An instant swell of protectiveness tightened Meg’s every muscle. “It is not my affair—or yours—to be interested in such matters.”
“Oh!” Lady Hester whipped her lorgnette into place.
“Count Etranger is a highborn gentleman. He is his father’s ambassador to England and carries the weight of much responsibility.”
“Is he good-looking?” As usual, Her Ladyship was not to be diverted. “I’ve heard that he is. And that he’s a womanizer.”
“There’s a Miss Lavinia Ash to see you,” Latimer said, his brow rumpled. “She’s resting in Finch’s old room. A bit disconcerting. Just turned up. Sibyl said you don’t know—”
“Kindly desist from interrupting me,” their landlady ordered. “Time enough to deal with that matter later. I have heard of this Upworth woman, Ila. I know of her. She married old Lord Upworth. He must have been near a hundred and probably out of his mind. He certainly was never seen out of a Bath chair. He didn’t have much money, but it was enough to set Ila up—and he left her with a title. She’ll be looking for another husband, of course. That kind will always seek out another man to…well, another man. No doubt Etranger finds her an engaging playmate. How did they behave together, Meg?”
“I hardly saw them together.”
“But when you did?” The lady’s brows rose significantly. “There are those little glances, the sly touches that tell it all.”
Meg bowed her head and fussed with her teaspoon.
“Surely you are not already enamored of the Count yourself? Even a green girl such as you knows a man like that could never be interested in you—unless his appetites are such that he chooses to dally with servants.”
Still Meg could not look up, although she knew her silence was damning.
“Hmm. You do have a charming figure, it’s true. Men like that do not miss such details. And that gown is much too obvious. And that hair. Oh, my dear, have you gone astray already?”
“Stop it,” Sibyl said, startling Meg. “How can you speak to Meg in such a manner? She is sweet and good. The very best of sisters and friends. You shall not sully her ears with terrible suggestions.”
Latimer shifted uncomfortably. “Perhaps you could see Miss Ash now, Meg? She has waited a long time.”
Agitated, Meg gave him her entire attention. “Who is Miss Ash? I don’t know a Miss Ash.”
“Has that man had his way with you?” Lady Hester asked. “If so, speak up at once and I shall have Hunter present your case against him. He will go if I ask him, and advise the Count to make a handsome settlement upon you or face the disgrace of having his dastardly deeds spread before all of London.”
“That is enough, My Lady,” Latimer said, gently enough. “You have become too excited. Please allow me to escort you upstairs.”
“I shall leave when I decide—”
Latimer took her cup and extended an elbow. “We will resume this conversation tomorrow when we’ve all had time to consider quietly. I know your kind heart, My Lady. You would never wish to hurt Meg, yet you are doing so because you do not have the reserves to be considerate at the moment.”
At first it seemed she would not go, but then Lady Hester Bingham rose majestically, accepted Latimer’s arm and let him lead her from the room.
“Oh, Meggie,” Sibyl cried and ran to hug her sister. “I have never been so frightened since Papa’s death. I even thought the coach might have been held up by highwaymen.”
“Forgive me, please. And don’t blame our new employers. It was a misunderstanding. Sibyl, if you are in agreement, you will instruct Désirée in the pianoforte and help with her voice. The Count asked me to tell you they look forward to meeting you in the morning.” There was no point in holding back part of the truth. “Since I am to be the Princess’s right hand, the one she leans on in these trying times—I’m sure I mentioned she is shy—because of these things I shall live at Number Seventeen, in rooms in the Princess’s wing.”
Sibyl clapped her hands to her cheeks. “You can’t, Meggie. Stay at Number Seventeen? Why?”
“I have told you why. And it will not be for so very long.” She breathed deeply and thrust away the sadness that rushed in at the thought of bidding Jean-Marc goodbye. “They will leave once the Season is over.” And she would never see him again.
“But, Meggie,” Sibyl said. “Live at Number Seventeen? No one will understand.”
“I don’t give a fig if they understand or misunderstand. At least I will bring the joy of a good gossip to their dull lives.”
