by Joan Vincent
“It is not yours to question her ladyship. The Green Room is large and there are many pieces of furniture to be uncovered.”
“I thought the Green Room was to be kept for her ladyship’s high-stepping friends from London,” the maid continued. “Not that we’ve seen many of those of late.”
“Lady Darby has not seen the need for much company of late,” Mrs. Scrannot said defensively.
“But there was a time when the house overflowed with them fancy dressin’ women and the free-handed men. Can’t help but wonder—”
“You are not paid to wonder about anything her ladyship does,” the housekeeper admonished.
“Aye, true that is. But one does get to thinkin’ about pay. I keep hearin’ rumours that the merchants at Malvern are highly unhappy with his lordship,” Mrs. Black continued to prattle.
“You have been here long enough to know to ignore such hearsay,” Mrs. Scrannot advised, torn between loyalty to the family and a desire to know what was being bandied about. “If we tarry, the young miss will arrive before we are finished.”
“Aye, and then her ladyship would have reason to dismiss us,” the maid remarked scornfully, and hastened her steps.
* * * *
The Honourable Mr. Patrick Darby, consigned to visit a friend in a rather desolate section of Cornwall, had welcomed the appearance of another friend, the Viscount Hillern. The pair of them had, on this eve, outlasted their host. Drink had not only rendered their host senseless but had also loosened young Darby’s tongue as he and Hillern enjoyed reminiscences of their more lascivious deeds of the past. Being deep in his cups, the viscount’s mind wandered. “This place is absolutely revolting.” Grabbing at the near-empty bottle of port, the sixth of the evening, he added, “I refuse to remain here beyond the morrow.”
“Lucky you are that you are free to go. You have only arrived the day just past,” Darby told him, “and I have been here an eternity.” His sallow complexion, reddened by drink, darkened. “There’s naught to do but eat and drink.” He waved a hand and dropped it to his pettishly plump waist, “Damn this place.”
Hillern raised his glass in answer and burst into raucous laughter. “Your lesson has been learned then? Discretion, my boy, discretion.”
“I’ll not take offence,” Darby said pompously then demanded. “Have you received a reply?”
“Reply? Oh, from the Aderly chap. No, but I see no problem with it. Aderly can be convinced to come whether his father approves or not.” The viscount drank deeply. “Do you really think your scheme will succeed?”
“My skill is not unknown to you, Hillern. Mother shall be convinced I have been utterly reformed if Aderly is as green and gullible as you say.”
“There is none greener. Won’t even go near the muslin set,” Hillern smirked.
“Then we shall have to give the lad our reckoning of the ‘grand tour’ when we arrive in London. The least I can do for anyone helping free me of the damnable place.” Darby threw his glass against the wall in disgust. “Send word to me as soon as you hear from him.
“My properly ‘contrite’ letters have been preparing mother for my return. Bringing Aderly with me should prove the proper balm. Once forgiven there is need only of one run of luck—”
“Or a willing heiress,” Hillern threw in, drink making him incautious with his friend.
A scowl covered Darby’s plump looks. It removed any hint of pleasantness from his features. “Mother needs little prodding there. I find it remarkable that she has not summoned me home to meet her latest ‘protégé.’ I am not unwilling,” he swaggered back in his chair, “provided there are funds worth the taking. In all, though, I prefer the die or cards. I feel my luck has changed,” he leaned forward. “Fortune is about to smile on me, Hillern. I can feel it.”
* * * *
“The smell of dust is in the air. In the morn when there is some light you shall see it all about,” Miss Bea groused as she unpacked Audacia’s few garments. “A household of this size and only two candles. Hhruummph.”
“Lady Darby is a rather odd woman,” Audacia murmured as she undressed. “At first I thought we might be told to leave. It seemed as if she was very unhappy about our coming. But,” she said on a tired sigh, “she was almost too welcoming after I gave her father’s letters.”
“As weary as you are you may have imagined she was cool towards you.”
Audacia shrugged, and then pulled her nightdress over her head.
