Daphne glanced up at Monette’s reflection in the mirror. ‘But you are not weeping for Mr Westleigh.’
The maid coloured. ‘No.’ She stepped back, her head bowed. ‘It is Toller I miss the most.’
‘Toller?’ Daphne had had no idea.
‘We became friends.’ Monette glanced up at her. ‘Remember when we went to the village together and I asked you about women and men?’
‘I remember.’ She’d thought Monette, who’d grown up amongst celibate women, had been trying to figure out Daphne’s relationship with Hugh.
‘I was talking about Toller. I liked him very much, but in a different way than I liked Mary and Ann.’
‘I see.’ She understood that different way only too well.
‘And I miss him!’ Monette burst into tears.
Daphne left her chair and held the maid in her arms, like the abbess had once held her. What else did she know of comforting? ‘There, there.’ She felt as if Monette’s pain were hers. It was all she could do to keep from weeping herself.
‘I wish Toller were here!’ Monette wailed.
‘I could send for him.’ The words were out of her mouth before she even thought of them. ‘I could send a letter to Thurnfield and ask if he would like to come work for me here. Would you like that?’
Monette pulled away, a huge smile on her face. ‘Oh, yes!’
Daphne walked over to her bureau and pulled out a handkerchief. She handed it to Monette. ‘I will write the letter this very day.’
* * *
Daphne finished the letter to Toller, posting it in care of Mr Brill, the leasing agent in Thurnfield, who she knew would put it into the young man’s hands.
She soon heard a carriage. No doubt Everard had arrived.
She stood and straightened her spine. She could face him, this man she’d so misused. If she could face the pain of leaving Hugh, she could face anything.
Carter soon announced him and Everard walked in the drawing room.
‘My lady.’ His voice cracked. ‘It—it is a privilege to call on you.’
She extended her hand to him. ‘Everard. I am delighted to see you.’ It was not precisely true, but she’d not forgotten how to sound sincere.
He took her hand and merely squeezed her fingers.
Carter waited at the door.
‘Would you bring some tea, Carter?’ She turned to Everard. ‘Or do you wish to rest from your journey?’
‘I would be grateful for tea,’ he replied. ‘I will rest later at the inn.’
‘The inn?’ She signalled Carter to bring the tea. ‘I will not hear of it. You must stay here. I have a room ready for you.’
‘Here?’ Everard looked about, as if the drawing room were where he would be sleeping. ‘I do not wish to put you to any trouble on my behalf.’
‘Nonsense!’ she retorted. ‘You will be no trouble and it will make conducting our business so much easier.’
‘Very well.’ He bowed. ‘I do thank you.’
She asked questions about his health and he asked about hers and she wondered when he would start to scold her for lavishing so much of her capital on improvements for the tenants and the workers.
He waited until they settled down with tea. ‘As you know, there was great concern about your decision to deplete your capital.’
‘I hardly depleted it,’ she countered.
‘Forgive me.’ He inclined his head. ‘An unfortunate choice of words. Diminish, I meant. I fear you might not comprehend how these matters work. Once you spend the capital, you cannot get it back. It is best to leave the capital in the four per cents and other investments and live on the income.’
‘I do understand, Everard.’ She continued to use her charming voice. ‘But a great deal of money was required, and I still have plenty in the investments, do I not? One would still call me a wealthy widow, would they not?’
‘You do have plenty of capital,’ he admitted. ‘But it is imperative that you do not pull it out for frivolous spending.’
‘For improvements to the farm buildings?’ She made herself laugh. ‘Is property not the best investment?’ She smiled and looked directly into his eyes. ‘My husband always said so.’
He blushed and noisily stirred his tea. ‘You know I dislike countering your judgement in any way, my dear lady, but after your husband died, I pledged to make certain your welfare was protected in all ways.’
It was her turn to feel the heat of shame tinge her cheeks. The man was devoted to her. It was why he’d agreed to accompany her to the Masquerade Club. It had not occurred to her that he would see her purpose in any manner different than her own. She’d assumed she and Xavier should be together because they made such a pretty-looking couple. Everard must have thought her foolish and frivolous, and she had behaved shabbily by making the poor man come with her night after night. She’d never considered that he must have had to work during the day.
She lowered her gaze and dropped her charming voice. ‘I am very grateful to you for it.’
He pulled at his neckcloth. ‘As you can imagine, I was quite concerned about your travel to the Continent and your—your extended stay in Switzerland—’
He’d known she’d stayed in a convent. He had written concerned letters to her to return to society, as well as letters pertaining to business, of course. She’d written back, assuring him that she was doing well and trusting him to take care of matters in her absence. He’d been the only person with whom she’d corresponded.
‘My stay in Switzerland was good for me,’ she told him.
He looked embarrassed again. ‘I have no doubt...’ He quickly drank some tea.
She handed him a plate of biscuits. ‘If you are up to it after our tea, I will have Mr Quigg, my estate manager, take you on a tour of the property and show you where the money is being spent, then we can discuss the matter further.’
She knew he would not refuse. Everard never refused anything she asked of him.
* * *
Daphne did not see Everard again until dinner.
