In a frenzied attempt to avoid taking a stand one way or the other without first consulting his noble client, the attorney’s communication degenerated into near gibberish. At last, he inquired: Why they did not ask Miss Crump, who must know about the matter?
This missive was shown, without comment, to Miss le Strange, who read it, also without comment, although her face tightened as she read the lines containing the words imposter and unauthorized possession. Miss Quince continued to be surprised that she did not leave Lesser Hoo for the bedside of her fiancé where she could better protect her interests, or so it seemed to Miss Quince, at least. However, she did not say so, and indeed the entire meeting between the two women was silent, even though the air between them crackled with suppressed emotion.
“We must wait for the Viscount either to regain the power of speech or else to be forever silenced by death,” said Miss Quince in tones that brooked no contradiction. Miss le Strange said nothing, but left the school immediately, without even attempting to see her charge, Miss Crump.
“The swine! The utter swine! How dare he—or his blasted son—come sniffing around my niece? My own sister’s daughter! Well, I’ll see him in Hades!”
It was a week and a half since Mrs. Fredericks had made Miss Mainwaring admit to the true state of her affections. Mr. Fredericks was gripping a letter in his hand and pacing in an agitated manner about the great hall of Crooked Castle.
“Hush, my dear. Please calm down. You’ll do yourself an injury. Sit down, and press this damp cloth against your head. That’s right. Are you better now?”
“I am not better, nor do I intend to be so until Cecily gives up any idea of marrying the son of this—this cad, Caruthers Hadley!”
“Then he is the father of Arthur Hadley?”
“He is, devil take him.”
“But there is nothing against the lad himself, and Cecily loves him. I find that my stepsister and Clara Hopkins and, far more importantly, Miss Quince like him very much. He should have a future with the East India Company, as his father holds such a high position there.”
Mr. Fredericks ceased pacing long enough to fix his wife with a stern eye. “If Cecily marries Arthur Hadley,” he said, in the tone of voice he might have used to attempt to explain quadratic equations to one of his dogs, “that will make me his uncle, which is tantamount to making me brother to Caruthers Hadley. Quite out of the question.”
Mrs. Fredericks regarded him thoughtfully. “The fact that you are behaving like such a great gawby, my dear, leads me to believe that he must have bested you in the indigo deal you mention. Nothing else could explain such vituperation.”
“He did nothing of the kind!”
“Are you aware that, from all appearances, Mr. Hadley Senior is every bit as much opposed to the match as you are? It is my personal belief that he has forbidden his son to make an offer to Cecily, and has instead ordered him to pursue Miss Crump, Viscount Baggeshotte’s daughter.”
Mr. Fredericks rounded on her. “Why, the dirty dog! How dare he think my niece not good enough for his boy?”
“I rather suspect it is because he thinks that you bested him in the indigo deal, and he cannot bear the humiliation of meeting you again.” Having delivered herself of this opinion, Mrs. Fredericks folded up her mending and left the room, feeling that it was best to allow her husband to think on this aspect of the situation in solitude.
“Humph!” said Mr. Fredericks. Then after a pause for reflection, he began to chuckle. “Ha! Poor old Caruthers Hadley!”
20
MISS PFFOLLIOTT WAS missing the dog, Wolfie. Since Mr. Rasmussen had assumed a more respectable position in her life, she had not needed canine companionship on her daily walks and, to her surprise, she found herself quite desolate without his undemanding presence. His size was such that she need not bend to pat him; the palm of her hand rested on his huge shaggy head as they walked along together down the lanes, and his company made her feel she was fit for anything.
Now, though Mr. Rasmussen had ceased to waylay her, she felt lonely and exposed out on the fells without her friend. At the field where she had been wont to see Wolfie she paused, hoping perhaps to offer him a kiss and a caress.
