Finessing Clarissa

by Beaton, M. C.

  Clarissa shuffled her feet, dropped her reticule, picked it up, dropped her fan, picked it up, and stood with her head bowed.

  ‘It’s very naughty of you to encourage such lavish compliments, Miss Vevian,’ said Amy. ‘Don’t think Greystone would like it.’

  ‘Miss Vevian is not Greystone’s property,’ said Lord Sandford haughtily.

  ‘Not yet, she ain’t,’ said Amy. ‘That is if you mean the engagement hasn’t reached the papers.’

  ‘Engagement?’ Lord Sandford looked at Clarissa, who blushed and said, ‘I should have told you. I do not know why I did not.’

  Lord Sandford looked at Amy, who stood foursquare in front of them and showed not the least sign of moving. Sir Jason’s face rose before his eyes, painted and venomous. His head reeled. The sun was hot and he wished he had not drunk so much. He must think!

  ‘I am sorry I arrived too late on the scene. Excuse me, ladies.’

  Amy watched him go. ‘I’m sorry for him,’ she said. ‘Pleasant fellow and eminently suitable, too. But a girl like you is better off with a man taller than herself.’

  ‘I should have said something,’ said Clarissa miserably. ‘But somehow I could not.’

  ‘Never mind,’ said Amy. ‘Greystone’s a much better catch. Oh, Lor’, here come the ugly sisters.’ By which she meant Bella and Angela.

  ‘Not sisters,’ said Clarissa with a grin, ‘and they are both very pretty, but I know what you mean.’

  Angela came fluttering up. ‘What a divine hat, Miss Vevian. Oh, goldfish. Do look, Miss Vevian.’

  Clarissa turned politely and looked down into the pool.

  Angela put an affectionate arm about her waist and Bella stood closely on her other side.

  Effy, who had been following the two ladies, moved close to Amy. ‘They plan to push her in!’ she said softly. ‘I heard them.’

  ‘Create a diversion! Quick!’ muttered Amy. ‘No, not here, silly. Over there.’

  Effy tripped hurriedly away. Angela’s grip on Clarissa tightened.

  Often, Effy had been so worried about their circumstances that she could have screamed aloud. But it was vulgar for ladies to betray any noisy excess of emotion. Here, though, was an opportunity to let out a really good scream.

  ‘A snake!’ she cried, pointing at the grass. ‘EEEEeeeeeee!’

  It was a magnificent scream.

  Clarissa swung round and wrenched herself free from Angela and ran towards Effy. All the guests came running as well, except Bella and Angela, who stood with their backs to the pool.

  ‘Drat,’ said Angela. ‘We’ll need to try again.’

  ‘Try what?’ said Amy Tribble, suddenly appearing in front of them again.

  ‘Go away, you disgusting creature,’ said Angela fiercely. ‘I will never, never forgive you for what you did to me!’

  ‘Never?’ demanded Amy, her hands on her hips. ‘Then I suppose it doesn’t matter what I do.’

  She darted forward with her hands outstretched and gave both Angela and Bella a hearty shove. Both fell backwards into the goldfish pool.

  ‘That’s what you intended to do to Miss Vevian,’ said Amy.

  The group around Effy had dispersed and were now running towards the goldfish pool. Amy, who had moved quickly away, could hear Angela’s noisy and tearful accusations.

  ‘Lor’,’ said Amy. ‘Can’t abide scenes.’ She collected Effy and Clarissa and suggested they should leave as quickly as possible.

  They had come by hired carriage and Amy had given the coachman instructions to pick them up much later. ‘No matter,’ she said once they were outside in the street, ‘a little walk home won’t harm us.’

  ‘May I offer you my escort?’ said a voice behind them.

  They turned round. Lord Sandford was standing there, slightly breathless, but smiling.

  ‘That’s very handsome of you,’ said Amy.

  ‘You mean I am taking my disappointment well,’ he said with an infectious grin. ‘But I expect to be rewarded. An offer of tea, nice strong black Bohea, to clear my brain.’

  ‘You may have all the tea you can drink,’ said Effy, fluttering her eyelashes and taking his arm and moving off with him, leaving Clarissa and Amy to follow.

