by M C Beaton
“Your first duty, of course, Miss Winters, should be to consider marriage to some suitable man who will take the reins from your hands. The fair sex,” he said with a comic little bow in her direction, “were not put on this earth to run businesses or estates or anything of that nature. It is the duty of every woman to be the guiding light of some gentleman and fill his nursery with children.”
“Oh, I suppose so,” said Emily fretfully. It was certainly unheard of in her small and inexperienced world that a woman should do anything of an administrative nature. “But my duty, my duty. Have I no duty to myself?”
“Duty can be pleasurable,” said Mr. Summers. “Balls and assemblies and routs are the… hem… natural overture to marriage. Come, Miss Winters, you are an attractive young lady! Surely you wish to go to balls and parties?”
“I suppose so,” said Emily. “But what of my birth? Surely the high sticklers in Bath will look down their long noses at me!”
“There is no reason why anyone should know that you were not born in wedlock. Miss Manley and Mr. James Manley do not wish such a fact about their brother to come to light. Mrs. Singleton can be advised to keep silent, and the Misses Kiplings. I have no doubt the Kiplings will shortly find an excuse to come on a visit once they have received my letter with the terms of the will.”
“And no doubt they will all try to kill Duke.”
“I have no doubt,” said Mr. Summers. “I should certainly try to kill the animal myself if he stood between me and a fortune in diamonds. He is only a dog, and a very ill-favored one at that.”
“Duke is like me—a mongrel,” said Emily, experiencing the first twinges of loyalty to the dog. “I think I shall consider your kind offer, Mr. Summers. It might be as well to remove myself—and Duke—as far from Manley Court as possible. But,” she added, “give me until tomorrow to make up my mind. Now, I shall need to know how to go about getting funds to buy clothes and such things.”
“Certainly, Miss Winters. If you will join me at this table, I will explain to you how you go about obtaining funds….”
After a grueling two hours, Emily left the library with her head spinning. Apart from a fortune in ready money, she not only owned Manley Court but a town house in St. James’s and a shooting box in Yorkshire and property in the City of London itself.
She went quickly upstairs to her room. A gust of wind slashed rain against the window. Thaw. If it continued to rain like this all night, then Lord Storm would be gone in the morning.
Her body ached in a most peculiar way at the memory of his kisses. But he had kissed her and held her, despite the fact that he did not want to. Slowly Emily began to experience a heady feeling of power.
She sat down in front of the looking glass, noticing the sheen of her heavy black hair and the wide depths of her blue eyes for the first time.
Why go to Bath? she mused. It would be much more fun to stay here and tame Lord Storm. With any luck, Clarissa and Harriet would keep to their rooms and she would be able to dine alone with him.
But both Clarissa and Harriet were present in the drawing room with Lord Storm when Emily entered. Harriet went on as if Emily did not exist, and Clarissa talked exclusively to Lord Storm, her large eyes caressing him. And Lord Storm?
He looked at Clarissa as if she were the only woman in the world. Ignoring Emily’s prior claim, he led Clarissa to dinner. They laughed and chatted about plays Emily had never seen, music she had never heard, and people she had never met.
Clarissa had dropped her former show of friendliness to Emily. It was obvious she was feeling very sure of her powers of attraction.
Emily sat silent and miserable. Lord Storm had not meant anything by his caresses. He looked at that moment as if the only woman he wanted to kiss was Clarissa Singleton.
For one brief second he raised his eyes and looked at Emily from under hooded lids. She flushed like a schoolgirl and looked at her plate.
How Emily longed to smile and be witty and sparkle. But what could she talk about? The weather? The girls at the orphanage?
At last the weary meal dragged to its close, and the ladies retired to leave his lordship to enjoy his wine in solitary splendor.
Lord Storm sat twisting his glass around and around in his fingers. He knew he had behaved very badly, but Miss Emily Winters was in need of a set-down. He had to admit to himself that she had made his pulses race in a most uncomfortable way. But she was little more than a schoolgirl and quite unsuitable. With any luck, the roads would be clear, and, when he saw her again, if he saw her again, it would be at some county affair where he would be obliged only to be distantly polite to her. For a moment he remembered the happy, smiling girl he had taken driving and how the frozen waterfall had burned in the sun.
