Scandal's Daughter

by Emma V. Leech

  The barking and yapping became ever more raucous, and her curiosity now peaked, Georgiana decided to investigate. Opening the door she looked out into the hallway to see the butler hurrying downstairs and the barking getting ever more intense. Wondering what manner of devilry her dreadful canine had embarked upon now she decided she'd best follow, and then picked up her skirts and ran down the stairs to the kitchens as a scream of horror trembled the walls.

  The scene that awaited her as she entered the hallowed territory that belonged solely to the dictatorship of the chef, Alphonse, was one that only Bruegel could have done justice to. In fact it put her forcibly in mind of The Fight Between Carnival and Lent, a painting that had struck her with amusement when she was very young.

  Standing on the kitchen table in all of his stately majesty was Alphonse. In one hand he wielded a ladle and in the other a shockingly expensive Westphalian ham, around one end of which was clamped the jaws of a determined looking spaniel.

  "Oh thank heavens," Georgiana muttered, relieved beyond measure Céleste's wicked Bandit was to blame and not Conrad. Her reprieve was short lived however as a squirrel ran across a shelf of the dresser, sending china crashing to the floor in its wake as Conrad barked with wild abandon and chased it towards the larder.

  "Good gracious," she exclaimed as the housekeeper shrieked when the squirrel suddenly diverted and leapt across the room, tail whisking, a bare inch from her face. In her shock the beleaguered woman dropped a full jar of cornichons. The glass shattered sending the pickling liquid over the hem of Georgiana's skirts and filling the kitchen with the pungent aroma of vinegar. The squirrel leapt again and swung from the oil lamp over their heads, chattering with fury as Conrad leapt up on the table beside Alphonse to get closer. This was too much for Alphonse who took a swipe at Conrad with the ladle, missed and lost his footing. To give the elderly butler his due, he moved pretty fast to intercept the rather weighty chef before he hit the ground, but only succeeded in breaking his fall.

  With a sinking heart as the scene descended further into chaos, Georgiana decided enough was enough. She helped the winded butler to his feet as Alphonse rolled off him and then ran down the passage that led to the scullery. Here she found two trembling housemaids lurking. Scolding them soundly for being so chicken hearted, she sent them out into the fray armed with brooms and baskets.

  After a fair amount of squealing, shrieking and running about, the squirrel - who was sadly Conrad's responsibility after having brought the wretched thing in and letting it go - was safely confined in a picnic basket. This was given into the care of the second footman to remove to Hyde Park without delay. Georgiana was hard pressed to decide which of the haughty creatures was more disgusted by this arrangement. The furious squirrel had taken to growling with unsettling ferocity from the confines of its prison, while the second footman gave a revolted sniff of disdain and picked up the basket as though it contained bloody head rather than a small, disgruntled rodent.

  With one problem less Georgiana removed the ham from Alphonse's hands with a stern demand to know who exactly he thought would want to eat the wretched thing now? Alphonse, who had been sitting in a heap on the kitchen floor and keeping a continually yapping Bandit at bay with the ladle finally saw the sense in this. He relinquished the ham, if not the ladle, and Georgiana threw it into the garden. It was an easy matter then to remove the two reprobates who had caused all the trouble as they followed the ham as an unjust reward for their roguery.

  With a sigh Georgiana returned her attention to the kitchen. The housekeeper sat in the corner sobbing into her apron, Alphonse was helping himself to the earl's best brandy and threatening to hand in his notice in passionate if broken English, and a scene of devastation lay before her whichever way she turned.

  An hour later she had sent the butler, Alphonse and the housekeeper to have tea and cake in the back kitchen whilst the housemaids returned the kitchen to rights. She had promised Alphonse two Westphalian hams to be delivered from Fortnum and Masons' the very next day at her own expense, and a bottle of that fine establishment's best brandy for each of them to settle their nerves. Thus leaving them suitably mollified, she returned to the kitchen to find the maids putting everything in its place and climbed the stairs with a sigh, wondering if she would ever get the stench of vinegar out of her favourite sprigged muslin. The sight that next greeted her was not, therefore, one she could meet with any equanimity. Baron Dalton, clearly finding the door unlocked and no footman or butler to deny him, had entered the house and was awaiting her.

