High Spirits at Harroweby

by Comstock, Mary Chase

  He felt shakingly sick with fear as he leaned back against his pillows and forced himself to review the dream’s content. What if Selinda’s good graces were instrumental to his future? Perhaps he had acted too hastily yesterday. Almost in love with him? That he could well believe, for he thought himself quite a fine fellow. Perhaps she had only been trying to make him jealous at the ball. Of course! That only made good sense! Well, he would certainly have to apologize to her and begin to court her prettily, regardless of what his mama thought. That ogress was not to be trusted anyway. The dream had made that much clear.

  * * * *

  Lady Sybil, quite content with her handiwork in Rupert’s slumbers, now drifted along to his mother’s chamber. She shuddered to think what that noxious person’s dreams might reveal. To her dismay, however, she found Prudence still wide awake and busily occupied in sewing thick stacks of bank notes into the voluminous skirts of a traveling dress. There must be a small fortune in the dress already from the looks of it.

  Frowning, the ghost was about to make her exit when her eye was caught by a gleaming little pile on the bed. Jewels! Rubies, amethysts, and pearls gleamed in the dim light. Some pieces she did not recognize, but there were enough of her own glimmering among them to make it evident that this horrid woman had her fingers in more pots than one. Making off with money was one thing, but the family jewels! This was a sad crime indeed. Looking more closely at the silent seamstress, Lady Sybil was incensed to perceive her own lovely pearl pomander hanging among the fleshy folds of the woman’s neck. This desecration was beyond enough I Oh! she would not be satisfied until that one was well behind bars, and her gluttonish son along with her.

  * * * *

  Prudence stopped for a moment in her endeavor and shivered. It was odd, she thought, that the room had suddenly become so icy. There must be a draft coming down the chimney. Before long, she reflected with a complacent shrug, she’d be in the tropics and would never suffer from the dank British climate again. She’d build a palace—you could stretch the blunt like catgut in the tropics, she’d heard—and have a hundred slaves to do her bidding as well. The sun would put some color into her cheeks and perhaps, some impoverished noble or other would beg for her hand. Not that she wanted or needed any man, of course. But the thought, of some lord or other squirming under her repressive thumb mightily took her fancy. She could hardly wait for the pleasures ahead.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The fine weather the residents of Harroweby House had been enjoying for the past month gave way the next morning to London’s perennial gray and damp, which would in all likelihood hold sway until the spring. Waking to rain-washed windows, each one did his or her best to conceal the nervous energy engendered by the air of change; nevertheless, the sound of rainfall in the courtyard echoed in their pulses.

  The morning passed with relative placidity, all things considered, each member of the household going about his or her own business with varying degrees of feigned serenity. Beneath their placid demeanors, there was not, of course, a single heart unseared by some emotion or another, whether it was fear, excitement, or chagrin

  After an exceedingly wretched night, Rupert finally abandoned hopes of sleeping in and began the day intent on modifying his manners toward Selinda. The haunting shadow of the previous night’s dream had risen up before him as soon as he opened his eyes that morning. It was not a pretty prospect. He was just as certain in broad daylight as he had been during the night that the dream had been a warning of his mother’s murderous intentions as well as a sign that pointed the only way to his deliverance. In addition to keeping an even keener eye on his perfidious parent, therefore, he was now determined to adopt a chivalrous air and placatory manner in all of his dealings with his lovely cousin.

  Making his way downstairs, he was unnerved to find that his mother had preceded him at the breakfast table. Neither of them was an early riser, of course, and they sized each other up rather suspiciously as they exchanged cursory good mornings.

  “There are sausages on the sideboard,” his mother told him.

  Rupert’s stomach did a lurching flip-flop as he quickly dropped the lid of the chafing dish. Instead he poured a cup of stout tea and sat down for the first time in his life determined not to break his fast. The very thought of food was altogether too gruesome, really.

  They sat in silence for some minutes, each surreptitiously stealing glances at the other, until at last Selinda made her entrance. She stopped short in the doorway, surprised to see the pair at this early hour. If she’d had the least clue they would be about she’d have kept to her chamber and shared a bit of Lucy’s breakfast, meager though that portion was.