“If tha’ wants him, tha’ can have him,” said Mr. Lomax from his habitual recumbent position on the shady side of the stone wall. Miss Pffolliott uttered a shrill squeak at this unexpected remark. However, Wolfie lunged into view, expressing his joy at this reunion by gamboling noisily about, looking and sounding like a bear undergoing a seizure of some description.
As usual, the sight of the dog cheered and heartened her, and she calmed. She greeted the shepherd, adding, “What do you mean, Mr. Lomax?”
Mr. Lomax spat in disgust. “Pardon me, Miss, but that dog is useless. T’other dogs can run rings about him, and he eats like a prize hog. You take him, Miss. Tell Miss Hopkins he’ll be right handy for scarin’ off vagrants and suchlike—least, so long as they don’t get too close and he starts fawnin’ all over ’em.”
“Oh, but . . .” As the words formed on her lips, it occurred to her how much she would love to have Wolfie by her side every day. She had not made any close friends at the school—her relations with the other girls were cordial, but distant—and the thought of having Wolfie’s affectionate presence on a regular basis was very sweet. Indeed, she realized, she valued his company far more than the company of her beau, Mr. Rasmussen. She stooped and wrapped her arms around the big dog’s neck.
“There’s a fox been after t’hens of late,” said Mr. Lomax, watching her shrewdly. “Daresay Miss Hopkins has been troubled, like most folks. You might mention that to her when you bring him back. Fox won’t want to come around where Wolfie’s been, and you needn’t worry about him with the fowl. He’s right gormless when it comes to chickens—thinks they’re puppies or summat. You’d undertake to feed and water the beast, wouldn’t you?”
“I would, Mr. Lomax,” Miss Pffolliott said, nodding her head.
“Well, then, that’s settled. Get along w’you, Wolfie. You’re t’young lady’s dog now.”
Wolfie greeted this news with a series of howls and a delighted, lumbering dance around his new mistress, and the two set off in the direction of the post office in a state of considerable contentment.
“I say, what a very fierce-looking dog! Is that not Lomax’s sheepdog?” The gentleman who thus addressed Miss Pffolliott as they left the village shop had stopped to admire Wolfie, offering the dog his hand to sniff and drool over.
“Oh, how do you do, Mr. Godalming? Yes—er, that is, no, not anymore,” said Miss Pffolliott. She explained the transfer of ownership and, as Mr. Godalming seemed quite interested, shyly admitted to being nervous about Wolfie’s reception at the school. “He is so terribly large, you see. And, as you say, he does not appear nearly as sweet-natured as he is. But he is, truly he is very, very affectionate and friendly.” She spoke pleadingly, as though if she could convince Mr. Godalming she would therefore be able to convince Miss Hopkins to let her keep him.
Mr. Godalming laughed and scratched behind Wolfie’s ears. The grain had been got in weeks ago, the fields manured, the vegetables and fruits harvested and preserved, and he was now, if not quite a gentleman of leisure, then a much more relaxed and genial soul than he had been in September. “He’s got a savage look to him, fair enough, but I believe you are right, and it is all a sham! You’re nothing but a great baby, aren’t you, Wolfie? I’ve heard Lomax complaining about him as a sheepdog—said he was eating him out of house and home and wasn’t worth the price of his feed—so it does not surprise me that he has pushed him off onto you. Still, he ought to be worthwhile having about in a houseful of women—you’ve just the one male house servant, haven’t you?”
Miss Pffolliott agreed that Robert was their only indoor man.
“Why then, Miss Pffolliott, if you will allow me to escort you and your new
dog home, I think I may be able to be of assistance to you. I had planned to walk over to the Castle to speak with Mrs. Fredericks about the ball, and I might as well see you back on my way.”
Miss Pffolliott expressed herself as happy to accept his arm on the way to the school, but wondered aloud what he could mean by the phrase, “may be able to be of assistance to you.”