Miss Bea yawned widely.
“Couldn’t I help you? You must be as exhausted as I.”
“That is no way for a young lady to speak. You must always act as if you expect to be waited upon. Demand it, in fact.”
“I shall never become accustomed to it, Miss Bea,” Audacia said tiredly.
“Be careful of how you address me. Miss Bea is fine for moments when we are alone but if anyone is about you must simply say ‘Strowne, do this.’ I’ll have none of these servants running to her ladyship with tales that you behave improperly.”
“But I care not for what any one of them thinks.”
“Then you must begin now. We are going to do this properly. I’ve my pride and no one is going to say I am not a suitable abigail. To bed with you. I want you rested and in the best of looks in the morn. The light of day will raise your spirits.”
Climbing into the broad feather bed, Audacia yawned. “You sound more a nanny than an abigail.”
“All the more reason for you to take care with your words and actions,” Miss Strowne admonished, coming to the bedside to straighten the bedcovers.
“You haven’t done this for years, Miss Bea,” Audacia said, tears suddenly welling in her eyes. “Thank you, for coming with me and—and everything.”
“‘Tis nothing, child,” the pseudo-abigail told her though her voice shook. “But you must see I am properly rewarded by making the best match of the season.” Miss Bea raised her head proudly.
“Your mother was a beauty—no less are you. The man you accept will have the kindest, truest wife in the kingdom.” She blew her nose noisily and gazed down at the young woman who was half smiling at her. “And the most mischievous, prank-filled miss ever to come his way,” she added with false anger before turning away.
Audacia could not constrain a gurgle of laughter as she turned onto her stomach. The one thing she was certain this trip did not hold in store for her was a husband.
Chapter 9
“Why, miss, you should still be abed,” Miss Bea scolded when she came from the small antechamber and found Audacia gazing out of the sun-streaked windows.
“It would probably be warmer there,” Audacia said turning from the windows. “But it must be after ten and my stomach has been protesting the lack of food since eight.”
“A lady’s stomach does nothing of the sort.”
“If ladies are permitted such a vulgar organ,” Audacia mimicked.
“Young lady.” The abigail straightened herself stiffly.
“Oh, I know, Miss Bea. But my stomach hasn’t learned of its gentility yet,” she said and burst into laughter.
The older woman tried her best to frown but the absurdity was too apparent. Feeling her cause lost for the moment, she took to new ground. “Why, look at those windows.”
The bright sunshine shadowed through streaked, begrimed panes.
“They have not been washed for a sennight of months,” she ejaculated. “And look—there is dust all about.”
“I do not believe her ladyship intended this room for us,” Audacia noted. “Something changed her mind. What could it have been?”
“Lady Darby must not be careful about the servants she employs. Why this room looks as if it has been neglected completely; as if the dustcovers have just been taken from it.”
“What of the lack of a fire? I was tempted to use those chairs by the fireplace for firewood,” Audacia quipped. “Never have I been so thoroughly chilled.”
“One must question the lack of ameniti
es,” Miss Bea began hesitantly. “I do hope Sir Aderly was not wrong in thinking the viscount still among the ton.”
“It would be a pleasure to learn they are not, for then we could return home. But if I do not find sustenance soon I shall be too weak to even stand.” Audacia drew her hand to her forehead, feigned light-headedness, and staggered theatrically.
“Miss, you had best watch out for the—” Before the abigail could complete her warning, the young woman caught her heel on a chair and stumbled against the wall.
Catching hold the wide, fringed cord nearby, she righted herself. “I had thought this a rather useless decoration,” she said giving it another tug.
Both women started in surprise as the door burst open and a worried looking maid bolted to the centre of the room and fell into a deep curtsy. “Yes, milady,” she huffed through hard-drawn breaths.
“What is the matter?” Audacia asked. “Why have you been running?” She looked to the door to see if the maid had been pursued.
“I came—-as—-quickly—as I could, milady,” the plump young woman panted.