  ‘Damned ridiculous,’ muttered Amy. ‘Just look at her. She can’t leave anything in breeches alone. But, I say, he has wonderful legs. Just look at that curve. Reminds me of a balustrade.’

  Clarissa had not heard Amy in quite so relaxed or free-spoken a mood before. Amy was feeling ridiculously happy. She and Effy had another success. She had had all the fun of giving Angela and Bella a ducking. Nasty pair! She absent-mindedly began to whistle through her teeth, until Clarissa pressed her hand and said, ‘You whistle very well, Miss Amy, but you are attracting a certain amount of attention.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Amy. ‘I am so deuced happy, that’s why. Another success for us, don’t you see, and no violence or nasty murders either.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ asked Clarissa. Amy told her of the happenings that had taken place at the house during the stay of their previous charge.

  When she had finished, Clarissa said, ‘I do not think I like adventures. I just want to settle down and have lots and lots of children.’

  ‘That’s the stuff,’ said Amy. ‘Here we are. I suppose we will need to invite that young man in for tea. But he deserves it. He has behaved very well, and,’ she added waspishly, ‘any young man who can bear the flirtings and oglings of Effy Tribble certainly deserves a reward. Before we go inside, a word in your ear, Clarissa. Next time you go anywhere socially, you must say to yourself, “I am going to marry the Earl of Greystone – the handsome Earl of Greystone. I. Clarissa Vevian. And not some chattering little miss with more hair than wit like Chloris Deveney.” That should give you bags of confidence.’

  Effy had entered the hall ahead of them, with Lord Sandford behind her. As Amy and Clarissa entered, they heard Effy say, ‘Oh, Harris, do not keep on plaguing me about the disappearance of Mrs Loomis. Have tea brought up to the drawing room, right away.’

  Lord Sandford stood aside to let the ladies go first, his mind still racing. He had been a fool to waste his time on Clarissa Vevian. He should have courted old Effy Tribble instead!

  He felt better after the walk. His head had begun to clear. He gratefully drank two cups of strong tea and wondered how to get Clarissa alone to see if he could get the papers.

  He decided to see if he could get upstairs to the bedrooms unnoticed. He rose to his feet. ‘May I be excused, ladies?’

  Since he did not pick up his hat and gloves, no one was rude enough to ask him where he was going. His destination was obvious.

  Once outside the drawing room, he took a deep breath and darted for the stairs. He let out a yelp of surprise as he nearly bumped into a small housemaid.

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ he said. ‘I was looking for the . . . er.’

  ‘The Jericho, my lord. It’s in the garding. This way, my lord.’

  Cursing under his breath, he followed her downstairs, where he was turned over to a tall footman who then conducted him out to the earth closet in the garden and then conducted him all the way back up the stairs to the drawing room.

  ‘More tea?’ Amy asked.

  He did not want any more tea but he simply had to stay as long as possible. Had Greystone not spiked his guns, he would have asked leave to pay his addresses to Miss Vevian and then begged a few moments in private with her.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I am still very thirsty.’

  He was just holding out his cup when Harris entered. He addressed the Tribbles. ‘There is a person from the constabulary to see you,’ he said. He added with gloomy relish, ‘Mrs Loomis, the housekeeper, has been found.’

  ‘Then where is she?’ demanded Amy as she and Effy got to their feet.

  ‘Dead as a doornail, with a knife stuck in her heart.’

  Effy turned pale and Amy put an arm about her and snapped at the butler, �
�Stop enjoying yourself, you ghoul, and conduct us downstairs.’

  ‘I was merely giving you the facts,’ said Harris, sounding injured. ‘The constable found this address in the pocket of her petticoat when they was searching the body. He wishes you to view the corpse and identify it proper.’

  ‘I don’t think I can,’ said Effy.

  ‘Oh, I’ll do it,’ said Amy, ‘but come along with me, Effy. Sandford, you must see yourself out. No, Clarissa, we don’t need you. Practise your scales or read some Italian or something.’

  ‘How dreadful,’ said Clarissa when they had gone.

  ‘Shocking things happen in London,’ said Lord Sandford mournfully. ‘I am glad to have this opportunity to speak to you alone, Miss Vevian.’

  ‘Oh, no, please don’t,’ begged Clarissa. ‘I should be most embarrassed. I humbly apologize for having obviously given you the wrong idea.’

