An Affair of Honor

by Amanda Scott

  Although she was perfectly well aware that the lace on Rory’s gown—and that on her own, for that matter—had been delivered to the kitchen entrance of Number Twenty-seven less than a week before, Nell thought it wiser to profess ignorance than to confide the information that several of their own servants had relatives in the trade. She had little doubt that Rory, with her romantic soul and her love for Gothic novels, had learned a good deal in Kent before ever coming into Sussex. Nevertheless, she knew also that Rory—though insisting it had been on Ulysses’ account—had spent more time than was proper with Jeremy, and Jeremy had at least two cousins that Nell knew of among the ‘gentlemen.’ Very likely, the young footman had added much to whatever knowledge Rory had had before coming to Brighton.

  She said nothing of this to Huntley, but set herself to coax him into a better mood instead, and by the time he escorted them back to Upper Rock Gardens, she was able to congratulate herself that she had succeeded very well in her efforts. It was not part of her developing plan of campaign, however, to shield him from her niece’s shortcomings, and in the days that followed, Nell was very busy.

  There were moments when she tended to picture herself in the impossible position of second to two parties who had engaged to fight a duel, rather than to marry. But whereas the first duty of a good second was to effect a reconciliation between his principals, Nell no longer retained the slightest vestige of a desire to reconcile them, or even to help them learn how to go on better together. Instead, she meant to part them as quickly and cleanly as possible, for whenever she thought about the possibility of a marriage between them, her teeth seemed to clench together of their own accord and her thoughts showed an uncontrollable tendency to fly back to that afternoon on the Downs. Whenever that happened, it was almost as if she could feel his hands on her again, as if she could feel the very sensations his kisses had stirred throughout her body. He simply could not marry Rory.

  In consequence, she sympathized openly whenever Rory complained of Huntley’s behavior, and even contrived to keep a still tongue in her head when his advanced age and fusty manners were mentioned. And whenever she found herself in his lordship’s company, she took whatever opportunity offered to point out—albeit with a becoming air of reluctance—any of her niece’s shortcomings that he might previously have chanced to overlook. With such tactics as these, it was not long before she was persuaded she was making progress.

  Clearly, Rory was beginning to think less and less of the advantages of being a wealthy countess and more and more of the disadvantages of having a husband who would treat her more like a disobedient, even tiresome, child than like a wife. And Huntley, though he continued to insist that his honor counted for more than any future discomfort, was certainly beginning to concentrate with more misgiving upon the disadvantages of acquiring a very young wife.

  It was not just her youth, of course, as Nell realized rather quickly during her campaign. It was, more specifically, Rory’s upbringing. Again and again she managed to bring into ordinary conversation the fact that Huntley could scarcely hope to undo the work of years in weeks or even months.

  One morning during the course of her campaign she agreed to accompany Rory and her maid to the shops along the Steyne, and when Rory became engrossed in the selection of new fabrics in a particularly stuffy little shop near Donaldson’s Library, Nell took the opportunity to step outside for some fresh air. Not two minutes had passed before she found her elbow in a firm grip.

  “Have you now taken to wandering the streets entirely alone, Miss Lindale?” Huntley demanded as he turned her to face him.

  Admirably concealing her delight at the encounter, she answered saucily, “You will have all the fops ogling us, my lord, if you continue to maul me about. Rory and her Sadie are just inside that shop, but I found the air oppressive and stepped outside for a moment, so you are quite out, and I will thank you to keep your reproofs for those who require them.”

  “For those who attend them, at any rate,” he replied, grinning down at her with a warm look in his eyes that stirred her to her very toes. “I should have known you would not come here alone, my dear. However, I was startled to see you here without Aurora. Should have realized she’d be somewhere close at hand, no doubt purchasing some expensive trifle. Every time I see the two of you here, she has at least a parcel or two. Does the chit never cease wasting the ready?”

  Nell nearly jumped to Rory’s defense before she saw the advantages of the topic. Not, she was forced to admit to herself, that he was far out. “She does spend quite a lot,” she said thoughtfully, avoiding his eye.