“I am simply Miss Aderly,” Audacia told her kindly. “Have you been frightened?”
“Why, no . . . miss. It is just that . . . well . . . you did give the bell a frightful pull,” the maid explained hesitantly.
“The bell?” Audacia looked to Miss Bea, who nodded at the cord. “Oh, yes, the bell.” She turned back to the maid. “We were, that is, I was thinking I would like a light breakfast.”
“Her ladyship instructed me to ask that you join his lordship and herself whenever you arose. I will show you to the breakfast room if you wish.”
“That would be fine, but what of . . . Strowne?”
“I’ll return and take her below stairs, miss. The breakfast room is this way.”
Miss Bea walked with Audacia to the door. “Now remember a light breakfast,” she whispered and crossed her fingers behind her back as Audacia walked away with steps too lively for a lady.
“Miss Aderly, what a pleasant surprise,” Lord Darby greeted her entry into the breakfast room. He drew his tall, thin frame to a stiffly upright posture. “I had thought fatigue would delay your rising. But you are—my, yes,” the greying viscount surveyed her with his quizzing glass, “you are in the best of form.” Having managed to reach her side, he took her hand.
“Why, you are cold as ice,” he exclaimed. “Was the fire in your room allowed to burn low?”
“There was no fire, my lord,” Audacia answered, loosening her blue woollens shawl as she absorbed some of the warmth in the cosy room.
“No fire. Why who is responsible for this?” He turned to his wife. “Dismiss the wench who neglected her duty so badly,” the viscount blustered.
“Of course, my lord,” Lady Darby smiled innocently. “Be seated Miss Aderly. Audacia, is it not?” she twittered. “Such an unusual name, but then your father was always rather odd.
“But come,” she continued, heedless of the displeased glint in Audacia’s eyes. “You must be famished after the journey and all, but I forget. Such excitement takes the appetite, does it not? Some chocolate? Perhaps a biscuit?”
Taking her seat, Audacia looked at the meagre fare upon the table. She tried to still the rumblings of her stomach that arose at the thought of one of Miss Bea’s omelettes.
“My dear, we cannot tell you how pleasant it is to have you stay with us,” the viscount told her. “You are quite like your mother in looks. A true beauty she was.”
“Ahem,” interrupted Lady Darby with an annoyed frown at her husband. “Miss Aderly and I have much to discuss.” She looked at Audacia.
“Your father has asked that I see to all that is necessary for a successful season, and of course we know where to begin.” She preened, adjusting the ruffles at the neck of her high-waisted brocade gown. Given no compliment she hurried on. “There is a seamstress in Malvern who is quite good. We shall begin there for you cannot be seen in London in that,” she waved her hand languidly at Audacia’s out-of-fashion daydress, “gown.”
Condemnation fell heavy with her words, and Audacia bristled.
“I have ordered the coach for later in the afternoon. I had no idea your constitution was so, er, sound.”
“I shall not mind the wait,” Audacia broke in. “Would it be possible for me to walk about the grounds before we go?”
“Walk about the grounds? My dear, you surely do not mean to go outdoors?” Lord Darby asked, taken aback at the thought. “The gallery is—”
“I oft walk in the fresh air. I find it very beneficial,” she interrupted flashing a wide smile at the elderly gentleman.
“That is most unwise,” Lady Darby intoned. “Exercise should be taken in moderation only. You could catch a dreadful chill. The gallery on the third floor is much more suitable for walking this time of year.”
“Be assured that I am accustomed to the cold,” Audacia told her happily. “May I have your permission?”
Lady Darby’s attempt to conceal her displeasure failed, even though she gaily twittered. “Of course, dear girl, if you insist.”
“Thank you, my lady. I think I shall go out now,” Audacia said and finished her chocolate. “Would it be possible to have tea when I come in?”
“You have only to express your desires, my dear,” the viscount said, rising stiffly.
“There is no need. Please remain seated, my lord,” she told him.