Sibyl turned aside. “I shall miss you.”
Those were the words Meg had expected and dreaded. “I will be close by. And we shall see each other every day. And it will not be for long.”
“I know. And I know I am foolish. Sooner or later you will marry and then I must learn to be alone. I should take this as a fine opportunity to become reliant upon myself.”
“No, no,” Meg said, urging Sibyl to the chaise and pulling her down to sit. “Sibyl, darling, despite my brilliant schemes, it is far more likely that you will marry first. I am only concerned for our livelihood and so I have taken steps to try to make us more secure. But I do expect that the money you and I shall earn working with Princess Désirée may be the only benefit that comes out of my little experiment.
“Of course, I intend to persist in trying to find a good man to make our way easier. Think, Sibyl, if I were to find a pleasant fellow of reasonable means—and he turned out to be agreeable—then I know he would help me present you to some suitable gentlemen. You deserve the very best, dear sister, and I want to be able to give you the opportunity to find the very best.”
Sibyl gave one of her sudden and impish smiles. Impetuously, she drew Meg into an embrace. “You would set the entire world to rights, if you could,” she said. “No wonderful man will pine for me, dearest. You think such a thing might happen because you love me and think me better than I am. But I am going to do my best to support you in your efforts. How wonderful it would be if you did meet a pleasing gentleman whom you could love.
“And I look forward to meeting Princess Désirée. So don’t worry about me anymore. All I care about is that you are safe, and you are. So, la, la, all is wonderful again.”
Meg’s smile began in her heart and suffused her. “If we stand together, no one will be able to foil us. We shall be unbeatable.”
“Yes,” Sibyl said. “Is there anything else to tell me about Number Seventeen or about the Princess.”
Perhaps she would be able to tell Sibyl about Jean-Marc in time, but that could not be now. “Number Seventeen is the most beautiful house. The scale is grand and open. The Princess has charming rooms—and I’m sure mine will also be pleasant. The ones they gave me at Riverside Place—the Count’s English home—those rooms—” She caught her breath, seeing Jean-Marc in the sitting room at Riverside, then in her small, comfortable bedroom where he had eventually undressed and fallen asleep. “They are lovely rooms. Comfortable and light and obviously prepared with a woman’s pleasure in mind.” Pleasure? Meg had certainly found pleasure there, and anxiety, and longing—and self-disgust.
“It sounds lovely,” Sibyl said.
“I’m sure you will also be able to visit,” Meg told her. She could not dwell on the place where she had been together with Jean-Marc. And neither could she think about the kiss they’d shared immediately before she’d departed Number 17 to come here. “Cousin William was so embarrassing, Sibyl. He demanded that I be sent for, and then that I should leave with him.”
“He didn’t!” Sibyl whispered. “How awful. I admire you for resisting.”
“The Count pointed out that William has no right to tell me to go anywhere or do anything. Which is true.”
Meg felt Sibyl looking at her and when their eyes met, there was no doubt that Sibyl was puzzled by Jean-Marc’s interest in Meg’s affairs.
“William postured and demanded and made a frightful cake of himself.”
“Yes, but
William isn’t a man who knows when he should gracefully withdraw. How did you manage to get him to go?”
“He didn’t do so gracefully.” Meg bent her head forward and smiled. “I had to—I found the necessity to go into a trance.”
Sibyl stared before saying, “You didn’t.”
“I did. And very calming it was, too. I simply removed myself to a higher place.”
“Right there?”
“Right there in the Count’s study. I closed my eyes and thought of Puckly Hinton. In spring, naturally. The next thing I was aware of was sinking to sit on the floor, crossing my legs—beneath my gown, of course—and resting my forehead on the carpet. Most pleasant.”
At first Sibyl chuckled, but very quickly her laughter became a high, pealing sound that turned her cheeks pink and squeezed tears from her sparkling eyes. “Then—” she puffed “—then we probably do not have to concern ourselves with our positions at Number Seventeen. Surely you were dismissed.”
