by Lady Rascal
‘Sir,’ she said firmly, ‘I’ve told you before, and goodness knows how many times Jack must have told you. There’s no sort of understanding between us. I don’t encourage him at all in...that way.’
‘It’s true that Jack often makes things up, just to annoy me,’ Philip said thoughtfully. ‘He thinks it’s funny, but then, that’s just his way. He’s always been the same.’
‘Exactly. Whatever silly tales he tells you, sir, rest assured I would never do anything to bring shame on you, or Mistress Constance.’
‘I know,’ Philip said simply, then spurred off. The carriage was nearing its destination, and he had ridden ahead to warn the Wrights.
The vicarage was an impressive, rambling building. Madeleine felt quite overawed as she stepped down from the carriage. That feeling disappeared as soon as she stepped over the threshold. The house was dark and shabby, not like the light openness of Willowbury. As the maid led them down a dank corridor, Madeleine recognised several smells. Her heart sank.
It was always a bad sign when something reminded her of Paris.
They were shown into the parlour, where a merry blaze was crackling. Despite the August warmth outside the room was chilly, and Madeleine knew why.
‘Still having trouble with the damp?’ Philip enquired after all the good-humoured introductions.
The parson nodded sadly, but his daughter smiled at Madeleine.
‘You wouldn’t believe this, mademoiselle, but when it rains hard, water runs down this wall like a cascade!’
I would, Madeleine thought as she sat down beside Leonora.
The parson’s daughter laughed happily. Madeleine saw then why Philip had been so intrigued by her own mouth on that first night in Paris.
There was certainly something very strange about Leonora’s. Madeleine could have sworn that it flashed in the evening sunlight.
She had learnt enough tact to know the English never asked direct questions when they wanted to know something. Subtlety was all.
She would have to be discreet.
‘What pretty teeth you have, Miss Leonora.’
‘Oh, thank you, mademoiselle! I haven’t had this set long. They’re the best ones yet, aren’t they, Philip?’
The company laughed, and Madeleine joined in to avoid looking silly. Fortunately further clues were not long in coming.
‘Dr Pritchard made them for her, mademoiselle.’ The Reverend Mr Wright leaned forward and tapped his daughter’s hand away from her mouth. ‘I’ve told you before, Leonora—you mustn’t take them out in company!’
Everyone laughed again, and to Madeleine’s relief Leonora didn’t ‘take them out’. Jack made removable teeth? What on earth for? It got odder and odder.
‘What wonderful weather we’re having!’ Madeleine said loudly, desperate to change the subject.
‘I read only this morning that the poor King has been sea-bathing at Weymouth.’ Philip moved to her side and placed one hand on the back of the lumpy couch. When he looked down at her his grey eyes were fired with merriment. ‘Let’s hope it can restore his health. Mademoiselle Madeleine is very taken with the sea. It is a wonder we ever managed to get her as far as Willowbury after she had once set eyes upon the Channel!’
‘Oh, I’ve never seen the sea...’ Leonora said wistfully. Her eyes misted, and fair threads of hair trembled about her brows.
‘As it happens, I was wondering if Mother and I might not spend a week or so at the coast before the summer ends—’
Leonora was alert in an instant. ‘Can I come?’
‘If your father agrees to it, Leonora, then you shall both come. The Reverend Mr Wright works every day God sends, Mademoiselle Madeleine. If the harvest is good enough to permit us a holiday, I don’t think we should refuse him one too, do you?’
Madeleine smiled sweetly, although she felt as sour as old milk. The thought of seeing Leonora Wright cooing over Philip all day, every day was not exactly her idea of a pleasant holiday.
It was very late before Madeleine and Philip took their leave of Leonora and the parson. Madeleine did lean out of the window on this occasion. She waved until the two figures in their lamplit doorway were lost to view.
‘That was a kind gesture, mademoiselle—lending Leonora Mother’s necklace, even if it was only for a few hours.’
‘I felt overdressed as soon as we arrived,’ she said glumly. ‘I wish you had told me what things were like there.’