“Trotter.” Lady Darby motioned the butler, who had been standing at the door since Audacia had entered, to come forward. “See that Miss Aderly is shown the gardens.”
The butler bowed formally at both Lord and Lady Darby, then led the way from the room. He did not stop until he stood before two huge doors at the end of one of the mansion’s wings.
“Must I use these doors, Mr. Trotter?” Audacia asked the impervious-looking butler. “Are there no other—smaller doors, perhaps?”
“There is an entrance to the gardens not far from the library but it is used by the servants, miss,” he answered stonily.
“Show me it, please. I am certain it shall be more suitable to my purpose.” And far easier to open by myself, she thought looking at the massive doors, wondering if she had the strength to open them alone.
“As you wish,” Trotter responded and they began a second trek back through the confusing corridors. When they had passed the breakfast room, Audacia, determined to learn her way about, took her bearings. A sudden turn brought them to the most unusual corridor she had ever seen. Both sides were lined by what appeared to be door after identical door.
“The fifth viscount Darby was responsible for this ornamentation,” Trotter announced proudly. “It is rather interesting. A very close examination will reveal which of the panels are true doors.”
Surely he is not going to expect me to do that? Audacia wondered in alarm.
“One enters the library through this.” Trotter touched one of the panels lightly and it swung open. “Or through this one.” Stepping four panels down the wall, he opened a second door. “But to enter the gardens, you must use this.” He strode across the corridor and pushed the moulding on one of the panels.
Audacia walked forward slowly. She shivered as she peered into the chilling darkness.
“A short tunnel, miss. The family does not use this exit but it is convenient for the servants.”
“I—I am certain it will suit. If you could direct me to my room—”
“Of course, miss,” he answered haughtily, thinking the young woman would now think twice before going outdoors.
After closing the door, he led the way back to the main corridor. A glance back would have shown him the young miss was far from deterred as she counted the number of “doors” between the real one and the end of the corridor.
* * * *
Snow covered much of the gardens, but a thaw was clearly beginning and the slush underfoot bespoke the coming arrival of spring. Audacia made a wide circle around the outer limits sever
al times before treading toward the centre. There small hedge and shrubbery had caught the snow and increased its depth. It was evident that none of the Darby household was interested in exercising in the open air, for only rabbit, squirrel, and bird tracks were visible across the white blanket.
Recognizing the form of a bench beneath the snow, Audacia brushed vigorously until an area large enough for her to sit on was cleared. She sat and sighed as she looked at the tall walls of the mansion rising on two sides. A heavy sadness came upon her along with a deep longing to see her own, small home.
Audacia gasped the next instant as a snowball landed squarely on her back with a resounding thud. She whirled about and a second caught her in the face. Her gloved hand cleared the white crystals from her eyes just in time for her to see a third snowy missile and duck it. Her assailant, a girl of about four and ten, bent to scoop more snow in hand and on straightening received a blast of snow from Audacia’s well-aimed throw.
The two eagerly exchanged blow for white blow until an angry, shrill voice interrupted the fun. “Helene Darby, stop that vulgar behaviour at once! And you, also, whoever you are. Come to me this instant.” The window on the second floor slammed shut but Lady Darby’s figure remained before it.
Slowly the two figures brushed snow from their pelisses and straightened their bonnets as they trudged towards the two large doors that Trotter had opened and where he awaited them. Their steps joined reluctantly midway to the doors.
“I could have beaten you,” Helene said hotly, her full face flushed.
“We will have to come out and try again.” Audacia laughed as she spoke. “I have not had such fun since Daniel was sent off to school.”
“Ohhhh,” the young girl shook her head angrily.
Pausing, Audacia saw the loneliness behind the anger in the wide brown eyes. “My name is Audacia Aderly,” she introduced herself. “I hope we can be friends during my stay.”
“Friends?” Helene sneered, momentarily taking on her mothers’ looks. “Why should I want to be friends with the daughter of a mere baronet? Here I am to suffer a scold from Mother and you have not the grace to fly into the boughs,” she said disgustedly.