  As soon as he spied her, Rupert rose abruptly to his feet and bowed as deeply as his girth allowed, then pulled a chair back for her. Selinda proceeded with caution, gingerly settling herself while Rupert busily poured her tea and offered to fill her plate for her. She accepted a scone and a little fruit, eschewing the despised sausages, much to Rupert’s intense gratification. This, too, he felt sure was significant.

  “Did you sleep well, little cousin?” he asked with what he supposed to be a winsome smile.

  Selinda suppressed a shudder: the memory of her dream in conjunction with those conjured up by the sight of her odious cousin put her quite ill at ease.

  Rupert bit his lower lip. Considering his recent treatment of her, it was little wonder the girl shuddered. Drat his mother for driving him to such desperate measures. It was all her fault. Now, he must do something to win back Selinda’s affections and trust, for he believed implicitly in the dream’s revelation that both had once been his. If he could not, he feared that his ambitions would suddenly be beyond his grasp, just when they seemed so close. He knit his eyebrows violently as he tried to think. He must find some way to talk to Selinda privately and apologize for his actions. Then he must ply her with presents and flowers. Pretty compliments and comfits. Outings and such. That would surely do the trick.

  “I shall be driving out today, Cousin. Do you think you would care to accompany me?”

  Selinda swallowed hard. The last thing she wanted was a private meeting with her cousin. She entertained very little hope that she would emerge from such an encounter unscathed. “I find myself a little unwell this morning, Cousin. I hope you will forgive me, but perhaps another time would be better.”

  “Ah, but I shall be driving in Hyde Park,” he continued in a wheedling tone. “You would love to see the fashionable set there, I am sure.”

  “I really think I had best not, Cousin,” she returned weakly, dropping her eyes. She knew his mother was not above issuing a direct command where her son’s pleasures were concerned, and she waited nervously for the directive to come.

  “Selinda,” Aunt Prudence began, fixing the girl with a chilling stare. Selinda steeled herself. “I believe you are looking somewhat pale. I think perhaps it would be wisest if you kept to your chamber for the remainder of the day.”

  Seizing on this opportunity, Selinda immediately excused herself, leaving Rupert and his mother exchanging wrathful glances.

  “That is really above everything, Mater,” he fumed. “I told you I’d brook no interference and I shall not. I believe if you were wise you would allow me my way in this one thing.”

  “And I believe if you were wise,” his mother returned in soft, dangerous tones, “you would not meddle in matters that cannot but harm you. You have led a soft life, Rupert. I would not test the patience of one who has not.”

  At that, Rupert threw down his napkin pettishly and exited with what he fondly believed was a dignified silence, although his weighty tread rattled the serving pieces on the sideboard. His mother sat for a time regarding the door through which he had withdrawn. It was clear the little minx had completely wormed her way into Rupert’s affections and left no room for her. The way he fawned on the chit, bowing and scraping, made Prudence want to retch. She’d put a spoke in her son’s wheels soon enough, she decided.
They’d not stay a moment longer than they had to at Harroweby House—and there’d be no returning, either. Rupert could cast sullen looks all he wanted, but they’d set sail as soon as ever might be.

  In fact, she could think of no reason to delay their departure until tomorrow. Thanks to her efforts of the previous evening, her own preparations were in order. All sewn up, she thought with a grim smile. Yes, with a little concentrated effort, they could be gone by this afternoon and never see the noxious chit again. But she must be certain to dash off a note to that insect, Basham, to apprise him of her sudden departure. Unfortunately, the legalities surrounding the sale of Darrowdean necessitated his inclusion in that aspect of her plan.

  Prudence pulled herself up from the breakfast table, stopped at the sideboard, and stuffed one last sausage into her mouth for good measure. She had a strenuous day ahead of her and needed to maintain her strength. As she passed through the foyer, the doorknocker sounded. As usual, the butler was nowhere in sight. Much put upon, she sighed heavily and threw the door open. On the doorstep stood two gentlemen whom she thought she recognized from Selinda’s ball. One was certainly that Lord Waverly, an odd volume if half the stories about him were true. It seemed, after all, as if Rupert’s fears might have had some merit. This interest would have to be nipped in the bud.