  ‘No, no, nothing to do with that,’ he said hurriedly. He stopped and listened. Voices from the hall and then the slamming of the street door. The Tribbles had gone.

  ‘I have a confession to make, Miss Vevian,’ he began, twinkling at her in a boyish manner. ‘A few years ago I became embroiled in a liaison with a married lady. She wrote very passionate letters to me. I should not have kept them. My valet stole various items from me, along with the packet of letters. He was staying at The Bell at the same time as yourself and hid the letters in the bottom of your jewel box. You see, evidently the militia arrived to look for some government papers and he hid the stolen items in various rooms. All were recovered, but I could not ask too closely about the letters. The poor fellow repented of the theft and confided everything to me. Should the letters fall into the wrong hands, the poor lady might be blackmailed.’

  Clarissa remembered that rabbity young man. But he hadn’t looked like a valet. She was still shocked at the news of the murder of the housekeeper and could not think clearly. She moved her hands in a helpless way and said, ‘But there is nothing but jewellery in my jewel box.’

  ‘Oh, please go and look again,’ he said. ‘I beg you.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Clarissa. ‘Wait here.’

  On her way up to her bedroom, she met Baxter, the Tribbles’ lady’s maid, who was dressed to go out. ‘They should have taken me with them,’ said Baxter. ‘Miss Effy’s bound to have hysterics. If you are looking for Hubbard, miss, she has the headache and is lying down in her room. I am just going to join my two ladies.’

  ‘Do what you can to help them,’ said Clarissa. ‘Poor Mrs Loomis.’

  ‘It’s a wicked city, this,’ said Baxter.

  She went on down the stairs. Clarissa went up to her room and threw back the lid of her jewel box and lifted out the trays. She moved aside necklaces and bracelets and felt at the bottom of the box. Her fingers touched what she had previously assumed to be packing which Hubbard had put at the bottom. Her eyes widened. She searched for the corners until she found an edge and pulled out a flat packet sealed in black oilskin.

  And then her heart began to hammer against her ribs. What if this contained the missing government papers? She could not hand the packet to Lord Sandford without making sure. The packet was stitched all round. She found her sewing scissors and loosened the stitches along one edge and drew the papers out. One brief look was enough. Clarissa turned white. Her first impulse was to call for help. But just as she opened her mouth to shout, she closed it again. Whom could she trust? Only Hubbard, who would scream the place down. Someone had been in her room that night. Any of the servants might be aiding and abetting the spies.

  She must get rid of Sandford and then wait for Amy and Effy to return. She seized a novel and quickly cut out several of the pages and then, forcing herself to be calm, she put them in the packet instead of the government papers and stitched up the packet again.

  She shoved the government papers under her mattress, picked up the packet, and ran down the stairs.

  ‘What an age you have been!’ cried Lord Sandford. He saw the packet in Clarissa’s hands and darted forward and seized it. ‘Thank you. I shall be ever grateful to you, Miss Vevian.’

  Clarissa looked at him solemnly. ‘You had better be on your way, my lord,’ she said. ‘You should not be alone with me when my chaperones are absent.’

  ‘Servant, ma’am,’ he cried, seizing her hand and kissing it. He ran from the room. Clarissa crossed to the window, opened it and leaned out. He emerged after only a few moments and ran off down the street.

  She sat down with her legs trembling. Should she put on her bonnet and go to the nearest magistrate? But look what had happened to Mrs Loomis. That could have just been a straightforward murder not connected with any spies, but Clarissa was sure it was not. Amy and Effy could not be long. All she had to do was sit tight and wait.

  Lord Sandford ran all the way to his club, sure of finding Sir Jason there. Sir Jason was lounging in the coffee room, reading a newspaper.

  ‘Got ’em,’ said Lord Sandford triumphantly.

  Sir Jason smiled. ‘You see how easy it is to clear your debts? That packet is worth a fortune to us. Now we walk to a certain address where arrangements will be made for your trip to Paris.’

  They strolled together in the direction of Charing Cross. The fine weather was beginning to break. The sky was becoming dark.

  At last they arrived at a seedy tenement in a long street which led down to Hungerford Stairs. Sir Jason led the way up to the first landing and rapped twice on the door. ‘Enter,’ called a voice.