  “The devil of a lot if what I’ve seen of her gowns is anything to go by! Crossways must make her an enormous allowance.”

  “Oh, you know how it is, my lord,” Nell replied casually. “She is the eldest, and the apple of his eye. He put no limit on her spending and merely said to send him a Dutch reckoning.”

  “But both your mother and your sister possess an excellent sense of economy,” he protested. “I should have thought that Lady Crossways would have drummed such notions in Aurora’s head.”

  “Indeed, one would think so,” Nell agreed. “However, I fear Clarissa spoils Rory quite as much as Crossways does. No one has ever said she couldn’t have anything she had set her heart upon.”

  She saw that he was thinking deeply and let the subject rest, believing it unnecessary to pursue it further. Nevertheless, when Rory and Sadie came out of the shop, each carrying large bundles, she could have hugged them. Huntley said nothing beyond pointing out that they ought to have brought a footman with them if they meant to make such numerous purchases, but Nell informed him that Trilby was down the way, waiting only for their signal before bringing the carriage to collect them, so there was little more that Huntley could say.

  In the week that followed, she was well pleased with the progress of her campaign and content to let matters take their course. Rory’s depression mounted by leaps and bounds, and Nell was persuaded that one look at her downcast face would convince even Clarissa of the cruelty of forcing the marriage with Huntley. The child was really too young, in her aunt’s opinion, to marry anyone, and it would not hurt her to wait another Season or two. Besides, she would no doubt thoroughly enjoy making a splash in London the following spring. And Clarissa would not count the expense by then, not with two more daughters soon to emerge from the schoolroom. Their come-outs would be less expensive, after all, if Rory was well established and able to assist them. It was not until the Monday evening following Mrs. Calvert’s drum that Nell had cause to reexamine any single portion of her careful reasoning.

  The two younger ladies had planned to attend the assembly at the Castle Inn, as they generally did on Monday evenings. However, Huntley begged off, on account of his presence being commanded for dinner at Mrs. Fitzherbert’s house, and so when Rory pleaded a headache at supper, Nell readily agreed that an evening spent at home would no doubt do them both a great deal of good. They retired to the drawing room with Lady Agnes, leaving Kit to enjoy his glass of port in solitary splendor. Lady Agnes immediately lit a branch of working candles and drew out her fancywork. Nell asked Rory if she would like to play a game of backgammon.

  “No, thank you, Aunt Nell,” replied that young lady, stifling a yawn. “I believe I shall just thumb through the copy of the Ladies’ Monthly Museum that came in the afternoon post, and then go up to bed. Oh, thank you, Jeremy,” she added as the footman entered with Ulysses. She took him, and the kitten promptly began to knit a place for himself in her lap. “Has he had his supper?”

  “Yes, m’lady. And taken care of other matters as well,” replied the young footman in an odd tone. Glancing at him, Nell noticed his eyes were still on her niece and that a somewhat intent look had replaced his usual boyish grin. She hoped he was not getting notions above his station.

  “Oh, good,” Rory said, blithely unaware. “I’ll have Sadie bring him down to you when I go to bed.”

  “Yes, m’lady.
” He gave a small sigh of resignation, then turned to Lady Agnes. “Will there be anything else wanted, ma’am?” She declined, saying only that they would want the tea tray brought in by nine o’clock and that he’d best see Mr. Kit didn’t drink too much port before setting out for wherever he meant to spend the evening. Jeremy bowed again and paused only long enough to stir up the fire before leaving the room. Lady Agnes looked up at Nell, who was just finding her place in the book she was presently reading.

  “I must say, my dear, that Kit has been in much better spirits of late.”

  “Indeed he has,” Nell agreed.

  “Yes, Sir Henry is well pleased with him. I daresay all these new coats he’s been wearing have cost the earth, however.”

  “Don’t let it trouble you, Mama. I am persuaded Sir Henry will not let him outrun the constable,” Nell said with a smile.