  Before the gentlemen could even hand her their cards, she summoned up an alarming expression and announced, “We are under quarantine here, gentlemen. Typhus. If you value your health, you’d best be off and good day to you.” With that she slammed the door in their faces.

  “I say, Waverly,” Bastion began with an eloquent shudder, “could that have been a sausage in her hand?”

  “I sincerely hope so,” his cousin replied, grimacing at the memory of her greasy mouth and fingers, “considering the alternatives.”

  “Havey-cavey if you ask me.”

  “I bow to your superior judgment in those matters,” Waverly remarked absently, his concentration focused on what appeared to be the dim possibility of ever being admitted to the presence of Lady Selinda.

  “You don’t suppose they’ve really got the fever there, do you?”

  “I would consider it highly unlikely.” Waverly glanced up at the window Lucy had indicated to him the day before. No vase of flowers was visible.

  “Not but what I don’t appreciate your efforts to secure my future, Roland, but it don’t seem like we’re making much headway, and from the looks of the chief Gorgon, it don’t look as it we’re likely to.”

  “Never fear,” Waverly replied, more to himself than his cousin, “I shan’t give up hope yet. Perhaps we’ll try again later in the day.”

  * * * *

  Lucy and Selinda were sitting quietly in their stark chamber, each occupied with her own thoughts but pretending to read, when Aunt Prudence unceremoniously burst in followed by Miss Snypish.

  “Put on your pelisse, child, and be quick about it. Where is her valise, Snypish?”

  The companion lost no time in pulling that item from the armoire and set about filling it, the scantiness of Lucy’s wardrobe presenting a simple task.

  “Whatever is going on, Aunt Prudence?” Selinda asked, suddenly stricken with a sickening fear. “You promised that Lucy and I would not be separated.”

  “Don’t be hen-witted. I am merely taking Lucy on a short journey with me. It is a fine opportunity for one so young, although I have little hope she’ll thank me for it. Stop looking like a gaping carp, brat, and help Miss Snypish with the packing.” With that, she turned abruptly and left the room, Selinda following on her heels.

  Lucy, who had been feeling uneasy all morning, now knew why. She immediately ran to the window and set the asters on the sill, thankful she’d had the foresight to have the vase in readiness. Then, with not the least intention of aiding Miss Snypish’s efforts, she ran from the room, intent on the gallery.

  Miss Snypish had not been unaware of the child’s mysterious action. That was a sly one and no mistake. She’d no idea, of course, why Lucy had taken the trouble to put the vase in the window, but she was not about to ignore her instincts. Quickly crossing to it, she picked up the flowers and tossed them out the window.

  In the foyer, servants were busily removing Prudence’s various trunks and hatboxes to the waiting carriage and Rupert was standing about glumly with his hands pushed into his pockets feeling as useless as ever he might. He wished he might take some sort of action to forestall the precipitous events going on about him but knew not how. Whatever had gotten his cross-grained beast of a mother into such an enormous pet anyway that they must suddenly leave today instead of tomorrow? Now the chance to pretty up to Selinda would have to wait until their return. He thought briefly of sending her some sort of .letter but quickly decided that might be too easily intercepted. Above all things, he knew he must keep his intentions as close as possible.

  He watched as Miss Snypish made her way down the stairs and handed a small valise to a footman with a look of decided satisfaction emblazoned across her face. He didn’t at all like what he saw. Something more was going on than met the eye and he had no way of finding out what.

  * * * *

  Upon finding Lady Sybil in her customary retreat, Lucy heaved a sigh of relief. She quickly apprised the ghost of the plans for her sudden remove and concluded with a wry smile, “There is nothing for it but to be brave, I suppose, and hope for the best. Take care of Selinda for me.”

  “I have no intention of letting you go by yourself, child.”