After the soup was served, she asked in her charming tone, ‘So what did you think of how my money is being spent?’
He slurped soup from his spoon before answering, ‘I cannot argue with what you have done except to say you might have been a bit extravagant.’
She lifted a disapproving brow. ‘Oh?’
He sputtered. ‘I mean—I confess to being surprised at your exceptional generosity to your workers and tenants. You might have confined your spending to essential repairs only, and you need not have lowered the rents and increased the salaries.’
In other words, he valued money over the comfort of those people on whom the prosperity of the estate depended. Once she might have agreed—or, rather, she would not have given the people one moment of thought.
She dipped her spoon into her soup. ‘What did Mr Quigg say about it?’
He lifted his shoulders. ‘He spoke with ebullience about all that you have done, saying it was a long time coming.’ He frowned. ‘But I must be concerned for your welfare. You must not give your fortune away.’
Why not? So far, being generous had helped her feel she’d atoned for her selfishness. She’d never experienced that sort of satisfaction purchasing jewels or clothing or any such thing. And he had never scolded her for throwing away her money at the gaming tables of the Masquerade Club.
But to argue this point with Everard would certainly distress him. Discussing the Masquerade Club would distress her.
She favoured him with one of her most amiable smiles. ‘If you will but indulge me these whims from time to time, I promise you, I will trust you to warn me if I ever spend too much.’
He flushed. ‘I am ever your faithful servant.’
Carter and a footman—named F
inn, Daphne had learned—served the next course and she and Everard spoke in more detail about the improvements. Everard did not presume to do anything but praise the work she had approved, and the time passed more pleasantly.
When the apple tart was served and more wine poured and the conversation about the estate exhausted, Daphne groped for other topics to discuss. ‘What of you, Mr Everard? Tell me how you are faring. What is happening in your life?’
‘Me?’ He flushed again. ‘I am doing well enough. Business is tolerably good.’
‘I am delighted to hear it.’ She’d not thought of it before. He must have other clients to assist. She knew very little of him, she realised. ‘And—and do you have family? I suddenly am aware that I do not know. I am sorry for never asking before.’
His eyes widened in surprise. ‘Why should you ask, my lady?’ He sipped his wine. ‘But, as a matter of fact, I have taken a wife in this last year.’
‘You are married?’ She loved the idea that this sweet man might have found the happiness that escaped her. ‘How wonderful for you! Tell me about your wife.’
He answered in a serious tone. ‘She comes from a good family. Her father is in banking and that is how we met.’
‘No,’ she scolded. ‘Tell me about her! Is she pretty? Is she accomplished?’ Goodness. Those were Daphne’s own qualities. They might have made her a desirable wife, if not a very good person.
He lifted his gaze to her. ‘She is not beautiful like you.’
Oh, dear. Certainly she did not intend to go in that direction.
She waved a dismissive hand. ‘But is she pretty?’
Do you love her? Do you love her as I have loved Hugh, with every inch of your body and soul?
He glanced away. ‘I think her very handsome and sensible.’
Poor Mrs Everard.
She made herself smile again. ‘I am very happy for you.’
In fact, she should give him a raise in salary. If he was supporting a wife now, he could use a raise. That idea comforted her. It was another good deed she could perform.
But she feared being taken into further confidence about Everard’s marriage, since he described his wife as handsome and sensible. ‘Tell me news of London,’ she asked instead.
To her surprise, his countenance became very serious. ‘I quite understand.’
He understood she wished to change the subject? Why this intensity?
‘I do not know very much, you understand, merely what I have heard people say and what has been written in the newspapers.’ He drained the remainder of his wine down his throat.
Goodness. She was merely hoping for general gossip or what debates were consuming Parliament or what was being performed at the Royal Opera House.
Carter and Finn removed their dishes and put a fresh cloth on the table. Fruit and biscuits appeared and port wine was poured.
Everard continued after the food was served. ‘The gentleman of whom you wish I would speak—’ did he mean Xavier? No, she did not wish him to speak of Xavier ‘—did marry the Earl of Westleigh’s daughter—’
‘Yes, I knew this,’ she broke in.
His brows rose. ‘He no longer runs the club. Did you know that? Rhysdale returned to run it. People say your gentleman has turned into a shop owner, but I do not know the truth of that.’
She had no right to care what Xavier did. She had no right to even speak of him. ‘I—I gather the Masquerade Club was repaired at my expense?’
‘Oh, yes.’ He chewed on a biscuit. ‘It is as prosperous as ever, they say, although the masked pianiste does not play there anymore.’
Of course not. She was married and bore a child.
‘That is excellent,’ she said too brightly.
‘Although I read just the other week that the new Lord Westleigh’s younger brother has taken over the managing of the club. Apparently the Westleighs were partners in the enterprise all along.’
Daphne felt as if the air had been knocked out of her lungs. ‘Younger brother?’ she managed. Her heart beat faster.
Hugh!
He nodded and took a sip of port. ‘The old Lord Westleigh, the scandalous one, died suddenly and his older son inherited. Did you know of that?’
With difficulty she kept a pleasant expression on her face. ‘Yes. I heard of that.’
