Lady Reluctant

by Maggie Osborne

  Blu’s chin firmed in a stubborn line. “I’ll not sup in company where Monsieur is unwelcome.”

  “Mama?” Cecile interceded in a gentle voice. “Perhaps Monsieur could join us?” Lady Katherine’s jaw was as stubbornly set as Blu’s. Cecile looked back and forth between them, her delicate features drawn with distress. “Perhaps we could effect a compromise. Monsieur could dine with us on the nights we have no company.”

  Without looking away from Blu, Lady Katherine spoke to Aunt Tremble. “I cannot conceive that you would agree, Tremble. Please give us the benefit of your opinion.”

  “Oh dear, oh dear.” Tiny birdlike hands fluttered above the china. Aunt Tremble sucked in her cheeks, her faded eyes blinked rapidly. “I suppose... I have never before dined with a servant... but then, I suppose I have no deep objection... but it would set a precedent, Katherine... on the other hand we have always respected the customs of those from other countries... so long as no one ever knows... it would be comforting to have a man at table again... oh dear.” Lady Katherine’s disapproval reduced Aunt Tremble to stuttering then to silence.

  “Fetch Monsieur to me,” Lady Katherine instructed Mr. Apple. Startled, then disapproving, Mr. Apple vanished, reappearing a few minutes later with Monsieur in tow.

  Before stepping forward, Monsieur spat on his hands and smoothed back his wig. He rubbed his spectacles on his sleeve then pushed them up his nose. At a glance, he took in the three ladies seated at table and Blu’s impatient stance near the door.

  “How may I be of service, Madame?” he inquired uneasily, bowing low.

  “Miss Morgan refuses to dine unless you join us at table. Please inform her you have no wish to do so.”

  Promptly, Monsieur turned to face Blu. “Dear Blusette, I recognize and appreciate your gesture, but Lady Katherine is quite correct. It would be improper for such as myself to join this exalted group.” A wave of his handkerchief included Aunt Tremble and Cecile, who observed him with appalled fascination. Tonight he wore a brocade suit plundered from a Spanish frigate which would have done justice to the Spanish king. The fit was unfortunate, but the splendor was unequaled.

  Blu’s eyes revealed the betrayal she felt. She had been prepared to cook and eat in her room rather than abandon Monsieur. But he had capitulated on the instant.

  “Ye scurvy slug,” she hissed. “I want yer arse here. Despite yer bloody bowing and scraping, yer not a servant to be hidden about below stairs!”

  “For shame!” Monsieur said, stiffening. “To hear you speak, one could imagine you lacked instruction.” He slid an apologetic glance toward Lady Katherine. “Kindly recall yourself and speak as you have been taught.”

  “You scurvy slug,” Blu repeated, grinding her teeth. “I want your arse here.” But a hint of despair damped the fire in her gaze. Where could she turn if Monsieur abandoned her?

  Cecile pushed back from the table and signaled Mr. Apple to roll her chair to a position beside Blu. For an instant, her steady blue eyes met Blu’s, then she lifted her chin and swept a glance over her mother’s lifted brow before settling on Monsieur.

  “My sister and I are in revolt, Monsieur.” Everyone stared at her. “Unless you do us the honor of joining us at table, my sister and I refuse to dine.”

  Blu’s stare widened to amazement. Her amazement was nothing next to that of Lady Katherine and Aunt Tremble. They regarded Cecile as if they were observing an aberration of massive proportion. High color flamed on Cecile’s porcelain cheeks and Blu noticed a tremble in the hands that gripped the arms of her chair, but the stubborn set of her chin did not waver.

  After a lengthy hesitation, Lady Katherine raised a cold smile. “You will join us, Monsieur. Just this once.”

  “Do,” Aunt Tremble echoed faintly. Her rings flashed over the linen and silver in an apologetic gesture. “There is no one to see.”

  A scandalized expression constricted Monsieur’s small, sharp features. “Oh, no, no, no. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for extending this great honor, but I could not! Me? At Your Ladyship’s table? Oh dear me, no.”

  Cecile reached for Blu’s hand. The color deepened in her cheeks. “Would you deny us our supper, Monsieur? Can you care so little for us?”

