Verity

by Liese Anning

  Chapter 18

  'Miss Stanford,' she heard a man whisper, 'wake up.'

  Verity opened her eyes slowly. She remembered going to sleep curled up next to James on the love seat by the fire, but she had no recollection of how she got onto the bed. She blinked several times, as her eyes became accustomed to the light from a couple of candles, and then she propped herself up on her elbows. James was no longer wearing just his shirt and breeches; he was now immaculately dressed. His hair that only a few hours ago, had been tousled and unkempt was now styled in the latest fashion; his face that had been dark with stubble was now cleanly shaven. Even the shadows under his eyes that had darkened his face only a few hours ago had almost vanished. He was now Colonel Mitford once more.

  'We have to get you back home before dawn,' he said as he stood by the bed, 'the maid is here and will help you dress.'

  'Thank you,' she said drowsily, as she sat up and discarded the blanket.

  Within ten minutes, Verity was sitting next to James in the same carriage that, only hours before, she had used to arrive at his lodgings. They had barely said a word to each other since he had woken her and told her to get dressed, but as they moved through the cobbled streets, there was an atmosphere between them. The carriage was narrow, and even though they barely touched, she could still feel his presence.

  'Miss Stanford,' he said, at last. Verity was disappointed he did not use her given name. It was as though he was starting to build a barrier between them once more, 'I must apologise for last night. I was tired and...'

  Verity interrupted him. 'Well,' she said firmly, 'I am not in the least bit sorry. I know it is not at all ladylike to admit it, and you will probably think that I am a hoyden, but I enjoyed our kiss. I enjoyed it a great deal. It was my first kiss, and I am glad it was with you. And, if it happens to be my last...'

  James intervened, 'trust me,' he said with authority, 'it will not be your last.'

  He turned to her and cupped her chin with his hand. I would like to kiss you once more if you allow me?' Verity nodded her consent. In anticipation of his touch, the now familiar warmth pooled deep within the core of her body, and she felt a frisson down her spine. He bent down and touched her lips with his. Even though this kiss lacked the vigorous passion, the previous one had evoked, there was something glorious about it. It was incredibly tender, and it awoke in her a new, more intense emotion. A feeling she could not explain, or control.

  As the carriage came to a standstill, he finished the kiss and moved away from her. 'Verity, you must go. If you stay here any longer, I will...' He stopped abruptly and opened the carriage door.

  She desperately wanted to ask him what he would do, but deep down she knew what it was because she felt the same. Verity now realised; she loved him. After six and twenty years, she finally discovered what a powerful emotion love could be between a man and a woman, and she was beginning to understand her sister's feelings towards Ellington.

  He alighted from the carriage and helped her down. He kissed her lips gently and said, 'remember your promise. You will accept the Countess of Wrexham's invitation to tea tomorrow.'

  Verity nodded, 'yes, James, I will.'

  With that Verity turned around and began to run towards the school.

  ✽✽✽

  'Come in,' came the rather stern voice of Madame DuPont.

  Verity, full of trepidation, opened the door and went into her spacious office. There were crates, in various stages of packing, strewn across the floor. The normally ordered office was unusually chaotic.

  'Please sit down, Miss Stanford, and do mind the packing,’ she said as she motioned to a chair.

  Madame DuPont had decided to shut the girls' school and return to England with her young sons. Her husband would stay to look after the boys' school, and the empty buildings, while she took a long overdue visit to her family in Yorkshire.

  'Miss Stanford,' she said at last, 'I have had two rather odd letters this morning. The first, I want to discuss with you, was from Miss Jones.'

  Verity looked up. 'Miss Jones?' she said puzzled.

  When Verity had arrived back last night, Maisie's bed was empty. And, the following morning, when Verity went downstairs for breakfast, her good friend had still not made an appearance. Verity had decided she had better not say anything to Madame DuPont, regarding Maisie's disappearance. She thought that Maisie could return, at any moment, and she did not want to get her good friend into trouble after she had been so kind to her.