He prattled on. ‘So when I said the new Lord Westleigh, I meant the older son. The younger son recently returned from the Continent. Their father left his affairs in a terrible mess and the younger son was sent to settle them.’ He picked up another biscuit. ‘So when I said younger brother, I meant it is Hugh Westleigh who now manages the Masquerade Club.’
* * *
Hugh.
Her mind raced the whole evening, thinking of him. She barely made it through tea in the drawing room after dinner and was relieved to be free of the obligation to make conversation when she noticed Mr Everard tiring.
‘Dear Mr Everard.’ She could at least hide her swirl of emotions behind charm. ‘I hope you will forgive me. I am greatly fatigued and would beg you excuse me for the night.’
The relief on his face was immediate. ‘Yes. Yes. I will retire, as well. I must head back to London in the morning.’ He stood and offered his hand to help her stand.
She accepted it, but kept her distance from him as they walked out of the drawing room into the hall.
When he reached the stairs, she stepped back. ‘I must speak with my housekeeper for a minute, so I will bid you goodnight here.’ It was not true, of course.
He looked relieved again. ‘Goodnight, my lady.’ He spoke formally and bowed correctly. That reassured her.
‘Goodnight, sir.’ She released a breath and turned to the door of the servants’ wing, but did not open it. Instead, she leaned against the wall and waited, listening to his footsteps recede as he mounted the stairs.
Hugh.
She was free to think of him again.
Tears stung her eyes. Hugh, you are not blind! He could not be blind. If he was blind, how would he be able to manage a gaming house where the job was to watch everything and everyone? But why are you not on some exciting voyage somewhere? What happened to change his plans?
She closed her eyes and remembered the Masquerade Club. She imagined him there walking through the rooms like Xavier had done, speaking to the patrons, watching everything. He would look magnificent in formal clothes, circulating among guests both masked and unmasked. She could not imagine his face precisely. She could only remember him bandaged.
If she saw him she would know him, though. She’d recognised him during the fire after all. But she longed to gaze at him at length, see every detail, discover the colour of his eyes, reassure herself that he was indeed as strong and robust as she remembered. If she only had a chance to memorise all of him, she’d hold that memory for the rest of her days.
Her heart started pounding. The Masquerade Club was the one place she could see him! It was perhaps the only place she could see him.
At the Masquerade Club she could wear a mask. Nobody would know her.
It felt like her heart would burst, she was so excited. She opened the door and hurried down the servants’ staircase in search of Carter.
Mr Everard would have company on the road to London.
* * *
The next morning Daphne made certain she was at breakfast with Mr Everard.
When he entered the breakfast room, set up in a sunny sitting room not far from the formal dining room, he looked pleased. ‘My lady, I did not expect to see you about so early.’
She smiled at him. ‘I wanted to be certain to see you first thing.’
The man blushed.
She went on. ‘You see, I have decided to go to London, as well. Just for a few days. So you do not have to take the public
coach. You may ride with my maid and me.’
His brows rose. ‘You are travelling to London? This is sudden.’
‘Indeed, it is very impulsive, I admit.’ She fluttered her eyes. ‘Please choose your food. I hope Cook has prepared something you will like.’
He filled his plate from the sideboard and sat in a chair across from hers. ‘Please do not feel compelled to time your travel around my need. I do not mind the public coach.’
She nibbled on a piece of toasted bread and raspberry jam. ‘It is no trouble to me at all.’
The footman Finn attended them and poured Everard a cup of hot tea.
He nodded his thanks and turned to Daphne again. ‘If I travel ahead of you, I can make certain your house is ready to receive you.’
‘It is not necessary,’ she assured him. ‘I have already dispatched a messenger. We will not require much on arrival.’
He frowned. ‘My lady, why the urgency to visit London?’
‘No urgency.’ Except she could not bear to wait. She was convinced that seeing Hugh vital, fit and sighted would finally settle the unrest inside her. ‘I—I merely discovered that I had a great desire to visit London after hearing you speak of it and it seemed silly to send you in a public coach when we could use my carriage.’
His gaze turned sceptical. ‘My lady, may I speak with frankness?’
She was certain she did not wish to hear this, but she nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘Did my speaking of—of that certain gentleman in London precipitate this decision?’ His voice was concerned. ‘Because I must advise you not to attempt a meeting with him.’
A certain gentleman, yes. But not Xavier. ‘Not at all, Mr Everard. I have no plans to attempt a meeting with him.’ In fact, if she thought he would be in attendance at the gaming house, she would hesitate to go there, even masked. He’d recognise her at once, even with a mask.
There was a knock on the door and Monette entered, looking very distressed. ‘Forgive the interruption, my lady, but I cannot find the masks you wished me to pack. They were not in the drawer in your wardrobe.’
Monette’s timing was unfortunate. Daphne had not intended to inform Everard of her plans to visit the Masquerade Club. ‘Perhaps the masks are in a trunk. Have one of the maids show you where the trunks are stored, but do not fuss too much. We can purchase what we need in London.’ Her old masks would need to be altered anyway. She wanted her whole face covered so that there was no chance anyone would recognise her.
A Lady of Notoriety (The Masquerade Club) Page 15