  Surprisingly, Lady Agnes did not pursue the matter, though Nell had certainly expected at the very least a few more comments upon Kit’s recent, clearly more expensive lifestyle. Instead, she said merely that she was certain Sir Henry knew just what he was about, and the conversation continued sporadically until all three ladies became engrossed in their separate occupations. There was little noise after that beyond the occasional turning of a page, the crackling of the fire, or a rustling sound when Lady Agnes searched for something in her workbasket. Neither she nor Nell paid much heed when Rory closed her magazine, gave another, somewhat ostentatious yawn, and announced that she simply could not keep her eyes open another moment. Lady Agnes wished her a good night, but it was not until she had reached the doorway that Nell even looked up.

  Then, smiling, she said, “Are you off to bed, then? I hope your headache is better.”

  Rory passed a hand across her forehead. “I expect a good night’s sleep will do the trick, Aunt Nell.”

  “Of course it will.”

  “Do you want some hartshorn, dearest?”

  “Oh, no, Grandmama. That stuff doesn’t agree with me. Sleep is all I need, I promise you. Goodnight.”

  She left, and Lady Agnes raised an eyebrow. “She has not been looking at all well lately, Nell. Do you think she is ailing?”

  “No, Mama, merely fagged. We have been going a rapid pace, you know.”

  Lady Agnes agreed to it and went back to her fancywork. Kit came in a few moments later and announced that he was off to visit friends, and then the ladies were left alone again. Nothing disturbed them for quite half an hour, at which time Pavingham entered the room, and one look at his expression showed that he was big with news. He carried a packet which he handed to Lady Agnes.

  “From Parkhurst, ma’am, by special courier.”

  Lady Agnes’s brow wrinkled slightly. “Good gracious, whatever can Agatha want that requires the expense of a courier?” Pavingham vouchsafed no reply, but neither did he leave. A chief advantage to being an old and trusted servant was that he might expect to have his curiosity appeased. “Merciful heavens!” her ladyship exclaimed as she scanned the first lines of the missive.

  “What is it, Mama?” Nell demanded.

  “Your aunt is ill,” Lady Agnes replied, her lips thinning into a narrow line as she read further. “This is written at her request by her man of affairs. He writes that she is not expected to live out the month. Oh, Nell!”

  Nell jumped up from her chair and ran to kneel beside her. “Mama, you must go to her at once. I shall help you make the arrangements.”

  “Go to her! I should think not,” Lady Agnes replied indignantly. “What good could I do by going to her? I only hope she has not died already. I do not want to be forced back into black dresses. I am fed to the teeth with mourning!”

  Nell repressed a gurgle of laughter, and gave her mother a hug. “I’m persuaded it cannot be so serious, ma’am. Only think how often you have apostrophized Aunt’s man as a doomsday parson and given thanks that Sir Henry handles your affairs. Why, only last year he wrote that Aunt had an inflammation of the lungs when it was nothing more than an epidemic cold. No doubt we shall receive a letter in due course stating that she is quite herself again.”

  But Lady Agnes was not comforted. “No, we shall not. Last year he did not send his message by special courier. Moreover, it would be exactly like Agatha to die just now when you are finally beginning to go about again and might even be so fortunate as to find yourself a husband. Was there ever a family so cursed?”

  Nell did what she could to cheer up her afflicted parent, but nothing would do but that her ladyship must write immediately to inform her elder daughter of the impending tragedy.

  “For even if that dratted man thought to write her, you may depend upon it that he sent the message to Crossways, for he can have no way of knowing they are gone to Chatham. But I shall not send the message by courier. The regular mail will do well enough.” She added that she might just as well attend to the matter at once and asked if Nell would be so kind as to fetch her letter paper and a quill from the table in her boudoir. Nell agreed, choosing to take the back stairs since they were closer. She was a little surprised to meet Sadie on her way, but since the maid was carrying the little gray kitten, she would have thought little more about it had it not occurred to her that Sadie was looking the very picture of guilt.

  XV

  “WHAT IS IT, SADIE?”

  “Oh, nothing, miss,” the maid replied nervously. “’Tis merely you startled me, me not expecting to see you on these stairs. I been putting m’lady’s things away and was just taking Ulysses here down to his bed.”