‘Ladies always dress up, whatever the circumstances.’
‘I wouldn’t have done had I known, sir. I hope Miss Leonora wasn’t made to feel uncomfortable.’
He laughed and hurried his horse on a little.
‘You should know, mademoiselle—you monopolised her for most of the evening!’
With a shout he was gone, and the carriage lurched forward to catch up. Suddenly Madeleine was bounced violently up into the air as the carriage took the little hump bridge at a gallop.
‘You still aren’t laughing, mademoiselle’ Philip reappeared at the carriage window with a smile.
‘I think it’s the effects of too much good food, sir...’
‘Ah, they’re still working their way through the half-bullock we sent over. Marrow bones followed by roast beef was all right, but I think suet pastry on the greengages was a bit—mademoiselle?’
Madeleine had rapped for the carriage to stop. She sat on the edge of her seat, taut with nausea.
‘Are you quite well, mademoiselle?’ Philip enquired with some concern.
‘No. I think I’d better get out...’
At once he dismounted and opened the carriage door for her. The evening air was better than cool water to Madeleine. She took in great draughts of it as she leaned against the side of the coach.
‘All that talk of food...and the bridge... I’m sorry, sir...’
‘Oh, of course. I should have realised how gentle your sensibilities are by the way you changed the subject from Leonora’s new teeth. I’m sorry... Are you going to be sick, mademoiselle?’
‘No, sir, I don’t think so. Although if I could just walk about for a moment to catch my breath...’
‘Of course. It would be best not to go far from the carriage, but I shall accompany you. You’ll be quite safe, Mademoiselle Madeleine.’
They stretched their legs with a walk along the verge, and Madeleine began to brighten. It was a pure, star-lit night, as clear as iced water with the hint of autumn close at hand.
‘I should like to thank you, mademoiselle, for making this evening such a success,’ Philip said in a low voice as they reached the furthest point from the carriage.
‘The pleasure was entirely mine!’ she replied with a smile. She stopped and he did likewise, standing very close to her. In the still of the evening an owl wavered from the nearby wood.
‘Perhaps we could repeat the visit on a future occasion,’ he said, so quietly that Madeleine could hardly hear.
‘Of course, sir! Any time you need an excuse to visit the parsonage I would be delighted to provide you with an alibi.’
She kept her voice light, although losing him to Leonora made it so difficult. Philip had been looking towards the far horizon, but as she spoke he looked down at her with a jerk of his head. It was such a sudden movement, Madeleine thought he must have sensed some unwitting sarcasm in her voice.
‘Miss Leonora is a charming girl, sir. She would make an excellent wife should a gentleman like you ever wish to settle down.’
Even those few words did not seem the right ones. He stepped away from her, straightening his jacket as he did so.
‘It must be near midnight, mademoiselle. We should not forget the danger of your position. If you are quite recovered, we should be on our way with all speed.’
The next day, Madeleine had a surprise. Jack called in to see Philip on the way home from his rounds, as he often did. Madeleine and Mistress Constance had been busy in the dairy, but Jack visited them too.
‘Charlotte regrets she has
a summer cold and must postpone your visit planned for tomorrow, mademoiselle. To make amends, she has sent you this...’ Waving a pink envelope, he advanced into the dairy with a laugh.
To avoid suspicion Michael had been asked to reply to Charlotte’s address. Madeleine’s spirits soared, then plummeted as she took the envelope from Jack. It was neat and new. Anything that had travelled all the way from France would have been battered and weary.
‘Thank you, Jack,’ she said, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice.
‘Cheer up! There was another reason why I came in this afternoon—to invite Philip to a play that’s being put on over at Saxton’s Mead tonight. Would you allow mademoiselle to accompany us, Mistress Constance? It is only an informal gathering. I doubt that anyone there would take offence if her two chaperons were a doctor and a country gentleman!’
This was an honour indeed. Madeleine had never been to the theatre, although she had heard gossip about its rascally artistes. She accepted readily once Mistress Constance gave a grudging agreement.