  She paused in the hallway, staring at him with disfavour.

  "I'm sorry no one was here to receive you, Uncle," she replied, keeping her tone polite if icy. "There was a commotion in the kitchens which needed our attention. I'm afraid Lord Falmouth cannot speak to you at present. If you would like to return later perhaps ..."

  "I know damn well Falmouth isn't here, girl," he replied with a sneer, his thin lips just as cruel and malicious as she remembered them. "I waited until your guard dog had left the premises, though I never expected to have such luck as to evade the butler and his minions too." He gave her a callous grin and gestured towards the drawing room. "Shall we ..."

  "I have no wish to further my acquaintance with you, Sir," Georgiana replied, her heart hammering with unease. "So I would ask that you leave now."

  The Baron snorted and to her horror crossed the hall, grasping her by the wrist and hauling her behind him into the drawing room where he slammed the door shut.

  "If you haven't realised by now that I don't give a damn what you want then you have even less brain than I credited you for," he said, his face full of hatred as she snatched her hand from his grasp and staggered away.

  "Say your piece, you brute, and then get out before Falmouth returns. He doesn't like bullies," she said, sneering at him in return. Before she had time to even consider that her words were not well placed before a man she knew inclined to violence, his hand snapped out and struck her face, a stinging blow that had her staggering backwards. She fell onto the sofa behind her, tears of shock and pain blurring her eyes but before she could scream or cry for help he had her by the throat, his large hand squeezing just enough to make breathing very hard indeed.

  "Listen to me, you little whore. I've seen the way you've got the men running after you like you're a bitch on heat, and if you think I'm vacating my home for a tart with no more class than a three penny upright you're sadly out on your reckoning." He squeezed a little tighter as Georgiana clawed at his hand to no avail. "This is the thing you're going to do. I will send you a message in two days, telling you where and when, and then you will come along like a good girl and marry Mr Rufford."

  He released her and she fell to her knees, gasping as tears fell from her eyes. She hauled in a breath and moved away from him, watching as he stared at her as though she was less than nothing.

  "And if I don't?" she demanded, pulling herself back up onto the sofa, determined that he shouldn't see her tremble before him, even if her knees were unlikely to carry her from the room if she tried to run from him.

  He reached into his pocket and for an appalled and horrifying second she saw the glint of a knife and thought he meant to kill her. Instead he grasped hold of her hair, pulling her head cruelly backwards, and cut off one thick ringlet, holding it up in front of her face with triumph in his eyes.

  "If you don't, I'll make sure every man of the town is given a share of this little token and a fair price to illustrate to anyone who'll listen about how they spent their nights availing themselves of your pleasures."

  Georgiana gasped and shook her head. "Please, no! You can keep the house, and the money, I don't want it. Just leave me be, I beg of you."

  "No," he replied. "You're not the kind of woman who leaves well enough alone. Oh, you're cowed enough for now with my fist in your sights," he said, his face bearing such malice for her she felt truly afraid. "But I wouldn't want you getting the idea you can get the better o
f me and get back what you believe is yours. No, you'll do as I say now or I'll finish the job of ruining you that your slattern of a mother began." He strode to the door, before pausing and turning back. "You'll receive my message and you'll do as you're bid or face the consequences."

  "I'll never do as you want," she exploded, rage overcoming fear as the unfairness of it took a hold of her and put fire in her blood. "You come here, accusing me of being worthless when you're nothing but a vile bully who uses his fists to force himself on those who can't fight back. I'll never put myself further into your power, never!"

