The older woman waved a hand. “Oh, I sent him off, Emily. He was drinking the brandy, you know. And stealing the silver. Which isn’t even ours, as the house came furnished. And what we are going to tell the landlord is beyond me.”
But this was all too much for Philip. Bewildered he demanded, unable to suppress a frown, “Have you no other servants to open the door for you? Must you do so yourself, Miss Jarrod?”
“Of course we have other servants!” Miss Ashbourne said indignantly.
“Well, no, we don’t, Emily,” Miss Jarrod said, turning a bit pink herself.
Miss Ashbourne regarded her aunt with patent bewilderment. “Why not?” she asked.
“Pinkley took them with him when he left,” Miss Jarrod replied hotly. “He said that if I would not keep him on, he would not let me keep the others either. And I couldn’t, not when he was a thief! Oh, Emily, what are we to do? I went to an agency and asked them to send around some more servants right away, but they said they couldn’t promise anything and none have come.”
Miss Ashbourne went very pale. She closed her eyes for a moment and seemed to murmur something under her breath. Philip suspected it was as well that none of them could hear what she said.
Then Miss Ashbourne opened her eyes again and there was a kind of sad resignation in them as she said, “Come along, Aunt Agatha. We shall have to go and hire more servants. But meanwhile we must not stand on the front stoop providing entertainment for the entire street.”
It was as though she had forgotten him, Philip thought as he followed her inside. The moment the door closed behind him, however, he realized his mistake. Miss Ashbourne apparently only wished for a bit of privacy before she ripped up at him. And now she did so with a vengeance.
“Mr. Langford, I thank you for escorting me home and now you may go. I am very sorry to have troubled you and taken up your valuable time to no purpose. I shall not make such a mistake again.”
Good, Philip thought. The last thing he needed was such an odd creature, and her even odder aunt, complicating his existence. Which is why he was so surprised that, instead of turning and leaving, he took a step closer to her and said, “Let me hire some servants for you, Miss Ashbourne. I promise they shall be more reliable than the ones you’ve been saddled with, heretofore. They shan’t be thieves and they won’t desert you without a moment’s notice.”
She started to refuse and he knew he should let her, honor satisfied. Instead he spoke before she could even begin to frame a reply.
“Please, Miss Ashbourne! I assure you I know London far better than you do and any servants you try to engage will be the worst sort, for the agencies will think they can take advantage of you and your aunt.”
She wanted to refuse. He could read it in her eyes. But just as he had acted against what his common sense told him, so now did she act against what he saw in her face.
She took a deep breath and said, “I should be very grateful to you, Mr. Langford, if you would. I know I should not put myself under such an obligation to you. I know that I have troubled you far too much already. But I confess I am at my wit’s end and should be grateful to have your assistance. Only I must warn you, one reason we have this problem is that we cannot afford to pay these London servants as well as they seem to expect.”
Instantly Philip made his decision. She would have her servants and they would be reliable ones. And they would cost her no more than she could afford. She would also never know why that was so.
Afraid she might read something of his intentions in his eyes, he bowed and said, “I understand and will take that circumstance into account. And now you must excuse me. I had best go at once for I strongly suspect that if you wish dinner tonight there is no time to be lost.”
And then she smiled up at him, the sweetest, most wistful smile Philip had ever seen. Unlike the young misses who came to London each Season, she made no effort to hide her emotions. Indeed, her voice trembled as she thanked him.
“You are much too good, Mr. Langford, and I most deeply regret castigating you before.”
Because he didn’t know what to make of a woman who did not hide her true nature, Philip escaped without answering. Behind him he could hear Miss Jarrod ask, in a suspicious voice, “Where is he going, your young man, Emily? Oughtn’t you to invite him into the parlor? Mind, we would have to clear some books off of the chairs, but still one ought to make the effort.”
And as the door closed behind him, Philip just heard the beginning of Miss Ashbourne’s soothing reply.