“Not at all.” Meg chuckled a little. “The Count would like me to teach him the noble art of abstracted thinking so that he may extricate himself from unpleasant situations. There. What do you think about that?”
“Only you, Meg, only you would do such a thing.”
“You think me a wicked trickster, don’t you?”
“I think you the most delightful sister a girl ever had.” Sibyl flopped against the back of the seat and crossed her arms. “And I am to meet your Princess in the morning.”
“Yes.”
“Hmm. We should relieve poor Latimer of Miss Lavinia Ash. She arrived some time ago, and when she discovered you were not here but would return, announced herself exhausted by her journey and requested she be allowed to rest. Latimer was good enough to give her Finch’s old room.”
Meg didn’t feel like meeting Miss Lavinia Ash, or any other stranger. “Who is she?”
“Apparently she is acquainted with Finch, who suggested she contact you about a position as a dance instructor to Princess Désirée. Lady Hester insists the woman is a pearl and should be snapped up by the Count at once.”
“A dance instructor?” There had been entirely too much to digest in a very short time. “Sent by Finch?”
“She has a letter.”
“I see.” She supposed a dance teacher would be a good idea, especially since invitations to balls and such could start to arrive for the Princess any day. “But why would she come to me rather than to the Count?”
“Because Finch suggested she should.”
Finch could not as yet know that Meg had become the Princess’s companion. “Then I’d best see her.”
A sharp rap sounded at the door, and Sibyl hurried to answer. “Oh, Miss Ash,” she said, “we were about to come and invite you up.”
“How very sweet of you. I heard your sister was returned and thought I should ask if she would see me now—or if I should return later.”
Meg swallowed and turned to the fire. Later, when she would probably be asleep at Number 17. Yes, she did intend to return to…She intended to return to the Princess this evening.
“Come in,” Sibyl said. “Meg and I have been chattering. Meg, this is Miss Lavinia Ash. She has a letter from Finch, recommending her for a post as a dance teacher. Finch also mentioned that Princess Désirée would be in need of such a person.”
Meg faced the newcomer. “Good afternoon, Miss Ash.” Good gracious. “Why don’t you sit down?”
Miss Ash considered the possible places where she might accept the invitation, but remained standing. At least as tall as Adam Chillworth, perhaps taller, the lady was narrow. Narrow of face. Narrow of shoulder, chest and hip. A black silk bonnet with a deep scuttle brim and edged inside with white lace gave her pale face the look of a nun—except for two spots of bright and definitely artificial color high on her cheeks. Her black bombazine dress and pelisse were of an old-fashioned cut. Jet buttons fastening the pelisse were the only adornment, and her skirts were too short. Her highly polished but ancient boots were entirely revealed, as was more than an inch of sticklike limb.
“Er, you have taught dancing before, I understand,” Meg said. If she was to recommend the woman then at least she must ask a few questions.
Miss Ash decided to sit after all and chose to thump herself onto a large, x-framed stool and plant her feet well apart. Her back was so stiff that Meg was certain it must hurt. “I have taught dance for many years,” she said. Her voice sounded as if it rose inside her head and exited through her thinly bridged nose. “Many young ladies have passed through my hands. Very many and all of them from the best of families.”
“Yet you have decided to leave the school to come to London and teach only one young lady?”
Miss Ash’s mouth was of a shade of gray-white and had many vertical creases. “I should have thought that was obvious,” she said, suddenly and sharply, her small blue eyes snapping. With evident effort, she took a breath, folded her hands in her lap and smiled. “One may be forgiven for deciding to make a change, even at my stage in life. I assure you, I am very good at what I do.”
Meg did not think she cared for Miss Ash’s smile, which reminded her of a vexed sheep curling its lip back from long teeth.
“We understand that, don’t we, Meg?” Sibyl said. Sibyl, ever the facilitator.
“Yes, we do,” Meg said. “Forgive me for asking, but are you familiar with the very latest dances?”