  'Yes, Miss Jones,' Madame DuPont repeated. 'She informs me that a member of her family has summoned her home and she left early this morning. But, do you not think it a little odd?' Madame DuPont then added, 'I was always under the impression that Miss Jones had no family.' She placed the letter down and removed her spectacles and placed them carefully on her desk. 'The letter goes on to say that she would like us to pack her trunk and send it to her. There are detailed instructions in the letter for forwarding her belongings.'

  'Oh,' Verity muttered.

  'Did you hear her leave?' Madame DuPont said, looking suspiciously at Verity. 'Never mind,' she said in frustration when no answer was forthcoming, 'the pair of you have been as thick as thieves over the past week, and to be honest with you I am far too busy to care. What she does with her life is her affair.'

  Verity could see that Madame DuPont was angry, but she wanted to know about the contents of the other letter. 'What about the other letter?' she asked curiously.

  'That is just as vexing,' Madame DuPont said, shaking her head. 'How do you know the Countess of Wrexham?'

  'I met her with...'

  Madame DuPont intervened once more, 'never mind,' she said, holding up her hand, 'I do not wish to know.' Madame DuPont rustled the letter, picked up her spectacles and perched them on the end of her nose and then began to read the missive. 'The Countess of Wrexham requests the company of Miss Verity Stanford for tea at three o'clock this afternoon; etcetera, etcetera. You can read the rest for yourself. Why the Countess, the most respected hostess of the ton, would invite you for tea, is anyone's guess. But, as I said before, I do not want to know.' She then handed the letter to Verity and once more removed her spectacles, carefully placing them back on her desk. 'Of course, you must go. I will have Huntley attend you to make you look a little more presentable.'

  Verity took the letter, glanced at the neat copperplate writing, and then held it in her hands. 'Miss Stanford,' Madame DuPont said, 'before you leave, may I give you some advice? I know it is none of my business, and I do not like to interfere with the personal lives of my staff, but...'

  'Of course,' Verity said politely, 'I would value it.'

  'Be careful,' she said, folding her hands on the table. 'I have my suspicions regarding what happened to Miss Jones. I have suspected, for the past few days, that she has been sneaking off in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, I have been far too busy dealing with my affairs to worry about anyone else's.' Madame DuPont sighed, 'and now, I fear, she has made a terrible mistake, one she will not be able to rectify.'

  Verity sat quietly, and felt a little guilty, as she listened to Madame DuPont's wise words. 'Please, Miss Stanford, do not make the same mistake. Guard your reputation and do not give it away cheaply.'

  Madame DuPont stood up, 'you had better go and get ready. I have heard that the Countess does not like tardiness.'

  Verity also stood up, 'Thank you Madame DuPont,' she said as she was about to leave, 'and I do thank you for all your advice.'

  'Good-bye, Miss Stanford,' she said rather curtly as Verity left the room.

  ✽✽✽

  Later that afternoon, the Wrexham's carriage drew up in front of the school. Verity was aware that all the staff and pupils had crowded around the windows to see the spectacle. The carriage was indeed a grand affair, with the Earl's crest emblazoned on the door. There was no doubt that the vehicle belonged to someone of great importance. As the girls waved to her, Verity wished she could have left the house
a little less conspicuously. It would not have been too far to walk, and she knew that Madame DuPont would have told Huntley to escort her. But the detailed instructions, laid out by the Countess, could not be altered at short notice. A carriage was to come for her at a quarter to three whether she liked it or not.

  Once the carriage arrived, a smart footman ran down the steps of their townhouse and opened its door. He efficiently produced the steps, gave her his hand and assisted her down to the pavement. Verity followed the footman up the steps into a grand entrance hall. The house was terribly grand and imposing, and Verity thought that the Earl must be very influential to be able to procure a house such as this. Having money and rank did not guarantee a residence in the best neighbourhood in Brussels, one also had to have certain political connections and the wherewithal to take advantage of them. She continued to follow the footman up an imposing marble staircase into a large airy drawing room.

