A Change of Fortune

by Sandra Heath

  Stella stirred in the bed, her eyes slowly opening. “Nadia? Oh, Nadia, I’m so glad you’ve come to see me again.”

  With a false smile, Nadia went to her. “Ah, Stella, my dear.” She paused then, looking down with apparent concern. “My poor darling, how pale and tired you look. I was hoping to find you much improved today. Has something happened?”

  Stella bit her lip and looked away. “Yes.”

  “Would you like to tell me about it?”

  The girl hesitated, but then shook her head. “No, I don’t want to talk about it to anyone. You don’t mind, do you?” she added anxiously, afraid she might offend her new friend.

  Nadia gave a gentle, understanding smile, sitting on the side of the bed and taking Stella’s hand. “No, of course I don’t mind. Everyone has something they would rather forget, even I do, so we will talk of something else, something cheerful. Have you heard what is to happen at the frost fair tonight? They’re going to roast a whole sheep over charcoal! Just imagine, one could sample fresh roast mutton, and then try brandy balls and gingerbread, and all the while out at night in the snow! What excitement there will be, with all the noise and music, and all the people enjoying themselves.”

  “Yes.” Stella’s reply was barely audible.

  “You aren’t interested?”

  “Yes, I am, but….” Stella sighed.

  Nadia leaned forward a little. “Actually, it was because of the fair that I came to see you. I wondered if you would like to see it.”

  “I’m not allowed to.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t.”

  Stella stared at her. “What do you mean?”

  “You can come to the fair with me tonight, provided you are well enough, of course, and provided that you can slip in and out of here without anyone knowing.”

  Stella’s eyes shone. “Of course I’m well enough, I’m just feeling unhappy, that’s all.” But then her joy died away. “I couldn’t do anything in secret, though. Leonie would know I’d gone and she’d make a fuss.”

  “Leonie won’t be here tonight.”

  “She won’t? Why? Where will she be?”

  “She’s meeting her lover. You do know she has a lover, don’t you?”

  Stella was thunderstruck. “No,” she whispered, “no, I didn’t.”

  “Oh.” Nadia was all surprise. “I thought everyone knew.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Ah, that is something of a mystery, for I don’t think he wishes his identity to become known. Still, it doesn’t matter, the thing is that she’s going to meet him tonight and she’ll be gone for several hours. So you see, you will be able to creep in and out without anyone here realizing. What do you say? Would you like to do it?”

  Stella was still shocked at what she’d been told about Leonie, but now she quickly pushed it to the back of her mind. “Yes! Oh, yes, I’d love to come with you.”

  “Then you shall.”

  With a glad cry, Stella sat up to fling her arms around Nadia’s neck, hugging her tightly. “You’re my friend!” she cried. “My only true friend!”

  Unseen by the girl, Nadia smiled. It was a hard, calculating smile, devoid of kindness.

  Stella looked at her then. “How will we go? What do you want me to do?”

  Oh, this was almost too easy. “I want you to wait until Leonie goes out to keep her assignation, then you must leave straightaway, going out the back way to South Audley Street. I will be waiting there in a carriage. Oh, there’s just one thing….”

  “Yes?”

  “I might not be able to get there in time, so two of my friends, a lady and a gentleman, might be in the carriage instead, but they will be watching out for you, so you won’t get into the wrong carriage by mistake.” Nadia gave a light laugh. “That wouldn’t do, would it?” She was a little concerned then. “You won’t mind going with my friends if I can’t be there, will you?”

  “No, of course not, not if they’re your friends.”

  “There is something you must promise me, Stella.”

  “Anything.”

  “You mustn’t ever tell anyone what we’ve done, it must be our secret. Your uncle would be very angry indeed with me if he knew I’d helped you like this.”

  “I won’t breathe a word to anyone.”

  “Especially not Leonie, for she would go straight to him, you know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes. I promise not to say anything. Cross my heart.”

  “Good. It’s settled, then. Be ready at about nine, for that is when Leonie is meeting her lover.”

  It didn’t occur to Stella to ask how Nadia knew so much about Leonie’s private arrangements; the girl was too excited at the prospect of seeing the fair after all. She was also too triumphant at the thought of deliberately flouting Guy’s wishes, even if he would never know she’d done it.