  “Oh dear. Oh dear me.” Monsieur mopped his forehead. A shower of powder cascaded from his wig to his shoulders. He examined the coldness in Lady Katherine’s gaze, considered the two young ladies waiting in the doorway. Cecile’s glance cajoled; Blu’s threatened. “Just this once,” he murmured finally, accepting the chair Mr. Apple extended for him. He cast Mr. Apple a glance that begged forgiveness, then tucked his napkin into his neck.

  “Thank you,” Blu said to Cecile, looking down at her sister’s pale loveliness. Cecile smiled before Mr. Apple wheeled her back to her place at table. Blu seated herself and studied Cecile a moment before she swung a glare toward Monsieur.

  She understood her victory was only temporary. At once she recognized Monsieur was acutely uncomfortable. On Morgan’s Mound Monsieur had been Beau Billy’s friend and confidant. If an aristocracy could be said to exist on Morgan’s Mound, Monsieur had enjoyed a position near its head. But here, in Lady Katherine’s home, Monsieur had reverted to habits established in the past. A gentleman’s gentleman did not dine at the master’s table. In an agony of discomfort, Monsieur diligently applied himself to eating and held his conversation to a minimum, although Blu noticed his sharp bright eyes missed nothing she did. To judge if she acted properly, she had only to note whether the powder shaking from Monsieur’s new wig fell forward onto his chest and plate or sideways upon his shoulders.

  Once again she silently thanked the Duke for instructing her in the use of a fork. Only twice did she find it necessary to pick something up with her fingers and push it onto the tines before placing the fork in her mouth.

  When the silence had lengthened, Blu raised her eyes to Cecile. “Why can’t you walk?” she asked. To her surprise Lady Katherine sucked in a sharp breath and Aunt Tremble gasped.

  “Oh dear, oh dear.” Aunt Tremble snapped open her fan and fanned her face with rapid fluttery strokes that sent the curls in front of her ears flying backward. One hand patted her heart.

  Lady Katherine’s tone was as frosty as her eyes. “One does not ask such rude thoughtless questions. It is not to be tolerated!”

  Powder rained across Monsieur’s shoulders as he shook his head, but in truth he appeared as mystified as Blu.

  Cecile’s sweet quiet voice startled them all. “If Blusette is rude, Mama, then I wish everyone were so. Instead, my condition is ignored. Sometimes I could think my legs are as invisible as the wind for all the notice anyone takes.” She looked down the table at Blu and smiled with calm resignation. “I appreciate your directness.”

  Lady Katherine stared. “You astonish me, Cecile. Whatever has come over you tonight?”

  In for a dive, in for a swim, Blu thought. Ignoring the others, she repeated her question. “What happened to you?”

  “It was a runaway carriage. My father, Lord Paget, and I were driving to Epsom to take the water when the horses bolted. The carriage overturned. My father was killed, and I lost the use of my legs.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “You should say you are sorry,” Monsieur whispered across the table.

  Although everyone could overhear them, Blu followed his lead and whispered also. “Why would I be sorry? I didn’t know Lord Paget.”

  “It is proper to express condolences on learning of a death.”

  “But what if Lord Paget was a poxy whoring son of a bitch?” Blu whispered. “Do we know for a fact that he was not? Maybe everyone here was overjoyed when he was smashed on the road. In which case a condolence would be an insult, would it not?”

  Lady Katherine dropped her head into her hands; Aunt Tremble fanned herself so rapidly the edge of the fan blurred; Mr. Apple stood rigidly behind Lady Katherine’s chair, his face carved of stone. Only Cecile managed a pale smile.


  “I assure you my father was not a... not a... what you said. His loss is greatly mourned.”

  “In that event, I offer my condolences,” Blu murmured. Monsieur beamed. Another crisis had been averted. “How long has the bloke been croaked?” she asked politely before turning to look at Aunt Tremble. Aunt Tremble’s eyes were closed and she was making small hiccuping sounds. Her fan blew her curls up toward the feathers dressing her wig.

  “The accident occurred over a year ago. I’ve been confined to this chair ever since.”

  Interested, Blu wiped her lips with the hem of the tablecloth and leaned forward. When she noticed her bodice dragged in her plate, she rubbed at the gravy stain on her breast, hoping she did it properly, then addressed herself to Cecile.

  “You never get out of the chair?”

  “Very seldom.”

  “How do you piss?”