He resolutely put the picture from his mind. He had been momentarily seduced because of the proximity forced on them by the storm.
But when he finally entered the drawing room and she was not there, he felt a stab of disappointment and behaved very formally and correctly to Clarissa, who endured his chilly manners for quite half an hour before asking him when they could expect a visit from his friend Mr. Harris.
A violent rainstorm during the night did much to clear the roads, and Lord Storm estimated he could safely reach his home on horseback. He would have his carriage sent over when the weather grew better.
He sent his compliments to Miss Winters by Rogers, requesting to see her for a few moments to say goodbye.
But after what seemed like a very long time, Rogers returned with the intelligence that Miss Winters sent her compliments to his lordship and her best wishes for a speedy and safe journey, but begged to be excused.
Later, John Harris reflected he had never seen his friend in quite such a temper. All Lord Storm would say on his return was that he was well quit of Manley Court and never wanted to see any of them again.
John wisely let matters rest, deciding to ride over to Manley Court at the first opportunity to find out how matters stood for himself.
Chapter 5
“I am not suggesting we plunge into a life of eternal dissipation, my dear Miss Winters,” said Lady Bailey, “I am only suggesting something a tiny bit more lively than taking that reprehensible mongrel for walks. He bit my poor footman, John, in the calf the other day, which caused a terrible commotion—not to mention the price of a new pair of silk stockings.”
“I’m sorry, Lady Bailey,” said Emily wanly. “I am not much company for you, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, any company is better than my own,” said her ladyship. “But do consider how dull it is for me, my dear, and make some push to be gay.”
Lady Bailey was about seventy, but very small, very quick, and very spry. Emily had been resident with her for nearly three months. At first, Lady Bailey had been delighted to go about with Emily to all the dressmakers and milliners and mantua makers, but after Emily had amassed a quite considerable wardrobe of pretty clothes, she had seemed determined not to show them off at any social occasion.
In despair, Lady Bailey had invited the grandchildren of her old friends, who were all about Emily’s age, to a musical evening. But Emily had pleaded the headache and had gone to her room.
Spring had, it seemed, flown over the hills during the night and had arrived in Bath at last, a warm frivolous wind tugging fleecy clouds across the sky and sending skirts and parasols twirling.
Bath was no longer in its heyday, but the predominant desire was still to “cut a dash.” Everything seemed to have turned into bustle and gaiety with the advent of the warm weather, and spring had also flown into Lady Bailey’s old bones and made her long for crowds and gossip.
Lady Bailey had questioned Emily closely about Manley Court and its occupants and had at last elicited the information that Lord Storm had been a guest By Emily’s blush and by the way the girl seemed anxious not to mention his lordship’s name, Lady Bailey thought she had at last discovered Emily’s problem.
And so, on this bright sunny m
orning, with the daffodils dancing in the square outside and the windows open to let in the sweet air, Lady Bailey moved directly to the attack.
“I want to talk about Bartholomew Storm,” she said abruptly, her sharp black eyes in her wrinkled face noticing the telltale blush spreading up Emily’s cheeks.
“You mentioned he was a house guest at Manley Court. It is a good thing you are such a sensible girl or I would think you had fallen madly in love with him like so many other silly little girls.”
“Many?” queried Emily faintly.
“Oh, dear me, yes. A terrible rake was Storm before he went to the wars, and I doubt his experiences have changed him any. A terrible rake, my dear, and quite ruthless with women. Not, mind you, that he ever bothered himself with any of our debutantes. But quite a tragedy happened. His mother, Honoria, came to take the waters once, just before he joined the army, and Storm came to Bath with her.