  He didn't even blink, his serpentine eyes staring at her with cool disgust. "Then I'll ruin you," he replied, before closing the door in her face.

  Georgiana sat trembling, unsure of what to do, of who to turn to. Her first thought was to run to Lord Falmouth but he had been to so much trouble on her behalf already and with his Aunt Seymour taken ill too ... She would have to wait until tomorrow to speak with him. But Sebastian would surely know what to do. In any case she must tell him before such dreadful stories could come to his ears by another means.

  But it would be quite improper of her to arrive on his doorstep alone; she would have to send a message to ask him to call immediately. But looking at the mantel clock, however, she saw how very late it had grown. It was almost time to get ready for the masquerade ball where she would see him anyway. She would have to contrive to speak to him privately there and they would think of something. They had to.

  Chapter 30

  "Wherein ... the plot thickens."

  Lord Nibley and his sister, much to Georgiana's delight and surprise, were dressed as a pair of Spanish dancers. She exclaimed in delight, having unjustly supposed Percy would look down on such rowdy amusements. He coloured a little at her exclamation and then grinned.

  "I admit I had grave misgivings about this evening," he said, looking a trifle sheepish. "Hen hearted I know, but you get such odd and varied sorts as these affairs. I always feel it's not quite the thing for young ladies, but Florrie was determined to come and well ... do you know it's rather liberating to be someone else for an evening and everyone none the wiser."

  Georgiana laughed, though her own thoughts were too tangled to enter into his amusement as fully as she might have done. Privately she also thought anyone acquainted with Lord Nibley would never be deceived no matter the amount of garish colours he clad his long limbs with. His sister, Florence, was also tall and lean, though thankfully not to the extent of her brother. She had his kind brown eyes though and was a cheerful companion, much inclined to enjoy herself and see everything there was to be seen.

  "But I have not yet told you how very lovely you look," Nibley added boldly, colouring a little but saved by his sister who nodded vigorously.

  "Oh, yes," she breathed, looking flatteringly awestruck as she took in Georgiana's attire. "The very image of a goddess. You really are very beautiful, and Artemis with her silver bow and arrow is just the thing for your lovely figure."

  "The very image of a goddess indeed," Nibley said softly, this time causing Georgiana to blush.

  Looking suitably awkward Florence settled back against the squabs and they enjoyed a pleasant conversation as the carriage took them via the less fashionable but drier route over Westminster Bridge rather than chartering a boat to Kennington.

  They reached Vauxhall Gardens in Lambeth within the half hour, and it looked like an enchanted fairyland, glittering in the darkness. Thousands of glass, Chinese lanterns were hung all about the wide, sweeping avenues glowing gold and the ornamental lake was lit with floating candles. The grand rococo rotunda too was all aglow and everywhere the eyes were assaulted by colourful costumes and the swirl of domino cloaks as masked figures laughed louder and more boldly than usual. For the first hour Georgiana despaired of ever finding Sebastian in the crush but she had been right about Lord Nibley's singularly lanky frame. Beyond relieved, a familiar voice slid over her skin, sending shivers of anticipation down her spine.

  "Good evening, lovely Artemis," he whispered against her ear and she turned, confronted with a black silk domino, lined with scarlet and a black mask. She knew the dark eyes that glittered behind the mask however and felt her tension ease a little. Sebastian would surely know what to do. "I would be afraid such a powerful goddess would steal my heart away," he said, his voice still low and serious. "But alas you must find another for mine is already claimed."

  "Oh?" she replied, smiling up at him, despite the fear in her heart that trouble awaited them. "You do not find me to your liking, your Grace?"

  "Oh how could I not?" he exclaimed, shaking his head. "But I have lost my heart to a mortal woman and have promised to have no other."

  "I should think not!" she said, with an arch look, making him laugh.

  "You look so very beautiful, love," he whispered and then stepped back a little as Lord Nibley and his sister joined them.

  "Your grace," Nibley said, nodding, though Georgiana thought she detected a cool look in Percy's face that surprised her.