“It is this, Miss Pffolliott. You are aware that I am magistrate for this district?” When she nodded, he continued, “As magistrate I get to know the crimes and misdemeanors going on in the area. And”—here he leaned in closer and spoke in a lower tone—“I do not mean to alarm you, or any other of the ladies, but there have been several house-breakings at Allingham, which as you know is a mere six miles away. I shall make sure to draw your Miss Hopkins aside and tell her that I strongly recommend she get herself a good, fearsome-looking watchdog. In fact”—and here he looked down at the anxious face gazing up at him—“I shall tell her it was my idea to begin with, if you like!”
“Oh, would you, Mr. Godalming? Would you?”
“Of course, m’dear. Happy to!” He patted her hand and steered her around a small puddle in the road. This Miss Pffolliott was a nice little creature, he thought, and it was pleasant to do her this small favor. She seemed fond of her dog, which he found rather touching. He himself was devoted, in his way, to his own dogs. He rummaged around in his mind for a topic of conversation.
“Don’t suppose you care for sheep at all,” he suggested diffidently. “I find them fascinating, myself, but ladies may not think much about them.”
Miss Pffolliott replied that her knowledge of sheep was not extensive, but expressed a willingness to learn. This attitude in a young lady was so novel that Mr. Godalming began to think her quite exceptional. Using the flocks by the side of the road as a sort of visual aid, he waxed eloquent about all matters ovine as Miss Pffolliott listened, her head tipped to one side.
She was reflecting that, for all Mr. Godalming was a rather ugly man and, yes, definitely inclined to run on a bit about sheep, he was kind. In these ways he could be said to resemble her dear Wolfie, and after all, sheep might have points of interest hitherto unsuspected.
The reason that Miss le Strange—having been prevented from taking repossession of her pupil—had not left Lesser Hoo and traveled to Lord Baggeshotte’s bedside was simple: she had not the funds to do so. Much to the governess’s fury, Mrs. Westing had managed to best her at cards time and time again, gradually shifting the contents of Miss le Strange’s purse into her own. In fact, Miss le Strange had suspicions of her hostess’s honesty. However, even if she could prove actual cheating, the result of exposing the lady would be to make an enemy of her only ally in the neighborhood, and to deprive herself of a roof over her head. She held her tongue and watched her last few resources dwindling away.
Her regular stipend as a governess would not be payable for several months, and as long as Lord Baggeshotte remained unable to speak, it was unlikely that his lawyer would be willing to advance her any money based upon her unrecognized position as the Viscount’s fiancée. She had hoped that the Misses Winthrop, Hopkins, and Quince would be willing to pay some portion of the necklace’s value to avoid any scandal, but they had remained obdurate, so that source of ready money had dried up. And the other arrangements she had made to ensure her future, in the event that Lord Baggeshotte should die without making provision for her, were not proceeding as smoothly as she could wish.
Her lip curled. How could she have been so careless as to allow his Lordship to have a seizure before announcing their engagement? She ought to have insisted he make it public immediately, before he had a chance to reconsider. Once it was proclaimed abroad, there would have been no going back, but his sudden illness—immediately after the proposal she had managed to bring about with much toil—had allowed him an out.
She must regain guardianship of Miss Crump. It was for this reason that she had journeyed to Lesser Hoo in the first place. So long as she had control of the girl, she would also have some control over the father and, additionally, control of the girl’s purse strings. No one could argue that, as the governess charged with bringing the poor child to her father’s sickbed, she should purchase the coach fares and inn accommodations. She would pay for them from the child’s allowance, which she happened to know was both generous and rarely touched.
Miss le Strange’s eyes brightened at the thought of the pleasant little pile of silver and gold Miss Crump was sure to have amassed here in quiet Lesser Hoo, where it was difficult to find any shops in which to spend one’s money. Thank goodness the child was far too stupid to learn how to play card games, or no doubt Mrs. Westing would have nosed out the existence of that allowance and managed to strip her of it—and her dowry as well, for that matter.