“He danced very prettily at the assemblies and promptly set up a liaison with a certain lady whose bloodline was as excellent as her morals were bad. But there was this charming young debutante, Cecily Manning, who fell madly in love with him. Not that he did anything to encourage her that anyone could see, but he did not exactly do anything to discourage her either. And so this Cecily built it up in her mind that he was really madly enamored of her but could not do anything about it because he was in the clutches of his mistress. So the silly thing sneaked herself into his house one night and hid in his bedchamber. Well, fortunately for her, he did not come home that night, but she was discovered by the servants and her parents were sent for and there was a terrible to-do and scandal.”
“And what happened to Cecily?”
“Well, the Mannings were Roman Catholic, so they simply tucked her away in a convent, which all goes to show how very useful the Catholic religion can be. But that is the trouble with silly little girls. They have only to clap eyes on a hardened rake and they convince themselves that they are the very ones to reform him. Now isn’t that stoopid?”
“Very,” said Emily in a colorless voice.
“And I really hope he does not show that devilishly handsome face here again, because it’s just like a fox getting into the hen coop. Such a fluttering and screeching. I heard Honoria is to come to take the waters, but she does not approve of her son at all, and she blamed him publicly. Will Lord Storm—if he comes—be surprised to find you living like a nun, I wonder?”
Lady Bailey noticed the sudden flash in Emily’s eyes with satisfaction, so she rattled on, “Of course, you must make up your mind to leaving Duke behind. You simply cannot start taking that animal to balls. I know you are afraid for his life. But none of the people who hope to inherit the diamonds is present in Bath. He will do very well with the servants.”
Emily’s soft mouth folded into a rebellious line. “I could not possibly enjoy myself knowing Duke to be a prey to every danger. I would rather hire a burly guard especially to take care of the animal.”
“Oh, very well,” said Lady Bailey. “You know, you hate those Manleys so much that you don’t even want the hound to die a natural death. But the fault lies not all on the Manley side but on your own.”
“I?” Emily stared. “I have done nothing.”
“No?” queried Lady Bailey with a lift of her false eyebrows. “Only think. Sir Peregrine chooses to bring a girl from an orphanage into his home without so much as a by-your-leave. Then he goes and leaves his entire estate to this girl, who turns out to be his daughter. I feel quite sorry for the Manleys.”
“They were very unkind to me before Sir Peregrine’s death,” said Emily in a low voice.
“Of course they were,” said Lady Bailey robustly. “You carry around with you that air of meek innocence. Enough to turn anyone cruel. You must not appear so vulnerable. Try to be a little haughty. Tilt your chin so, and look down your nose.” Duke, who had come to life during the proceedings, suddenly lifted his head in a grotesque parody of Lady Bailey and looked down his nose.
Emily burst out laughing. “That’s better,” said Lady Bailey. “If you cannot achieve hauteur, then some animation will do nicely. ’Tis such a monstrous funny thing, but do you know that at one time I actually thought you were pining for Storm? La! How foolish of me. But that was before I knew you for the sensible young lady you are.”
And having pinned Emily with that final shaft, Lady Bailey arose and shook out the skirts of her taffeta gown. “I shall send John to you and you may ask him if he would like to take on the extra duty of guarding Duke. If he will not, ask him to get you someone.”
When the energetic old lady had bustled off, Emily moved to a chair by the open window and looked out at the sunny square. Green leaves shifted and turned and glinted like enamel in the sun and the wind. The terrible winter was over and the world was young again.
It was not that she was in love with Lord Storm, thought Emily. The pain at her heart was because he had humiliated her first socially and then as a woman.
Lady Bailey was right. She would not hide away. Thoughts came tumbling one after the other through her mind like the great white clouds tumbling across the pale-blue sky above. She, Emily, had made absolutely no move to assert herself before she left Manley Court. Harriet still took the head of the table, ordered the meals, and directed the household. And it’s my house! she thought with growing rebellion. Harriet was not in the least conciliatory to me, because she thinks I am too spineless to put her out. Well, I shall cut my social teeth in Bath and learn some poise, and then let Miss Harriet Manley beware!