  Lady Katherine groaned and pushed her plate away. She nodded at Mr. Apple to remove the china and raised her goblet for more wine, which she swallowed in a gulp. Aunt Tremble pressed smelling salts to her nose.

  “Did I say something amiss?” Blu asked Monsieur, frowning. He appeared as puzzled as she.

  Bright color warmed Cecile’s cheeks and she drew a breath, resolutely not looking toward Lady Katherine. “There is a chamber pot attached to the chair seat,” she explained.

  “Really? But that’s marvelous! May I see it?”

  “Perhaps later,” Cede murmured, the color intensifying in her cheeks.

  “Also, Isabelle and I would like to ride in your chair to see how it feels. That is, if you wouldn’t mind. We—”

  Abruptly, Lady Katherine stood in front of her chair. “That is quite enough!” Anger blazed from her gaze. “Cecile’s misfortune is not a topic for dinner conversation. I will not permit you to amuse yourself at my daughter’s expense!”

  “I wasn’t—”

  “Tremble and Cecile, we shall take coffee in my chamber. Monsieur, perhaps you will see Miss Morgan to the drawing room. I feel certain there is much you wish to discuss.” Without a backward glance, Lady Katherine swept from the room.

  Blu considered the supper she had barely sampled, then spread her hands with an annoyed sigh. “What did I do to offend her this time?”

  “Truly, I do not know.”

  They watched as Mr. Apple pushed Cecile from the room and Aunt Tremble hurried after.

  “God’s balls!” Blu yanked her napkin from her bodice and threw it on the floor. She recalled the Duke saying something about the aristocracy being schooled in manners as subtle and nearly invisible as a spider’s web. How right he was. “I want to go home,” she whispered miserably. “Oh, how I long to go home!”

  ~ ~ ~

  Lady Katherine paced her chamber in undisguised rage. “Servants at table! Conversation more fitting for a farmyard than polite society! What am I to do? That... that creature is utterly hopeless!”

  “She knows no better, Mama,” Cecile, said calmly. “We shall teach her.”

  “You.” Lady Katherine turned at the window and stared at her daughter. “You stood beside her and joined her in forcing the issue! Your behavior was inexcusable!”

  “I apologize for defying you.” Anxiety brushed the color from Cecile’s smooth cheeks. “But... she seemed so alone, Mama.”

  “Really, Cecile. One can have too tender a heart. I assure you Blusette Morgan needs no champion!” Katherine raised a hand to her forehead. “What is the world coming to when my gentle, timid Cecile must go to the defense of a wild creature like Blusette Morgan?”

  “Think how we must seem to her. How strange and foreign London must be.” A plea entered Cecile’s eyes. “Mama, they didn’t know about chamber pots.”

  “They’re savages. All of them!”

  “A savage is someone without benefit of education. We must educate them.” She bit her lip, then looked up. “No one asks about the accident, Mama. We all pretend it did not happen. I found her directness a relief. Charming, even.”

  “Good heavens. Tremble, wake up, I need you. Enlighten Cecile with your opinion of Blusette Morgan.”

  Aunt Tremble’s eyes fluttered and she pulled herself upright in her chair. “Oh dear, dear, I must have dozed off. I did drink too much wine, didn’t I? Is the whore here?”

  “Tremble, we’re speaking of Blusette.” Exasperation thinned Lady Katherine’s tone.

  “Such a handsome girl. Is she very like her father, Katherine?” Aunt Tremble tugged at the curls in front of her ears, pulling them forward. “Did I faint at table?”

  “Only once, Aunt,” Cecile said, patting her hand. “When Blusette asked how I... well, surely you recall about the chamber pot. Then, you swooned.”

  “It’s so wretched to possess a sensitive nature,” Aunt Tremble grumbled. Her aged lips formed into a pout. “I miss everything interesting.”

  “You are both behaving abominably!” Lady Katherine fixed them with a stare. “Why do you insist on defending her?”

  “Why must you attack her?” Cecile countered softly.

  They looked at each other, then Katherine’s shoulders dropped. “Dearest Cecile, I pray you will not allow this creature to come between us.”

  “I like her very much. The creature is my sister, Mama.”

  “An error I shall regret to the end of my days,” Katherine said bitterly. The past, which she had believed safely behind her, had surfaced with a vengeance. And it still held the power to destroy her name and her life.