  As she approached the drawing-room, she could hear the buzz of conversation from within. The footman announced her and the room went silent as everyone stared at her. Verity felt very conscious of her appearance. Even though the formidable Huntley had arranged her hair, she still felt positively dowdy next to the women in that room.

  'Ah, Miss Stanford,' Lady Wrexham said, 'welcome. Let me introduce you to some of my friends. You will recognise at least one of them.' The tone of her voice belied her welcome. Verity felt that the Countess wished her anywhere, but in her drawing room. She walked with her across the room to a group of young women, who were awkwardly perched on uncomfortable chairs, with their backs looking unnaturally straight. 'Lady Caroline,' she said, motioning to the young lady that Verity recognised from the park, 'I will leave Miss Stanford in your capable hands, while I fetch her some tea.'

  Lady Caroline introduced Verity to the group of young ladies. 'This is Miss Stanford,' she said, with her nose in the air, 'the schoolmistress I told you about earlier.' She was dismissive about Verity in her introduction and left her friends in no doubt what she thought of the acquaintance.

  'How lovely,' one of the young ladies said, with no conviction in her voice. 'And where do you teach?'

  When Verity revealed the location of the school and some of her duties, they looked at her with stony expressions on their faces. They were not impressed with the guest that their usually fashionable hostess had thrust upon them. 'Really!' One of them said when Verity had finished, her nose held high, 'how quaint!’

  The Countess returned and handed Verity a small cup of tea in an ornate porcelain cup. 'Would you like sugar?' the Countess asked politely.

  'No thank you,' replied Verity.

  The Countess then sat next to Verity and began to speak so loudly, that the whole room could hear the conversation. 'Caro,' she said, as her voice carried across the room, 'I am so glad that you will soon be my sister.'

  Another young lady turned around, 'Lady Caroline,' she said, with excitement, 'are we to congratulate you?'

  'Any day now,' Lady Caroline said, with a smile on her face, 'our families are just finalising the settlements.'

  The Countess turned to Verity, 'of course, you must know. Lady Caroline is as good as betrothed to my dear brother, Colonel Mitford. Our families have been planning this happy event for many years. We have just been waiting for our dear Caro to come of age. Now she is seventeen, and James is at a time when he should marry; it is not a perfect time for the two lovers to tie the knot?’

  Lady Caroline looked at Verity and smiled triumphantly. 'I will marry the Colonel,' she said firmly, looking directly at Verity.

  Verity sat and sipped her tea in silence, while the two women continued to talk about their plans for Lady Caroline's and Colonel Mitford's opulent wedding. Verity could not help but think that this conversation had been undertaken purely for her benefit as a warning for her to leave him alone. However, Verity put very little store on their threats. She had dealt with plenty of petit squabbles between pupils at the school. There was little difference between Lady Wrexham's and Lady Caroline's artless conversation, and those she had mediated over in the many years she had spent as a schoolmistress. Verity might feel awkward, but she was not going to be intimidated by them. At least she knew that Lady Wrexham would not be willing to offer her protection in her household. And, Verity thought to herself that she would have to refuse it anyway, especially if it meant having to listen constantly to veiled threats. Verity continued to sit still, occasionally bringing her cup to her lips to sip her tea.

  Verity was becoming aware of a woman that was staring at her. She caught the lady's eye, entirely by accident, and quickly looked away. After her tea had been drunk and the allotted time for her visit was drawing to a close, the woman approached Verity.

  She was an elegant lady, dressed in a beautifully cut lilac silk dress of the latest fashion. Verity guessed that she was in her forties and that she was a well-respected lady. As she approached, the other young ladies stopped talking and looked at her in reverence. She came and sat down next to Verity and continued to look at her intently, 'I must apologise for staring at you, my dear,' she began, 'but I knew your mother.'

  Chapter 19

  Verity looked at her astonished, and then managed to say, 'my mother?'

  'Was your mother Lady Viola Stanford?' the lady replied.

  'Yes,' Verity said shocked.