The door opened, and John, one of Lady Bailey’s footmen, came in. “You wanted to see me, miss?”
Emily nodded and outlined her plan for the guardianship of Duke. A look of ludicrous dismay crossed the footman’s face. Like quite a number of servants, he was more snobbish than his mistress. Pictures of walking that ugly mongrel while James, his rival next door, walked Lord Bellamy’s exquisite poodle did not bear thinking of.
“I am not at all good with animals, miss,” he said, tugging nervously at his claret-and-silver livery.
“It would be extra wages for you, of course,” pointed out Emily.
For one minute, the footman’s eyes brightened, but then they fell on the black-and-gold lump of fur that was Duke, and he sighed. “No, miss, I don’t want to seem unobliging, but me and dogs never see eye to eye.”
“Then you can suggest one of the servants?”
John’s face cleared with relief. “Certainly, miss. I will send someone to you directly.”
Emily waited and waited. Two young misses and their maids walked along outside, muslin skirts fluttering in the spring wind. A smart phaeton pulled up and two gentlemen raised their hats. The girls curtsied and giggled.
That was youth out there, thought Emily. All set for flirtations and love letters and hopes and fears of marriage. And here she was, still seventeen, and already older in her manner than Lady Bailey.
The door opened and a small boy was pushed in. He could not have been more than twelve. He had a round, red, scrubbed face and hair that stuck up all over his head like a porcupine’s quills. He looked as if he had just been subjected to a scrubbing under the pump, which indeed he had.
“This here is Jimmy Jenkins, knife boy and pot scrubber to her ladyship,” the footman said. “He’s eager to look after the dog, miss.” And with that, John gave the knife boy another shove into the center of the room and then made his escape.
Jimmy stood with his hands behind his back, looking at the pattern of twisting dragons on the oriental rug. Emily looked at the lad.
“How old are you, Jimmy?” she asked.
“Thirteen, please, miss.”
“You look younger.”
“I’m small for me age, please, miss.”
“Well, Jimmy,” said Emily doubtfully, “I shall tell you a story about Duke. Duke is my dog. Sir Peregrine Manley died and left a fortune in diamonds to this dog. If anything should happen to the dog, then a number of
greedy Manley relatives will get their hands on that fortune. Now, I cannot be with Duke every minute of the day, and I want someone to guard him at all times. You do not look very strong.” She hesitated. “It would be necessary to take you away from your kitchen duties, but… oh, I really do think a full-grown man would be better!”
“If you please, miss,” said Jimmy dismally. For one brilliant sunny moment, Jimmy’s future had seemed to stretch out golden and blissful before him. And now it was snatched away.
Emily felt a pang of pity as she looked at the boy’s bent head. In a way he was like Duke, scrubby and ill favored. Perhaps she could make him a page. It seemed such a shame to send him back to the kitchens.
Then Duke arose from his comfortable sleep beside the fire. He stretched and looked around. His close-set eyes became fixed on the boy who stood miserably in the middle of the room. Slowly Duke’s tail began to wag. To Emily’s amazement, Duke ambled across the room and reared himself up, placed his paws on Jimmy’s shoulders, and licked his face.
It was too much for Jimmy. He was genuinely fond of animals and thought the dog was trying to comfort him, and so he put his arms around Duke and buried his scrubbed red face in Duke’s rough coat and cried and cried. And Duke, sensing the distress of his new friend, threw back his head and began to howl dismally. The noise was terrible.
“Stop it, both of you!” shouted Emily with her hands to her ears. “Yes, yes, yes, Jimmy, you may have the job. Duke obviously likes you.”
Jimmy raised a tear-stained, glowing face. Duke stopped howling. Both of them stared at Emily. Both had close-set, small eyes with a wary look.
“Now, Jimmy,” said Emily severely, “I think you should start your duties right away. Send Dayton, the butler, to me. We must discuss with him the change in position.” She looked at his ragged knee breeches, which had once done service for a fully grown man and were now hitched up somewhere around Jimmy’s dirty neck cloth. “And I think you should have new clothes.”