  “But, Lady Sybil, even if you might, how could I rest easy leaving Selinda all alone?”

  “In the first place,” the ghost said gently, “you forget that the persons who offer the most threat are going along with you, my dear. You have more need of protection than your sister.”

  Lucy gulped, but said nothing.

  “Secondly,” the ghost went on, “you seem to be the only one who can see or hear me in any case, so I suspect my presence would be of little value here.”

  Lucy paced a bit, biting her lower lip before demanding, “But I still do not see how you can possibly follow me. I don’t know of anything of yours I can take with me and I must be back downstairs before too much more time has passed. I dare not anger them now.”

  “Well,” Lady Sybil explained, “I shall not be precisely following you. That disreputable woman has appropriated a favorite keepsake of mine which I had much rather you or your sister received. She is wearing it even as we speak. Never fear. As long as you are with her, I shall be with you.”

  * * * *

  When Lucy finally made her way downstairs, she found Prudence impatiently waiting for her. Selinda restrained the tears she felt pricking at her eyes and, in spite of the handprint glowing on one side of her face, smiled bravely at Lucy. Her protests had met only with unveiled threats as to what sort of treatment Lucy might expect if Selinda did not hold her peace. She gathered her little sister up into a silent embrace, which Lucy returned with a violent energy. “Do not worry about me, Selinda,” she managed to whisper. “There is a friend coming along with me I can rely on. And you—the best thing is you may rely on Lord Waverly!”

  “But what can you possibly know of ... ?”

  “Do take care of yourself, Selinda,” the child whispered, as she gave her sister one last squeeze.

  These remarks had barely time to register on Selinda before Prudence snatched Lucy away by her collar and half-led, half-pulled her out to the carriage, which was waiting in the rain. Selinda ran forward, but Rupert put himself in her way.

  “Never fear. We shall return before long, little cousin,” he said in a placatory tone. Selinda cast a sulphurous glance at him. Then with sudden inspiration he went on, “I assure you, all shall be well in the end, my dear. What’s more, I shall make it my responsibility to look after the child.”

  “See that you do,” Selinda told him through clenched teeth. “Believe me, I shall see you all dead if any harm comes to her.”

&nb
sp; Rupert’s eyes widened, and he backed away. What monsters women were after all! There was not one of his acquaintance who wouldn’t skewer a fellow the first time he crossed her will.

  When the carriage finally rattled away, Selinda watched until it disappeared, then turned dejectedly into the house, tears of frustration and fear running down her cheeks. She had not the least idea what Lucy’s cryptic message about some mysterious friend had meant and hardly dared hope there was any truth to it. The reference to Lord Waverly was more baffling still. She knew she had never mentioned his name to the child and could not think of any other person who might have. Selinda knew from long experience, however, that Lucy’s odd ways were more often to be trusted than not; aiming a heartfelt petition at the heavens, she prayed that no harm would come of this day’s events.

  These ruminations were interrupted by Miss Snypish who seemed all in a flutter. “Take this note round to Madame Claire’s,” she was instructing a footman, “and be quick about it. Now, Lady Selinda, pray accompany me to my rooms that you may advise me on my toilette.”

  “Miss Snypish,” Selinda ventured, her voice trembling faintly, “I am much distressed by what has just passed, and my aunt has refused me any explanation whatsoever. I do not know where my sister has been taken nor for how long.”

  “Do not trouble yourself,” she was told shortly. “Your aunt merely desired some companionship for her journey. And, I am sure, some carrying and fetching as I am not to go along.”

  “But Aunt Prudence despises Lucy!”

  “Well,” Miss Snypish continued grimly, “let us hope that the child does nothing to provoke her. Come along now.”

  After receiving a strict admonition to cease her moping, Selinda trailed up the stairs after Miss Snypish, her heart a stony lump. She had never thought that a respite from her aunt and cousin could possibly leave her with such feelings of torment. And yet, she realized, their absence quite possibly offered her the only opportunity she might have to amend the wretched situation in which she and her sister were trapped. If she could elude Miss Snypish even for an afternoon, she might be able to manage events to some conclusion.