“He will perhaps come another day, Aunt Agatha. He had an urgent appointment. Meanwhile, come and sit in the drawing room. I—”
Philip smiled to himself. No doubt she had said what she did only to pacify her aunt. But Miss Ashbourne would soon discover that her words were more correct than she guessed. He would call again and he would see this infamous parlor for himself. And then, perhaps, he could shake this odd spell Miss Ashbourne seemed to have cast over him.
God forfend any of his friends or worse, his brothers, should discover that he, Philip Langford, had undertaken to procure servants for a spinster like Miss Ashbourne!
Despite himself, he found himself wondering what she would do next, for he did not believe she would simply abandon her cause. Attempt to storm Parliament? She might if it were in session, but it was not.
Approach members of the House of Lords? She would get short shrift if she did. And while there were a number of men in the House of Commons who might be sympathetic to her cause, Philip could not, in good conscience, place her in their company. Indeed, he shuddered at the thought.
Still he could not believe, even with these obstacles before her, that Miss Ashbourne would give up. Not when she had the sort of passion that Sir Thomas was always telling him he ought to have. But he didn’t.
Suddenly Philip thought he understood why Sir Thomas had sent Miss Ashbourne to see him. Well, if he thought to influence Philip that way, he would soon find he was mistaken. If Miss Ashbourne’s behavior today was any indication of the foolishness one could be driven to by such passion as Sir Thomas was forever telling him he needed, Philip did not wish to have any part such a thing.
Abruptly Philip shook himself. It was absurd to waste any more time thinking about the young woman! He would help her find servants, but that was all. She was not his concern, even if Sir Thomas had sent her to him. And so he would tell his mentor when next he saw him. Miss Ashbourne’s father ought to be watching over her!
Philip paused, trying to recollect whether he had heard of any Mr. Ashbourne who was accounted a fierce reformer, but the name conjured up no such picture. Certainly he could not recall his father ever mentioning the man. Still, he must be, or how else would he come to have such a firebrand for a daughter? Philip shuddered and hoped he would never meet the fellow. One Ashbourne with a zeal for reform was far more than enough for his tastes.
He found himself wondering when Miss Ashbourne had come to London before and what havoc she had wreaked when she did so. He ought to have asked her, but that would only have served to strengthen the connection between them, something he was most eager to avoid.
Or so he thought. Still, he wondered. Perhaps James would know. He seemed to know all the on-dits, the crim con, and so forth. But only about the ton, Philip acknowledged. He was unlikely to know about one eccentric young woman who had probably never set foot in a ballroom in her life.
Sir Thomas. Yes, that was it. Once he had this matter of the servants taken care of, Philip would call upon Sir Thomas. His mentor could surely tell him everything there was to know, everything he ought to know about Miss Ashbourne. And when he was done, Philip would tell him just what he thought of his mentor for serving such a trick upon him!
* * * *
Emily knew only too well what sort of impression Aunt Agatha had made upon Mr. Langford. It happened all the time. Very few looked beyond the surface appearance to realize that the woman had a shrewd mind and sharp temper. Emily ofte
n thought her aunt cultivated such an appearance on purpose, for it served to put so many off the scent. She appeared harmless and sadly shatter-brained and so she was generally allowed to do precisely as she wished.
For if Aunt Agatha had one failing, it was a singular lack of resolution. It had caused her to do as she was told all her life. And while she might aid and abet her niece, secretly, in disobeying her father, she would never do so openly. Nor would she do so unless she could at least pretend to herself that she did not know what was going on.
Aunt Agatha was, Emily thought sadly, a woman torn between duty and rebellion. Unfortunately, duty almost always won. And so she pretended to a vacuity that was not real so that she would be left alone and could do as she wished.
Emily had no patience for such a pretense for herself and, today it rubbed her the wrong way that Mr. Langford had so easily been taken in by her aunt. Perhaps that was why she was so short with Aunt Agatha over the matter of how she had treated the fellow.