‘How many others will be coming with us?’
Jack laughed. ‘Isn’t it enough that you’ve got two gentlemen keeping you company, mademoiselle? No— this is an occasion for the three of us alone.’
‘I’m surprised the lady has accepted, Jack. You must have some magnetic quality to attract Mademoiselle Madeleine away from her work,’ Philip said sharply, following his friend into the dairy.
Madeleine looked for sarcasm in his face, but saw only resignation.
‘On the contrary, sir. I was ready for a break, and should love to come.’
‘Very well,’ Jack grinned. ‘If the carriage were to leave here at six, mademoiselle, would that give you enough time to get ready?’
Madeleine was delighted, and said so. Even washing up the dairy things wouldn’t seem such a chore if there was to be a treat at the end of it.
‘If there was time... I could read you Mistress Charlotte’s letter before we went—’ Philip began in an offhand manner.
‘Oh, that’s all right.’ Madeleine shrugged. ‘Mistress Constance has been teaching me, and Charlotte has been helping, too, when I visit her.’
She looked back to her work, and when she glanced up again Philip had left. Jack remained only long enough to get a fingerful of cream from the nearest setting pan and a scolding from Mistress Constance.
Leaving the wet utensils on their rack to dry, Madeleine went on to deal with that day’s butter. It always gave her great satisfaction to press the butter into its moulds, turning out each pat with the perfect imprint of a swan.
Once the tray of new butter pats had been put in the gauze cabinet away from flies, Madeleine had finished her work for the afternoon. With a warning from Mistress Constance to be back home by nine o’clock, she was free to go inside, get ready and study her letter. She read slowly.
My dear Madeleine, I am so sorry we will not be able to see you tomorrow. A letter has arrived at last—I opened it as you instructed, but I am afraid the news is not good. Michael is feeling very sorry for himself at losing Kitty, and cannot understand why he said such awful things to her. He sees himself as the real black sheep of the family now, with no future here. He has determined to make a good life for himself and his little son without bringing further shame to either Kitty or his family.
Michael’s excuses and arguments seemed very poor to Madeleine, but true to the stubborn streak she had sometimes noticed in Philip. She unfolded the letter fully and discovered she was not the only one to hold that opinion.
He speaks of selling up his interests in France before the troubles grow too great, and heading for America. Realising that speed is now of the essence, I replied by return on your behalf telling him not to be so foolish. Feeling gloomy himself is no reason for treating his poor family in this way, and I told him so. A second voice of reason may make him see sense.
Madeleine studied the letter for some time, wondering why Charlotte had not commented upon Michael’s mention of a son. Perhaps she was not the only one to have drawn conclusions about Kitty Pettigrew.
Time was running on. Madeleine washed with care, and made good use of the jars that stood on her dressing-table. Many of the creams had a faintly rancid smell, as though kept too long, and she took care to use only the freshest. The scented powder was her favourite. She dusted herself all over with it, then spent the next ten minutes brushing traces of white powder from the dark blue dress she had pulled on rather carelessly.
She chose white gloves to match the sprigs of white flowers on her dress, and a plain straw hat. It was difficult to know what to expect, so Madeleine had chosen the clothes as being up to date but not outlandish.
Sitting down in the window-seat, she spent her wait adding a dark blue ribbon to her hat and thinking about the elusive Michael. If only he could come home, Philip would have a life of his own again. Michael would, of course, sweep Kitty off her feet the instant he arrived, so his brother would have no difficulty there. The way would be open for Miss Leonora Wright to become Philip’s adoring wife, and everyone would live happily ever after.
Everyone except Madeleine. She bit her lip and tried to concentrate on how happy Philip would be, free of Willowbury at last.
Saxton’s Mead wasn’t the grand venue that Madeleine expected. An assortment of farm workers and poor folk sat about on straw bales and watched a knock-about pantomime.
The skills were crude, the songs noisy and half the cast had to be recruited from the audience. Refreshment came from cider flagons passed from hand to hand.
