After a small silence, she looked at him. His gaze locked with hers, and in that moment something happened that neither would later be able to explain. In the first second or so, he thought it was no more than an unnatural (considering that he felt like murdering her) awareness that her eyes were not truly silver, but blue, with a sunburst of white rays coming from the pupils. But he knew it was much more than that, a different kind of awareness, one that stirred feelings far removed from anger.
“You know I cannot say he would approve,” she said quietly. “He would probably feel like doing just what you want to do to me.”
“I doubt that,” he said dryly.
“Well, he has never beaten me, so I daresay he would not threaten it, but I am not sure that he would not want to. And he can certainly make me quake in my shoes when he gets angry with me.”
“Since he knows you well, perhaps he will realize there was provocation.”
“Even so, he would say that I ought to have ignored it, and he would be right. At the very least he will be exceedingly disappointed in me.”
To his shock, tears welled into her beautiful eyes, and he felt a nearly overwhelming impulse to make them go away again. Before he could think of anything to say, however, she added, “I don’t know what came over me. I certainly know better than to set my opinions against Her Majesty’s. She began it, of course, by commenting on an observation that was not intended for her ears. Still, she is the queen, and I ought simply to have apologized and then kept silent.”
Since this analysis exactly matched his own, it was with dismay that he heard himself say, “She did provoke your response, and that was not well done of her. It is not always easy to hold one’s tongue merely because it is the proper thing to do.”
Her eyes widened with surprise. “Mercy, sir, I never expected to hear you say such a thing.”
“I never expected it, either,” he retorted.
She managed a watery chuckle as she pulled a lacy handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed her eyes. “You must think me a dreadful watering pot, but I am no such thing, I promise you. I rarely give way to tears. Moreover, I was about to explain to you that, in a way, it was perhaps your fault that this happened.”
“Indeed?”
“Mercy, you sounded just like her when you said that!” This time her laughter was more natural. “Don’t frown. I meant it before when I said it was my fault. But I think it’s because of you that I felt obliged to puff off my reasons to her. The same impulse overcame me at dinner, you see.”
“Bombay banks?”
“Yes, I knew you were listening, because you looked at me as if you felt sorry for me, or thought I was helpless before the flood of my partner’s discourse. I wanted to show you it was no such thing, and so I succumbed to a horrid temptation to show off what I knew about the East India Company. I think your presence again just now stirred me to debate Jamaica with Her Majesty.”
“You don’t have to impress me, you know.”
“Impress you! I wanted to silence you, to show you that I’ve got a brain and don’t need you or anyone else to give me advice.” She grimaced ruefully. “Instead I have probably managed to get myself banished from Her Majesty’s court.”
Still feeling strongly that she deserved a scolding, but wholly unable to deliver it, he said, “Perhaps it will not be so bad as that. Still, you ought to go back into the drawing room before someone else comes in search of you. I think it would be better—if you will not dismiss my advice this time—if you go ahead of me.”
“Yes, it would, because Lady Tavistock would think I had been flirting with you again if we went in together.”
“Again?”
Her eyes danced. “Yes, she scolded me for flirting that first day, when I spoke with you. It was the time you accused me of accosting you.”
He smiled. “In that event, you can definitely go in by yourself. I shall wait a good long time before following, too.”
The wry look she gave him told him that she had recovered her equilibrium, but he could tell, too, that she expected worse to come. The fact that Victoria might dismiss her disturbed him more than he would have thought possible even half an hour earlier. Banishment from court would ruin her, and he knew of only one person with sufficient influence to keep that from happening.
Letty walked away with her head high, but inside she felt an odd and most uncharacteristic mixture of irritation and dejection. Not one to give way to her sensibilities, she felt irritated that Raventhorpe, of all people, had seen her at a weak moment. More than that, though, she was angry with herself for twice giving way to a childish impulse.
No one, in her opinion, was more boring than a person who puffed off his or her political ideas to others who did not want to hear them. Of course, others often encouraged her to express hers, but such encouragement generally came from within her family. She certainly could not say no one had ever taught her to curb her tongue in public, or in diplomatic circles. If Victoria’s court did not count in the latter category, she did not know what would.
“Letitia!” Catherine hurried toward her. “I thought you would never come. Lady Tavistock has twice asked what became of you. I told her I thought you were feeling unwell.”
“Thank you,” Letty said with sincerity.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Catherine said with an impish grin. “Her ladyship informed me that maids of honor are not allowed to be ill. Unfortunately, Puck Quigley overheard her, and said that that had been made clear to all and sundry by the Marquess of Hastings’ letters about Lady Flora in the Times.”
Letty groaned. She had met Puck Quigley and liked him. He was as open and friendly as a puppy, and although he had no head for politics, he occasionally turned a phrase in an amusing way. His comment about Lady Flora would not have amused the chief lady of the bedchamber, however. “Where is Lady Tavistock?”
“Yonder with the queen, of course. You know Her Majesty likes to keep her ladies swarming round her. Was she furious with you? I fled, thinking the less she saw of me the better, but I feel as if I abandoned you. Whatever got into you?”