  They walked on along the gravelled avenue as the strains of music tangled on the evening air. In every grove, temple and lodge they passed, music was heard and the scent of food and chink of glasses as every variety of refreshment and entertainment was offered and the crowds grew ever livelier. They passed small, brightly coloured tents where gypsies offered to read cards and tell fortunes and the structures of the large Turkish tents glowed with golden light. The music grew louder as they approached the umbrella of the music room as dancing was the entertainment within and Georgiana thought her chance of speaking to Sebastian privately was only to be found here.

  She gave a little urgent tug on his arm and gestured towards the rotunda. His mouth quirked into a smile and he paused to bow to her with a very formal air.

  "Would you do me the honour, Lady Dalton, of dancing with me."

  "Why, your Grace, what a charming idea."

  With a promise to meet Lord Nibley and Florence at the box he had reserved for supper in a quarter of an hour, Sebastian led her onto the floor.

  The enormous and extravagantly painted domed ceiling was hung with a vast chandelier over eleven foot wide, and the noise of music and laughter rose and echoed around them. An infectious atmosphere swept among the dancers who moved with more than usual effervescence as colourful silks of skirts and cloaks swirled like intoxicated butterflies. For a moment Georgiana allowed herself to be swept along with them in her partner's strong arms, but her uncle's ugly promise could not be banished from her mind for more than a few moments. She looked up to see Sebastian's eyes on hers, his expression troubled.

  "We both have much on our minds I see."

  She nodded, and gave him a beseeching look. "Oh, Sebastian, I must talk to you alone. I am in so much trouble."

  "Trouble?" he repeated, his voice sharp. "How is this?"

  His voice was indistinct with the volume of noise around them and she shook her head.

  "We can't discuss it here. I can hardly hear myself think."

  With skilled ease, he guided them through the throng to the edge of the dancing and led her back out onto the paths.

  "We'd best make our way back to Nibley," he said, his voice low. "Neither of us can afford a scandal right now. I've had the very devil of a day, persuading my mother's companion not to go babbling to her family about how ill used she's been. Not to mention how my mother recently lost her mind and tried to kill her!"

  "What?" Georgiana exclaimed. "You're not serious?"

  "Deadly serious, love," he replied, his face grim.

  "Oh! This is all my fault isn't it?"

  He stopped and grasped hold of her hands. "No! Never think it!" He squeezed her fingers, his eyes warm behind the mask. "I have blamed myself for much of her ... illness. But I spoke to her doctor and ... and he explained a great deal that I hadn't understood. Georgiana, none of this is of our making. You were but a babe at the time it began and I'll not allow our futures to become m
ired in their mistakes."

  "B-but she knows ...about us?"

  He sighed and placed her hand back on his arm. "I don't know if she does or not, truth be told, Georgiana. She's ... she's lost her mind. She attacked me too, though she thought I was my father. She'd been reading the scandal rags and ... I think it was too much. It brought the past too much to her mind and ..." He shrugged and gave a crooked smile in response to her horrified expression. "Do you think you can really bear it, love? It is such a lot to ask of you, to face the scandal all over again and to be married into such a family."

  "Oh, how can you think I would change my mind over such a thing!" she cried, shaking her head. "Only," she paused, hearing her voice tremble as the violent encounter with her uncle came to mind again. "It may be that you ... you'll have to, when I've told you ..."

  "Impossible," he replied, interrupting her, the word sure and stern. "Nothing will stand between us, not now. But you'd best tell me and we'll see what's to be done."

  The moment was lost, however, as Lord Nibley approached them.

  "I saw you wandering off in the wrong direction," he said, his voice light though he cast Sebastian a very dark look. "So I thought I'd best come and rescue you before you became hopelessly lost. They're about to serve supper you see."

  Georgiana murmured that he was very kind and they followed in his wake back to the private box he'd booked for the evening.