“I don’t understand,” Agatha said impatiently. “In my day a gentleman was always brought into the drawing room. And just where have you been? You know your father believes you to be here purchasing your wedding clothes. But nothing will make me believe that young man works for a modiste.”
“No, he does not!” Emily snapped at her aunt.
“Then why were you with him? It is not at all the thing,” Aunt Agatha protested.
Abruptly the defiance went out of Emily. She knew her aunt was doing her best to look out for her. “No, of course not,” she said soothingly. “At least not in general. But I encountered some incivility while I was out and Mr. Langford was kind enough to come to my aid. Besides, he is a friend of Sir Thomas Levenger and you know how unexceptionable he is!”
“Not to your father,” Miss Jarrod said dryly. She paused and peered near-sightedly at her niece but her voice was not in the least vague as she said, “What is going on, Emily?”
“Nothing.”
Agatha shook her head. “No, of course not. Nothing is going on. You are the picture of innocence, Emily, but it just won’t do. I know you far too well. You are evading my questions and I won’t have it.”
“Won’t you?” Emily countered, with a fond smile, for she knew her aunt very well. “Do you truly wish to know what I am about? If you did, you might have to tell Papa.”
That halted Aunt Agatha. She sighed. “I ought not to let you do this, Emily. But no one has ever been able to keep you in hand. I confess it is one of the things I like best about you and I am not about to begin to try now. Yes, you are right. I do not wish to know what is going on, after all. Just tell me that I may write to your father that your gowns are ordered and we expect to return shortly.”
Emily turned away and pretended to study the scene outside the window. As it was a particularly grim one, however, she fooled neither herself nor her Aunt Agatha.
“I am waiting, Emily.”
Over her shoulder, Miss Ashbourne debated how to answer her aunt. Finally she sighed and admitted, “No, Aunt Agatha, my gowns are not ordered. I saw nothing I liked this afternoon. I shall just have to try another day.”
And that was the truth, Emily told herself defensively. She hadn’t seen any gowns at all, and therefore none that she liked.
“Emily Ashbourne, you do intend to order your trousseau, do you not?” Aunt Agatha asked sternly.
This was the moment to admit that she did not. That indeed, she did not intend to be married at all. But somehow Emily could not bring herself to distress her dear aunt so deeply.
Instead, she said lightly, “You are so suspicious, you and Papa. I cannot understand why.”
“Because we know you only too well,” Agatha retorted tartly. “At least I do. I’ve no doubt your papa is still blissful in his belief that you will be the dutiful daughter and wed where he tells you. Though why he should think you would prove dutiful after twenty-three years of fighting him at every turn is beyond me.”
Emily smiled wistfully. “Papa believes that which he wishes to believe, that which is useful to him to believe. Even when it must go against all common sense.”
Now Agatha wailed. “I knew it! You have as good as admitted you are fooling your father. And what it will come to, I cannot say. He will blame me, I know he will. He will say I should have done better to keep you in hand and the worst of it is, he will be right.”
This was the time to remind Aunt Agatha that it was she who had given her niece Mary Wollstonecraft’s Vindication of the Rights of Women and other such books to read. Books that could not help but make Emily reluctant to value propriety more highly than it deserved. But such a reminder would only have distressed her aunt and she was right that Papa would blame Aunt Agatha.
That brought a pang of guilt to Emily. She turned and hugged her aunt. “It will all come about,” she promised. “Now, come, sit. Let me make some tea. I do hope Mr. Langford will be able to find us servants today. Reliable servants. I am growing very tired of having the household always at sixes and sevens.”
Perhaps because she, too, was skilled at self-deceit, Agatha Jarrod allowed herself to be persuaded, allowed herself to believe that perhaps everything would be all right, after all.
Chapter 4
Philip Langford never intended to set a spy in Miss Ashbourne’s household. Indeed, he would have recoiled at the thought of doing so deliberately.