“The devil,” Letty said flatly. She drew a long, steadying breath. “Shall we go to her?”
“Yes, we must, for the entertainments are about to begin. Lady Portman’s daughter is to recite a poem about the Battle of Waterloo.”
As they made their way to the group around the queen, Letty saw that, as usual, the company would remain standing, even for the entertainment. Sitting in the queen’s presence was a rare privilege, and not one that Letty ever expected to enjoy.
Half an hour later she learned she was wrong about that, when Victoria said clearly, “Lady Letitia, we are told that you perform quite tolerably. Doubtless the company would enjoy a ballad or two, if you will honor us at the pianoforte.”
Swallowing the fervent protest that leapt to her lips, Letty said in a strangled voice, “Certainly, Your Majesty.” Feeling every eye upon her, she made her way to the instrument, fighting a strong urge to turn and flee from the room.
Her brain seemed frozen. She could not recall a single piece that would not blindingly reveal her lack of practice. She had not laid hand to keyboard since her arrival in London, and other than to place the sheets in alphabetical order when she and Catherine had sorted them earlier, she had paid little heed to the titles.
Clearly, the queen meant to punish her, for Victoria could not have heard anything good about her performance at the pianoforte. There were people present, of course, who had heard her play and sing in Paris, but all of them were diplomats by trade, and none of them would have put her on the spot like this.
By the time she reached the stool, she had herself under sufficient control that she was able to pick up a stack of music and begin to leaf through it, as if she knew what she was doing. That she did not was doubtless the reason she did not sense Raventhorpe’s approach before he touched her arm.
Startled, she looked at him wildly.
He smiled
and took the music from her hand. “I glanced through these earlier,” he said smoothly. “I think the material you want is in this other pile.”
She swallowed again, wholly bewildered. “Is … Is it, sir?”
“Yes, there are a number of rather amusing French and German folk songs in this lot. I am sure you must know most of them.”
He showed her the first one, and when she nodded blankly, he set it on the music rack, saying, “I’ll play for you, shall I?”
“If only you could! But the queen said—”
“She said only that the company would enjoy some ballads. These may not be ballads, exactly, but the company will enjoy them. You can sing, can’t you?”
“Yes. Yes, certainly I can sing those. They are little more than nursery songs. Anyone could sing them.”
“Only someone who speaks French and German fluently could sing them well, however, and the beauty of their simplicity is that most of this company will understand them. The queen certainly will.” He took his seat as he spoke, and his hands hovered briefly over the keys. Then he played a few bars of the first piece.
The buzz of conversation, which had continued even through the recitation earlier, suddenly ceased.
Knowing that to avoid the queen’s gaze at this juncture would be foolhardy, Letty straightened, folded her hands at her waist, and focusing on the space between Victoria’s eyes, began to sing.
The first song told an amusing tale of a mischievous cat, and by the third verse, members of the audience were chuckling, then laughing outright. Letty had a good sense of timing, and as she relaxed and began to enjoy herself, she became more animated, playing up the humor in the songs she sang. She forgot the queen after those first few moments, but midway through the third song, she glanced at her and saw a slight smile. Not a huge triumph, she decided, but certainly not the disaster she had feared.
At the end of the fourth song, she smiled and turned to thank Raventhorpe. Several people called for another, but when she shook her head, Lady Tavistock said clearly, “Thank you, Lady Letitia. We will not impose further on your good nature. Miss Hayworth has generously agreed to play Mr. Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata for us now.”
Sincerely grateful to Miss Hayworth, Letty turned to express even deeper thanks to Raventhorpe. “I don’t know what I’d have done,” she said frankly.
“It was my pleasure, Lady Letitia,” he said with a formal little nod. Then, as he turned to replace the music, he said grimly for her ears alone, “Do not think I am through with you yet. You still deserve—”
Before he could continue, Miss Hayworth was upon them, saying in a gushing way, “Oh, Lord Raventhorpe, I do not know how I dare to take your place here. Everyone knows how skilled you are on this instrument, whilst I am but the merest novice. I protest, sir, I am quite petrified with terror.”
“Don’t be absurd, Miss Hayworth,” he said. “You play well, and no one paid heed to my performance when Lady Letitia was singing.”
Tittering behind one gloved hand, Miss Hayworth turned to Letty and said, “Isn’t he the kindest man? Your songs were quite amusing, of course, but everyone knows how well he plays. Even with those funny little songs, one could tell.”
“Yes, indeed they could,” Letty said, smiling at her. “Shall I perhaps move this branch of candles so the light will fall more clearly on your music?”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I know this piece by heart, naturally.”
“Naturally,” Letty said.
Raventhorpe’s hand at her elbow tightened as he guided her away from the pianoforte. Then, with a slight bow, he left her and walked away.
Watching him, she was aware yet again of the mixed emotions the man stirred in her. She did feel exceedingly grateful to him, and would have liked to express that gratitude more profoundly. At the same time, she was certain that he had tightened his hand on her elbow as a warning to watch how she spoke. Worse, she could not decide whether he had intended the arrogant nod and bow as he left to tell her or the company at large that he had done no more than assist a competent singer by playing for her.