  'You look just like her, my dear,' she said with a smile. 'But, where are my manners?' She then added briskly, 'we have not been introduced. I am Lady Harrington, and I was your mother's best friend during our first season.'

  Verity could not help but stare at the woman, who now sat next to her. She felt incredibly rude, but no words came. She was in shock.

  Lady Harrington, aware that Verity was tongue tied, continued, 'I first met your mother during our come-out season back in eighty-eight. That was seven and twenty years ago,' she said with a chuckle, 'that does make me feel old.' She looked at Verity, 'all season, the two of us were inseparable.'

  'I cannot believe it; you look just like her,' she said, taking hold of her hand, 'just like her.'

  'I have been told I look a little like my mother,' Verity said, 'but her hair was brown, not red.'

  'Oh no, my dear,' Lady Harrington said forcefully, 'Viola's hair was the same shade of red just like yours. The same shade, exactly!'

  Verity was puzzled. As far as she could remember, her mother never had any friends. No one ever came to visit her, and she never received any letters from the outside world. 'Where are you staying? I overheard that you were a schoolmistress, but that cannot be true.'

  'Yes,' Verity said, looking at her lap, 'I work at a local girls' school.'

  'Well, that will never do,' she replied, almost under her breath, 'Viola would not have liked that one bit.'

  Verity did not know what to say in response. Fortunately, Lady Harrington spoke before she could answer, 'you must join my husband and me for dinner tonight, and I can answer any questions about your mother that I know you must have.'

  'I do not...' Verity was about to refuse the invitation politely, but Lady Harrington once more interrupted her.

  'I never take no for an answer, my dear, never.' She took hold of Verity's hand once more, 'please, my dear, for my sake.'

  Verity reluctantly agreed.

  ✽✽✽

  Early that evening, Verity, for the fourth time that day, was travelling in a large, well-sprung carriage. This time, the vehicle was conveying her to dinner at the residence of Lord and Lady Harrington.

  When Madam DuPont was told about Verity's invitation to the Harrington's for dinner, she had raised her eyebrows. However, she did not, much to Verity's relief, bombard her with questions about why the invitation had been forthcoming. To help her get ready for the evening, Madame DuPont was kind enough, once more, to lend her Huntley. The formidable maid had tutted, when she had rifled through Verity's limited wardrobe, trying to find a suitable outfit. Huntley had decided that Verity would have to wear the same d
ress she had worn that afternoon. It was the only one, out of her limited collection, that would be suitable for the occasion. Huntley had pressed the creased skirt and rearranged her hair, and now Verity was ready to go.

  The carriage drew up outside the townhouse that was similar in size to the Wrexham's. Verity, once more, felt rather inadequate walking up the steps towards the front door. She felt that she was entering another world, one in which she did not belong.

  Lady Harrington had been watching for Verity's arrival. And before the Butler had had a chance to announce her, Lady Harrington was gracefully walking down the stairs. Her ladyship looked younger than she had done earlier that afternoon. She wore a beautiful light blue silk dress, with a high waist and a plunging neckline. Her hair was swept off her shoulders, and she wore the most impressive diamond necklace Verity had ever seen. 'I am so glad you came,' Lady Harrington said to her guest. She then walked over to Verity and put her arms around her affectionately. ‘It is so good to see you,’ said holding her tight in her arms. Lady Harrington let go of Verity, but still holding her gently by her arm, she said, 'please come through to the drawing room. Lord Harrington is eager to meet you.'

  Lady Harrington then lead her into the drawing room, 'Miss Stanford,' she said to Verity, 'this is my husband, Lord Harrington.' His lordship was an impressive figure. He was a little older than his wife, with silver hair and fine lines around his eyes and mouth, but he was still a handsome man.

  'Miss Stanford,' he said as he bowed, 'it is indeed an honour to meet you.'

  Verity smiled and returned his greeting.

  'Did I not tell you that she looked like Viola,' Lady Harrington said, with excitement to her husband, 'even the colour of her hair is the same shade.'