  “Is your mistress still awake, then?” Nell asked, thinking that if that were the case, she would just step up and tell Rory about Aunt Agatha’s illness and make sure she was comfortable for the night. But her question appeared to agitate Sadie still more. She seemed, even in the dim light of the stairwell, to have gone quite pale.

  “Oh no, miss, she be asleep!”

  “But if she is sleeping, surely you wouldn’t just be coming down from straightening her things,” Nell objected, watching her closely now. Sadie bit her lip.

  “I was quiet, miss,” she muttered defensively.

  “Maybe so,” Nell agreed, “but I think I will just step upstairs and see for myself that her ladyship requires nothing further tonight.”

  “Oh, please, miss,” Sadie gasped. “My lady will be so angry with me. Pray, do not go up!”

  “Well, what is this, then? Have you been up to mischief?” A dozen thoughts passed through Nell’s mind, and she remembered the other servants had been determined to teach Sadie her place. She had heard nothing more of the matter, but perhaps she would have to look into it. Then she realized Sadie was denying that she had done anything, and it occurred to her that the maid rarely spared a thought for anything but her mistress’s needs. It was not Sadie who was likely up to mischief. Suddenly Jeremy’s intent looks earlier in the drawing room took on new meaning, and misgivings stirred, developing rapidly into a deep sense of foreboding as she gazed with narrowed eyes at the maidservant. “Is the Lady Aurora truly sleeping, Sadie? Mind you do not lie to me, for I do indeed mean to go upstairs.”

  Sadie’s lips trembled. “N-no, ma’am.”

  Nell sighed. “Where is she, Sadie?”

  “I dunno.” She saw quickly that Nell disbelieved her, and raised her hand in a quick gesture of protest. “’Tis the truth, Miss Nell. She never told me. I only know she went out looking like the very spit of mischief and wouldn’t say a word about where she was bound.”

  “Good God!” Nell exclaimed. “An assignation!”

  “No, ma’am,” Sadie stated positively.

  “How can you be so certain?”

  “Because she was dressed in boy’s clothes, Miss Nell.”

  With a gasp of pure shock, Nell leaned against the banister, clutching at it for support. “Boy’s clothes. Where on earth—”

  “She had them from home, miss. Often wears ’em out riding. Even Lord Crossways don’t know. My lady cursed Lord Huntley whe
n he insisted she always take a groom, for of course she didn’t dare wear those clothes where anyone else might see her, lest her mama or papa find out.”

  Nell remembered Rory’s own casual reference, soon after her arrival in Brighton, to her habit of donning boy’s clothing when it suited her purposes, and decided the girl must not harbor similar fears with regard to a mere aunt. Her face paled. “Dear God, does that mean she will have gone somewhere all alone now?”

  “No, ma’am, for she couldn’t saddle her horse alone, and at home she carried the clothes in a satchel until she was well away from the house. I expect she’s taken that Joe boy into her confidence. He fair dotes on her ladyship.”

  “Then he is as much of a nodcock as you are, Sadie,” Nell said, not mincing matters as her temper flared again. “I promise you, you have not heard the last of this, for I shall have a deal to say to you later. But now the important thing is to find your mistress before she finds herself in the basket.” She had been thinking rapidly and realized that there was very likely at least one person in the house who would know where Rory had gone. “Don’t cry, Sadie!” she snapped as she realized tears were beginning to course down the maid’s cheeks. “We’ve no time for such nonsense. Go immediately and desire Jeremy to step up to my mother’s boudoir. Tell him to hurry.”

  “Yes, miss.” And Sadie fled, leaving Nell prey to all manner of worrisome conjectures. She very much feared she knew exactly what Rory had taken it into her head to do. Had she not mentioned her interest in the free-traders time and time again? Would it not be exactly like the little wretch to follow her own wishes if she had found some means by which to do so?

  Nell was very nearly wringing her hands when Jeremy entered the boudoir some moments later, looking anxious. “Sadie said I was to come up straightaway, Miss Nell, and she sounded all of a twitter. Be something amiss?”