  * * *

  Leonie and Katy had taken their charges to watch the skating on the Serpentine. Skating was now a very fashionable pastime indeed, and a number of enterprising boys, who saw the chance to make a profit, had worked hard to clear the ice of snow. A large number of carriages had consequently arrived, and there were many skaters, their laughter and the slither of their wooden skates echoing all around.

  The girls were enjoying the scene, and so was Katy, but Leonie’s mind was on something else. She felt very unhappy about not telling Guy about Stella’s upset that morning. Katy suddenly touched her arm. “Look, Miss Leonie, isn’t that Sir Guy riding over there?”

  Leonie looked in the direction the maid was pointing, and sure enough, it was Guy, riding a large, rather capricious gray horse. Her heart sank then, for he had noticed her and was turning the horse in her direction. She didn’t want to face him now, not when she felt so very guilty, but there was nothing she could do about it, for he quite obviously intended to speak to her.

  He reined in a few yards away from her, effortlessly controlling the horse, which was very willful and fresh. He wore a dark green riding coat with flat brass buttons, and close-fitting buckskin breeches. His dark hair had curled in the exhilaration of riding in the extreme cold, and he had pushed his hat rakishly back from his forehead. He dismounted and smiled at her. It was a smile which cut through her like a knife. “Good afternoon, Miss Conyngham.”

  “Good afternoon, Sir Guy.”

  “I’m so glad I noticed you, for it gives me an opportunity to ask how Stella is without presenting myself unannounced at the seminary. Before I say anything else, perhaps I should tell you that I know all about Imogen’s visit and the fact that Stella had another tantrum.”

  Tantrum? Was that how Imogen had chosen to describe it? Leonie wondered how much he really knew, and how far he was prepared to let his future wife go. She remembered what Stella had said that morning. I don’t want him to come here, I don’t ever want to see him again. He doesn’t love me at all. I hate him. Those weren’t words of tantrum, they were words of heartbreak and desolation. What had Imogen told the girl, and had she said it with this man’s full knowledge? Even as this thought entered her head, she felt ashamed, for when she looked into his concerned eyes, she knew that he would never have been party to anything so cruel.

  He smiled at her silence. “I appear to have somehow struck you dumb, Miss Conyngham.”

  She colored, as she so easily seemed to whenever in his presence. “I…I was wondering what to say. You see, Stella was…well, very upset after the visit.”

  “That was why I deemed it wiser to stay away for the time being, since my niece will not believe good of me no matter what I do. If I see her now, I know perfectly well that she will accuse me of doing it with only Imogen’s welfare in mind.”

  “She will always think that while she remains at the seminary,” she replied before she could help herself. But it was true, and she could see so well why Stella felt as she did. He did do things because of Imogen; that was why his unfortunate niece had been sent away in the first place.

  He glanced away, his r
iding crop tapping a little irritably against his boot. “Don’t you think I’m fully aware of that fact, Miss Conyngham?”

  She’d offended him! “Forgive me, Sir Guy,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to speak out of turn.”

  He looked at her again, smiling. “You didn’t, I’m merely smarting because I know you’re right, and I know that I’ve handled this whole business very badly from the outset.” He took her hand and kissed it gently. “It is I who should be begging your forgiveness, Miss Conyngham, for I seem to be continually imposing my problems upon you.”

  She wore gloves, but it was still as if she could feel the warmth of his lips upon her skin. He was so very close to her, and she longed to feel those lips upon her own, longed to feel his arms tight about her, crushing her against his body….

  Without warning she felt perilously close to outright confession of her love. That way lay complete folly. With a slight gasp, she quickly withdrew her hand. Please don’t let him be able to read her thoughts. Please.

  Their eyes met, and she knew that again he was as aware as she of the atmosphere which had so instantly enveloped them both. He moved perceptibly away. “Having said all that,” he murmured a little self-consciously, “I thought I would leave it up to you to suggest when it might be suitable for me next to call upon my niece. Whenever you think it wise….” His voice trailed away, and he looked at her again.

  She avoided meeting his eyes. “I…. Twill inform you immediately, Sir Guy. I—”

  “Yes?”

  “I haven’t been able to speak to her yet, as I promised. The moment simply hasn’t been right.”