  ~ ~ ~

  Blu clasped her hands in front of her and stood in the very center of Lady Katherine’s drawing room lest she bump and break one of Lady Katherine’s objets d’art. On occasion she had wondered what use was made of the figurines and vases and enameled boxes that Beau Billy fenced then sold on Cape Hatteras. Now she knew, but she no longer cared.

  “Trying to converse in this ken is like trying to march through a battlefield without armor! I never know when a cannon will explode before me or a scab fire at my blind side!” Tilting back her head, she stared at the cherubs scrolled across the ceiling and chewed her lips. “Why can’t I ask about Cecile’s accident?”

  “I have no notion,” Monsieur responded. Lifting an ivory figurine, he inspected it through his spectacles then released a sigh of rapture. “Worth a small fortune even on the Mound.”

  “Are we supposed to pretend Cecile is not confined to a chair? Is it rude then to notice the obvious?” Blu threw out her hands then hastily folded them back against her skirt.

  “I feel so inadequate,” Monsieur murmured. Flicking out his handkerchief, he pressed the lace edge to his upper lip. “I have failed you and your father. There is so much I do not know. So much I have forgotten.”

  Blu’s scowl faded to despair. “I just want to go home,” she whispered, her shoulders dropping. “I hate it here. Is there no way we can escape?”

  “Not until you become a lady. We’re doomed.”

  “What?” Blu’s head snapped up. She stared at him, her mind racing, then a slow smile curved her lips. “Of course,” she said after thinking it through. “Once I become a lady, we can trig it. So. It doesn’t matter if I become a lady or not, does it? I simply have to appear to be a lady. Then we can show them all the backs of our hands!”

  A hopeful look brightened Monsieur’s eyes. “Does this mean you will do as Lady Katherine instructs?”

  “I have been looking down the wrong end of the glass, I see that now. Instead of crossing swords, I should be standing on Lady Katherine’s side of the mast. That is how we get home, Monsieur!” She felt like dancing him about the room, but she did not dare. The tug of war she had been waging in her mind dissolved on the instant. Now, she saw her path clearly. “All I have to do is follow the buffle rules until Her High-and-mighty pronounces me fit, then this caw-handed nonsense is finished! And we sail home!”

  “That is all it ever was, Blusette,” said Monsieur, looking baffled.

  “But I failed to under
stand until now.” She had been steeped in resentment and thoughts of her mother, But the past week had proven that she and Lady Katherine would remain strangers. That was agreeable. Blu had managed bloody well without a mother thus far, she could continue to do so. Bugger Lady Katherine. It was time to get on with the plan to return home to Morgan’s Mound. All that was needed was a bit of flam. And that she could do.

  “I shall be a lady quicker than a fish’s blink,” she announced briskly. A twinkle appeared in her eye. “As this is me final eve as a true person, I think we should pass it profitably. Fetch Mouton and Isabelle—ye’ll find her bedded down in the mews—and let us find a grog house for a bit of pleasure afore we settle into ladyhood.”

  “I don’t think Lady Katherine—”

  “Tomorrow and all the tomorrows thereafter we shall judge our actions by what Lady Katherine would wish. Tonight, dear Monsieur, we do what we wish! And I think we need a tankard or three of sky blue and a jig and maybe a bloke or two to thrash.”

  They contemplated one another for a moment, then linked arms and went in search of Mouton and Isabelle.

  ~ ~ ~

  Thomas leaned back in his chair and smiled at the men surrounding his desk. Five iron chests rested on his desktop; four chests for his investors, one chest containing the King’s third. His own chest had been rowed ashore by Mr. Pastor and his profits sealed in the vault beneath his London town house.

  “I think you will be pleased, gentlemen,” he said as Mr. Pastor, brushed and liveried for the occasion, served an excellent port to all present.

  “Once again congratulations are in order, Your Grace.” Lord Whitesall raised his glass.

  When his name had been cheered and his health drunk, Thomas raised a dark brow. Unless he was mistaken Lord Humphershire’s silence bordered on insult. He slipped a glance toward Sir Loren Battersea, who had invited Lord Humphershire as his guest. The only purpose for inviting a guest to a sharing out would be to whet the guest’s appetite for future ventures. Even if Thomas had contemplated another voyage, he would have rejected Humphershire as an investor. The man’s sly hooded glance confirmed his unsavory reputation.