  They went into a darkened room furnished only with a table and three chairs. A small sallow man was sitting at the table. ‘Mr Ryan, who will arrange your journey and supply you with enough money to live in Paris like a king,’ said Sir Jason expansively.

  ‘The papers,’ demanded Mr Ryan in a hoarse voice. Sir Jason threw the packet down on the desk.

  ‘Good,’ said Mr Ryan, fingering the packet. Then his eyes narrowed. ‘What is this?’ he demanded.

  ‘What is what, dear fellow?’ asked Sir Jason.

  ‘The stitching down this side is new and of white thread. I assume you checked the papers and sewed the packet up again yourself.’

  There was a long silence. Sir Jason turned and looked at Lord Sandford, his eyes flat and obsidian.

  ‘No, I didn’t look,’ said Lord Sandford. ‘Bound to be right, though. She didn’t suspect a thing.’

  Mr Ryan took out a long slim knife and sliced the white stitching. He drew out the papers and looked down at them. Then he raised his eyes and looked at Lord Sandford.

  ‘These are pages cut out of a novel,’ he said.

  Sir Jason moved like lightning. He struck Lord Sandford full across the face, his diamond ring gashing the young man’s cheek.

  ‘Damn you!’ shouted Lord Sandford, raising his fists.

  Then he lowered them. Mr Ryan had drawn out a pistol and was levelling it at him.

  Sir Jason looked at Lord Sandford with contempt. ‘Has she had time to go to the authorities?’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ said Lord Sandford. ‘She was alone, apart from the servants. Those Tribbles had to go off to identify some body. Their housekeeper has been found murdered.’

  ‘Then all may not yet be lost,’ said Sir Jason. He looked at Ryan. ‘I will need to leave the country. I will be back here shortly.’ He moved to the door.

  ‘What about me?’ cried Lord Sandford.

  Sir Jason did not look at him. He looked at Mr Ryan instead.

  ‘Get rid of this fool,’ he said, and then he went out and shut the door behind him.

  Clarissa paced nervously up and down the drawing room. Night was falling and the Tribbles had still not returned. There was nothing for it. She would need to get the papers and go out and get help.

  Harris entered with a card on a tray. ‘Sir Jason Pym has called, miss.’

  ‘Enter first murderer,’ thought Clarissa wildly, remembering the story of the widow of Brighton.

  ‘Tell Sir Jason we are n
ot at home,’ she said firmly.

  When Harris had left, she sat down suddenly. Her knees were shaking.

  She would wait until he left, give him good time to get away, and then she would make her escape. If only there were someone she could trust. There was Yvette, but Yvette was so heavy with child she could barely move, and it would take ages to get some sense into Hubbard’s head. She thought of the household servants, but her frantic mind began to imbue them all with sinister features.

  She heard Harris mounting the stairs again and called, ‘Has he gone?’

  ‘Yes, miss,’ called Harris.

  ‘Then where are you going?’

  ‘I am calling all the staff down to the servants’ hall, miss. There has been a theft from the kitchen.’

  ‘A theft of what?’ called Clarissa with a hysterical edge to her voice. There was a silence, and then Harris’s voice came again. ‘A skillet, miss.’

  Clarissa waited. With all the servants in the hall down in the basement, she would be able to slip out of the house unnoticed. She would wait until she heard them descend, wait a little longer, and then go up to her room and get those papers.

  She felt very young and weak and helpless. She wanted her mother. She wanted the Earl of Greystone. She wanted the Tribbles.

  Harris could not get Yvette to move. She was lying on her bed, her face covered with a thin film of sweat. ‘I think my time has come,’ she said.

  The butler decided to leave her. There was only Hubbard to rouse and push, protesting, down the stairs.

  Grumbling, Hubbard went into the servants’ hall and then let out a scream. Sir Jason was standing at one end with a pistol levelled at the servants, who were huddled at the other. ‘Good,’ said Sir Jason. ‘Lock the area door and give me the key.’

  Whimpering with fright, Hubbard went to join the other servants.

  When Harris handed him the key, Sir Jason put it in his pocket and then backed away to the door of the servants’ hall. ‘Remember, all of you,’ he said. ‘One cry for help, one attempt to escape, and I will kill Miss Vevian first and then all of you.’

  He went out of the servants’ hall and locked them in, and then ran up the stairs.