But it proved far more difficult than he anticipated to find servants for the two ladies on such short notice. And in the end, he provided them with a butler by choosing one of his footmen and telling the fortunate fellow of the elevation of his status. The footman was puffed up with pride until he saw the establishment he was to rule over. And then it took all of Philip’s powers of persuasion, and a raise in salary, to get him to go in.
Which brought up another point. Somehow Philip had not realized just how expensive servants could be. Reliable servants, at any rate. To be sure, he had a staff of his own and he was vaguely aware of how much he disbursed each year paying them, he just had not thought about it, consciously, for some time.
Philip was uncomfortably aware that the two ladies almost certainly could not afford the staff he engaged on their behalf. And so he found himself promising to pay half their wages himself provided they gave not a hint to the ladies that he was doing so.
He was mad. That was the only possible explanation. Whatever had caused Miss Ashbourne’s derangement of mind must have infected him as well. Philip could think of no other reason he was behaving this way.
Well, the obvious solution was to keep as far away from Miss Ashbourne as possible and pray that his own fit of madness would soon run its course.
So why, then, was he driving up to their door, a few days later, in his brother’s borrowed phaeton, about to ask Miss Ashbourne if she wished to go out driving? He ought to be in chambers. Or running to ground Sir Thomas, who was proving exceedingly skillful at evading Philip.
Perhaps that was why he was short with the groom as he handed over the reins and climbed down. And perhaps that was why he rapped with unnecessary force on the front door. It was opened immediately by his former footman who looked taken aback.
“Sir?”
“Announce me, please,” Philip said shortly.
The fellow recovered quickly and motioned for Philip to wait while he went to discover if the ladies would see him.
As he stood in the foyer, Philip looked around, thinking the place looked even shabbier than it had a few days before. The dark paneling gave the foyer a gloomy feel and the furniture looked as though it was the mismatched cast-offs of a number of better endowed households.
Which only made Philip question his sanity even more for being here. Fortunately, he had only a short time for reflection before the former footman returned and said, “Miss Jarrod and Miss Ashbourne will be pleased to see you, if you will step this way.”
“Well done, Whiten,” Philip said softly. “I thought you would make a good butler.
”
The footman, now butler, did not reply. Still, he betrayed his gratification at the compliment by the way he colored up beet red above his collar.
The moment he entered the drawing room, however, Philip forgot his former servant. Instead he stood, gaping open mouthed at Miss Ashbourne while she blushed becomingly and Miss Jarrod looked from one to the other in patent approval. This time the older woman was wearing her eyeglasses, a circumstance for which he could only be grateful.
Still, the cause for Philip’s astonishment was Miss Ashbourne’s transformation from the shabby genteel young lady who had sat in his office a few days before to a young lady dressed in the first mode of fashion today. Or, rather, not precisely the first mode of fashion, for it was at least a year or two out of date, but it was sufficiently flattering to Miss Ashbourne that few would cavil at such a point.
Indeed he blinked as though to clear the image that could not possibly be real. Then she spoke, and the fashionable young lady was, once again, the sharp-tongued harpy he had met a few days before.
“Ought I to be flattered, Mr. Langford, that I am so transformed beyond recognition for you? Or insulted that you did not think me capable of looking like this?”
“Emily!” Miss Jarrod protested. “How can you speak so to Mr. Langford, after all his kindness to us? You know we should never have found such excellent servants on our own!”
Miss Ashbourne blushed again, but this time with patent mortification. Her voice was stiff as she said, “My aunt is right, Mr. Langford. Pray forgive my wretched tongue and accept our profound gratitude for finding us such an excellent staff. And with such dispatch.”
It was clearly a perverse flaw in his nature, Philip thought, that he found he preferred the impetuous Miss Ashbourne who said precisely what she thought, to this pale, albeit beautiful, imitation who parroted polite phrases at her aunt’s command.
Still, he was not such a fool to say so aloud. Instead he bowed to her and to Miss Jarrod and replied, in his cool, well-bred voice, “It was a mere trifle. I am pleased to have been of service.”
The Reckless Barrister Page 3