She considered the best way to manage. There was no point in appealing to Miss Quince; their enmity was both fixed and mutual. And the other two headmistresses would not want to lose the pupil whose presence lent such prestige to their establishment. No, she would have to swallow her pride and convince Miss Crump to place herself under Miss le Strange’s guardianship again.
Miss le Strange was not a fool. She knew quite well that her prospective stepdaughter both feared and disliked her. In the past this had not seemed of much importance, as the girl could be relied upon to do whatever she was told. Now, however, all that was required was for her to continue to express a preference to remain in Lesser Hoo, and the ladies of the Winthrop Hopkins Academy would refuse to relinquish her.
She paid a call on the school and requested a private interview with Miss Crump. However, when Miss Crump appeared after a long interval (during which Miss le Strange minutely examined the room for evidence of slovenly housekeeping, without success), she was accompanied by Miss Mainwaring.
Miss le Strange peered at this interloper through the silver lorgnette she kept on a chain around her neck. She in fact possessed excellent eyesight, but found that being scrutinized in this manner was apt to make social inferiors uneasy. Miss Mainwaring, who had had some experience of tigresses in her former life, remained unperturbed. Instead of offering any excuse for her presence, she sat down beside her friend, took a piece of embroidery out of her workbag, and began to thread her needle.
“I know you will understand, Miss . . . Miss . . . er, hmm,” said Miss le Strange through gritted teeth, “when I ask you to leave me alone with my ward. We have a number of things to discuss that are not for strangers’ ears.”
Miss Mainwaring looked up from her work. “Oh, I am so sorry, Miss le Strange!” she said in apologetic and deferential tones. “But, you see, Miss Crump asked me particularly to come with her to this interview, and as we are most intimate friends, I could not think of disappointing her. You do not wish me to leave, do you, dear Jane?”
Miss Crump shook her bonneted head violently. “No,” she whispered. “No, no, I do not wish you to leave. Not at all!” And she clutched Miss Mainwaring’s arm as though Miss le Strange might attempt to separate them by brute force. Miss Mainwaring smiled, and bent once more to her embroidery as though the question were settled.
Miss le Strange’s eyes narrowed. It did indeed seem as though physical means would be required to remove Miss Mainwaring from the room, and that, of course, was out of the question. The best she could do was to pretend the little chit did not exist. She turned toward her former pupil, fixing her with the flat stare that had so often reduced the child to tears.
“Your father is ill,” she said in a level voice. “He may die at any moment. You will want to go to him, I know, but of course you must have a companion on the journey. I am ready to accompany you to Bath—you need only speak the word, and we shall be off.”
“Oh, but—”
“Do you not love your father, Jane?”
Miss Crump cast an agonized look at her friend. Miss Mainwaring folded her embroidery and crossed her hands
over it on her lap.
“Miss Crump has written to her papa,” said she. “We understand that his health is improving. Although he still cannot speak, he was able to make his desires about his daughter known. He wishes her to remain in Lesser Hoo until he sends for her.”
“What?” demanded Miss le Strange. “And how was he able to make these ‘wishes’ known, if he was unable to speak?”
“We understand—” began Miss Mainwaring, but she was interrupted by a loud scream, followed by a number of other excited vocalizations immediately without.
The door to the room flew open and an enormous creature galloped in, all eyes and teeth and long, pointed claws. The two girls drew back into their chairs, terrified. Even the indomitable Miss le Strange gasped. She stood up and braced herself, ready to do battle against this nightmarish monster, like Saint George facing the dragon.
And indeed, it seemed to be Miss le Strange the beast sought. Gathering itself together, it leaped toward her, mouth agape and drooling, every tooth it owned on display, its massive paws aimed at her shoulders as though to bring her to the floor.
Uttering a strangled cry, she turned and fled, with the fearful apparition close behind. Out the front door she ran, down the drive to the main road. She did not stop to rest until she was convinced it no longer followed her, and she leaned, gasping, against a stone wall a quarter-mile from the school. The tigress had been routed by the wolf.
A School for Brides Page 15