Jack and Philip were only mildly amused by the rustic entertainment, but Madeleine was in her element.
It was just like the street plays in Paris. She even put her fingers to her mouth to whistle at the villain, but remembered her manners just in time. To cover her embarrassment she pretended to nibble her gloves in excitement, like a well-brought-up young lady.
When the play was over, Madeleine was relieved to find that Philip had become a little less tense. During the return journey the two young men entertained her with tales of their time spent as students.
The atmosphere was quite jolly as the carriage crunched up the gravelled drive to Willowbury. Holding his watch to the window, Jack studied the dial.
‘There’s still three-quarters of an hour before Mademoiselle Madeleine’s curfew.’ He grinned. ‘Let’s have a party on the lawn, just the three of us! As I pride myself on being unsafe alone with ladies, mademoiselle, I’ll raid the larder while you and Phil put down the travelling rugs...’
He opened the door and leapt out before the carriage had stopped. Philip had retired into silence again, so Madeleine ventured a question.
‘Do you mind, Master Philip?’
‘When Jack sets his heart on a thing, who am I to refuse him?’
‘If you prefer, I could make some excuse—’
‘No.’ He rose as the coach shuddered to a halt and stepped down to help Madeleine out. She fancied that the light touch of his hand lingered, but shrugged it off as imagination. He had Leonora, after all.
Taking thick woolen rugs from the carriage, they crossed the lawn to find a good place near the river-bank. As Higgins drove the carriage away, the evening closed about them and muffled their footsteps.
‘Your father never went as far as actually disinheriting your brother, Master Philip?’ Madeleine ventured with a careless air.
‘Of course not,’ He said, but kindly. ‘A lot of things were said in the heat of the moment, but Father told me he regretted them as soon as Michael stormed out. It was too late then.’
He stopped walking, which Madeleine took to be a sign he had found the right spot. She shook out the rug she carried, and spread it on the grass.
‘Would you welcome him back, sir, if he was to see sense?’
Philip did not move as she sat down, but stood looking at her. In the evening light his dark hair was all shadow, his pale-featured face serious and watchful.
/> ‘If. But I doubt that he will. We’re too alike—both unwilling to lay ourselves open to shame and ridicule.’
He did sit down then, but a respectable distance away from Madeleine. One elbow resting upon his knee, he sat lost in thought for some time. At last, looking across the misting river, he said quietly, ‘Sometimes I suspect Jack thinks I’m brooding over nothing. Do you, mademoiselle?’
‘Does Jack know the whole story, as you told it to me?’
Philip shook his head. ‘He doesn’t know that what I did—my principles over the awful business with Kitty—was the real reason we lost Michael. And I can’t tell him.’
‘He’s your friend, Master Philip.’ Madeleine lowered her voice to a whisper as Jack came out of the house whistling. ‘I’m sure he’ll understand. Tell him, and he’ll say you made exactly the right decision, and if Michael couldn’t accept that then it was no fault of yours. Go on. Tell Jack. You know what they say—a trouble shared is a trouble halved.’
‘Yes,’ Philip said quietly. ‘And I’ve shared mine with you.’
CHAPTER TEN
Next morning at breakfast Philip was already at the table when Madeleine and Mistress Constance arrived. Although he rose politely and muttered a greeting, Madeleine could see that all was not well.
‘He had been toying with his cutlery, which lay in disarray. Greeting him gaily, Mistress Constance set it to rights for him despite his complaints.
Madeleine was not impressed with this behaviour. ‘To think of all the hours Higgins spends polishing the silver, Master Philip. And all for you to paw it about.’
Without moving his head, he flicked a glance in Madeleine’s direction. He was clearly not in a mood to be jollied along.
As the breakfast trolley clattered into the room, Philip cleared his throat. ‘I thought Leonora and her father might appreciate a trip to Cheltenham, Mother. I was going to invite Jack, too. He and I could stay on in town while the Wrights travel home in the coach this evening.’