheets and to know he would not go down alone.
Of course, Roper's former footman could be discredited, for he, like most men, had his own set of addictions, troubles and enemies. And he was not particularly clever. The magistrate would favor Roper in the case since they undoubtedly belonged to the same club and held the same view of servants. Defeat would not, however, prevent Wilson from saying his piece. Loudly. In court. Damaging one who did not deserve it— Lady Roper.
Yes, it would surprise a great many people to know, but this upstart young man, this notoriously hardnosed, coldblooded lawyer, had developed a shameful soft spot for that lady. He had no explanation for it, but there it was.
If Messrs. Stempenham and Pitt discovered that their most dedicated young employee had gone there tonight to talk his client out of a case, they would, to put it mildly, not be pleased. But in his opinion, Roper's wife had suffered enough during her twenty years of marriage. This upstart lawyer may not be known for charitable deeds himself— even his own father called him a merciless bull shark— but he could still recognize, somewhat reluctantly, the good in others when he saw it.
Lady Roper, so easily dismissed by her husband as a cipher who knew and understood nothing, was a virtuous, honorable woman, one of the few who tried to help the many poor, cold and hungry of that town. She did so without looking for reward or praise, or even notice. Throughout her husband's excessive gambling, drinking and adultery, she simply got on with her life, quietly and selflessly working to improve the lot of others.
"We make the best we can of the cards we are dealt, do we not, young man?" she had said softly to her husband's lawyer only the day before, after he had waited in vain to catch Lord Roper at home. "To survive in this world we do what we must, not always what we would like to do. Then we find ourselves running in circles, getting nowhere." In response to this rather cryptic comment, he had managed the closest facsimile he could to a smile.