She had no time to consider her emotions, however, because Lady Tavistock approached as the first few bars of the Moonlight Sonata wafted across the room. “The dowager Lady Kirkland is feeling unwell, Letitia. Be so good as to take her to my chamber and ask my woman to look after her until her carriage can be sent for.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Letty turned to look for Lady Kirkland.
“One moment,” Lady Tavistock said sternly. “I have not dismissed you.”
“Forgive me, ma’am.” Letty assumed an inquiring look, striving to repress unkind thoughts of how much Lady Tavistock enjoyed the power she wielded.
“Her Majesty expects to leave for the riding school at eight o’clock in the morning. Do not be late.”
Allowing doubt to tinge her voice, Letty said, “No ma’am, I won’t.”
“Her Majesty particularly desires your company,” Lady Tavistock added, showing that she understood Letty’s doubt and did not find it out of place. “She will not require it again after her excursion to the riding school, however, so you will have the rest of the day free to contemplate your duty.” Having thus made it clear that Letty was to present herself so early as punishment, she added, “You will find Lady Kirkland sitting quietly in the guard room, near the landing entrance.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Dismissed at last, Letty went in search of Lady Kirkland, whom she knew only as an elderly dowager who seemed friendly with the queen’s mother. She found her sitting with Catherine in the guard room.
The other young woman looked up with a smile. “You are surprised to see me here,” she said. “I overheard Lady Tavistock say she would fetch you, so I stepped out with Lady Kirkland so she would not find herself bereft of company whilst she waited for you. She is feeling much more the thing now, I believe.”
“Perhaps you might ask me,” the old woman said tartly.
To save Catherine the embarrassment of responding, Letty smiled and said, “Do you feel well enough to retire to Lady Tavistock’s rooms now, ma’am? She said that I might take you there to await your carriage.”
“What, go up the stairs and down again, when I could more comfortably wait in the hall? Don’t be absurd, get.”
“I merely obey orders, ma’am. I shall do precisely as you command.”
“Then send someone to fetch my woman. I daresay Anna Maria never thought of that: She’s a considerate child, though a bit of a jumping jack, and I daresay it wouldn’t suit her to sit in the hall, so she assumes it don’t suit me. But I don’t mind. Much easier on an old body, when all is said and done.”
Finding it hard to suppress her amusement at the thought of the demanding (and greying) marchioness seeming childlike to anyone, Letty avoided Catherine’s gaze. “I will be glad to take you down to the hall, ma’am,” she said to the dowager. “Moreover, I will stay with you until your woman joins us. Perhaps Catherine will not mind asking one of the footmen to be sure that someone went to fetch her.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” Catherine said instantly. “I believe Lady Tavistock did send someone, but I can find out very quickly.”
“You are a kind child, Letitia,” Lady Kirkland said as they descended the stairs slowly to the grand hall. “I don’t care what anyone else says.”
“Dear me, ma’am, I hope no one has been saying anything too horrid.”
“Well, I did hear that you are a Tory,” Lady Kirkland said, shooting her a glance that held a wicked twinkle. “However, I have lived long enough to know that one’s politics rarely have much to do with one’s character.”
“Well, if that is all you heard, then—”
“Oh, that wasn’t all,” the old lady interjected airily.
Letty had begun to suspect that Lady Kirkland felt perfectly well, and merely had been bored and ready to go home. Since protocol demanded that no one leave a royal dinner before the queen had retired
, it would not be the first time that someone had employed such a stratagem.
“Dare I ask what else you have heard?” she asked, deciding the old lady would appreciate bluntness more than tact.
“That would be telling,” Lady Kirkland said archly. “Still, although I like you, there are others who don’t, so you mind your step, get.”
Recalling that the dowager was close to the Duchess of Kent, Letty asked no more questions and, when they were seated in the grand hall, changed the subject to one less likely to stir coals. They had only a few minutes to wait, however, before Catherine appeared with a woman who proved to be the dowager’s companion. Her carriage arrived shortly thereafter.
“She recovered nicely from her indisposition,” Catherine said with a knowing smile.
Letty nodded but said nothing. She was beginning to feel comfortable with Catherine, and she wanted to know her better, but she was not yet ready to trust her with statements that would not bear repeating to the world at large.
They went upstairs together to find that in their absence the queen had retired. The rest of the party was preparing to do likewise, but there were still duties to attend. It was another hour before Letty was able to slip away to her chamber.
She was very tired, so when she walked in to find Miss Dibble sound asleep in the one comfortable chair, and no sign of Jenifry, her irritation stirred.
Shaking Miss Dibble, she said, “Wake up, do, Elvira. Where is Jenifry?”
Blinking away sleep, Miss Dibble sat bolt upright and said, “Good gracious, what time is it?”
“Nearly two,” Letty said, “and I must be back here before eight tomorrow morning. Where’s Jen?”
“Isn’t she here?”
“Elvira, wake up and look around you. This room is not so large as that.”
Rubbing her eyes, Miss Dibble got to her feet. “You must be exhausted, for I’ve no doubt you have been on your feet since dinner. Sit down, child. Sit down.”
Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 04] Page 14