That earned Meg another display of sheep’s teeth and a simpering, eyes-down snuffle. “I would do no less than to ask these questions myself,” Miss Ash said. “Yes, my dear, there is no dance with which I am not familiar.” She flapped her lashes upward, and Meg noted that face powder had been applied without consideration to where it might remain. The lady’s scant eyelashes were liberally dusted.
Rather than feeling so particular, she should, Meg thought, be impressed that Miss Ash had the courage to make such a bold move. And it was wrong to be so critical of a plain but good woman.
“I would like to visit the Count in the morning,” Miss Ash said. “And at that time I would expect to interview his sister.”
Meg sputtered. “Interview the Princess?”
Those little eyes grew hard, then cleared. “No, no, no, my dear. I see you misunderstand me. She will want to see how we suit. Men, of course, are logical about such things. Men make up their minds based on sensible considerations, but women, particularly such young women, always want to employ some emotional standards.” Again Miss Ash’s piercing eyes assessed Meg’s reaction. “And emotions must be considered. That is all I meant. In truth, I hope that if you are as impressed as Viscountess Kilrood, you will gladly recommend me.”
That was a point, Meg decided. “I can certainly ask the Count to see you,” she said and immediately felt she assumed far too much. “In the early afternoon, I should think. Would that be agreeable?”
Miss Ash frowned. “If that’s the best that can be done.”
“Well, I shall not return there myself until a little later. I—” She caught Sibyl’s troubled eye. “I am here to visit my sister. She will be teaching the Princess voice and pianoforte. So perhaps the two of you will become a fine complement to my mistress’s instruction. We will get a message to you in the morning. Where do you stay?”
“Mm, with a cousin in Chelsea. But she is a recluse and, apart from me, will see nobody. I will return here in the morning to await word.” She stood up. “Don’t worry about me. I am perfectly accustomed to discomfort. I will remain in the vestibule until you decide—until you can send for me.”
“Well—”
“I’ll take my leave of you. And you, Miss Sibyl. I look forward to hearing you play. I find the young pianist is generally in too much of a hurry, regardless of how good they are and of the sedate nature of the piece. I have discovered that very little music was ever intended to be other than sedate, you know. Until the morning.”
Miss Ash bowed low, and departed.
“What has happened
to our lovely, peaceful life?” Sibyl said as soon as they were alone. “Everything is changing and I don’t like it. I don’t want you to go back to Number Seventeen tonight. Why should you have to do so when you are already so near? You could be summoned in the night if necessary. But surely going early each morning would be ample.”
“A companion lives with her mistress, Sibyl. Please, think of this as the most wonderful opportunity for us. We are bound to meet people and who knows, probably find further employment when the Count and his sister have left.”
“Someone will want to marry you, I know they will. And I am excited for you, Meggie, honestly I am, but I have always been a silly goose when I have to think about what I should do with myself.”
“I will not leave you alone,” Meg said. “There. I have told you as much before, and now I tell you again. Please believe me. These are difficult times for me, also, but I know we shall be glad of them in the end.” She would also never be the same. “I shall change and gather a few things to take with me.”
Sibyl said nothing. She left the flat as soon as Meg had gone into her bedroom. Not so long ago Hunter Lloyd had been in the habit of passing through the house much more often than he did of late. Sibyl wished he would come this way now because she trusted him and could rely on him to listen without judgment. And, if she asked, he would advise her. But Hunter was becoming a famous barrister and so busy he did little more than rush into Number 7 to sleep. Usually he left again before the rest of the household was up.
“So thoughtful, Sibyl?” Latimer More spoke from the foyer.
Sibyl leaned on the banisters and looked down at his upturned face. “Meg will return to Number Seventeen this evening. She tells me companions must live with their mistresses.”
Latimer glanced away.
“It sounds foolish, and selfish, but I am already missing her.”
“Not selfish at all,” Latimer said.
She studied the lean lines of his face, and the manner in which light made his dark brown hair shine a little red. Such a quiet, self-contained man, yet willing to be a friend when he was needed.
All Smiles Page 14