  “And Imogen’s intervention hasn’t helped, has it?”

  She raised her eyes to his. “No.”

  He smiled then. “You are in complete agreement with Stella about my marriage, aren’t you?”

  She colored again. “I wouldn’t presume to have an opinion, sir.”

  “What you really mean is that you’re far too tactful to admit it.”

  “I want you to be happy, Sir Guy.”

  He searched her face for a long moment. “I know that you do,” he said quietly. Then he looked quickly away. “I…er, I dine with Harry Fitzjohn tonight.”

  “I pray God that some good will come of it.”

  “I sincerely hope that it will,” he said, meeting her eyes again, “for to be sure, Richard Conyngham must indeed have been the upright man of honor you say he was, for a lesser man could never have had a daughter as totally admirable as you.”

  “I’m not admirable,” she whispered. “Indeed, I’m far from it.” It isn’t admirable to be filled with desire for a man who is engaged to another….

  “I disagree,” he replied, his voice still very soft, “and before I’m further bewitched by those great dark eyes of yours, I think it best if I left. Au revoir, Leonie.” He turned and quickly remounted, urging his horse away across the snow.

  She was immune to everything but the remembered sound of his voice, and it was a moment or two before she realized that he had used only her first name when he had said good-bye.

  Chapter 28

  The school day was over and darkness had fallen when Leonie was summoned to the vestibule by a rather anxious Joseph, who was still upset about mistakenly allowing Imogen to see Stella, and who was consequently not prepared to take any chances when he was even vaguely doubtful about something. The something in this particular instance was a rather disreputable-looking delivery boy who had very reluctantly obeyed when bade to wait inside. He stood in the vestibule, his sharp eyes darting all around, his tongue passing nervously over his lower lip. In his hand was the solitary rose he was delivering.

  Joseph hurried to speak to Leonie before she went to the boy. “Miz Leonie, I would have just taken the rose, but there’s things that don’t seem quite right.”

  “What things?”

  “To begin with, there’s only one rose, not a basket, not twelve baskets, just a single flower. And since you’ve taught me to read, I know that the note with it is in different writing, and the man who wrote it has signed his full name this time, Rupert, not just R. Maybe I’m being too cautious, but I thought I’d speak up. Did I do right, Miz Leonie?”

  She smiled. “Yes, of course you did, Joseph.” She walked on toward the boy then, and her tone was guarded when she spoke to him. “I understand you have a rose for me.”

  He whirled about, not having heard her approach. “Miss Conyngham?”

  “I am.”

  He thrust the rose into her hand and then pressed a rather dirty card upon her as well. “I’m to see you get these.”

  She glanced quickly at the note. Joseph was right, it was in an entirely different hand, and Rupert had indeed departed from his usual practice and had signed his full Christian name. Indeed, the whole tone of the note was different. “Leonie. If you have any kindness in your heart at all, you will take pity on me and at least see me once more. Grant me this one small wish, for I cannot go on this way. I will be outside the seminary in my carriage at nine o’clock tonight. Please speak to me. Rupert.”

  She looked suspiciously at the boy, who was anxious to get away. “Why is the writing different this time?”

  His tongue again passed over his lower lips, and he only very reluctantly met her gaze. “Well, it’s like this. The first one got spoiled and wet, and the gaffer had to write it out again. That’s all.”

  There was nothing more she could say. She gave him a coin and watched as he almost ran from the building. Then she glanced again at the note. Certainly the spoiling of the original would explain the writing, but she still felt oddly uneasy about the change of signature. She breathed the fragrance of the rose. How beautiful it was, and how subdued the perfume of a single bloom after the lavishness of all those baskets. She couldn’t help thinking of how Rupert had been when he had kissed her and begged her to believe in his love. A single rose was so much more expressive and believable than an extravagant, gaudy multitude….

  Shortly afterward, she went up to see Stella again, and she did so wondering what her reception would be this time, for after her walk earlier she had been greeted with decided coolness. Nadia Benckendorff had had something to do with the change in Stella, but what she had said or done was a mystery, for Stella refused to talk about it.

  Entering the bedroom, Leonie took the rose to place it with all the others, then turned to look at the girl, only to find her cold, rather reproachful eyes already upon her. Leonie smiled. “How are you feeling now?”

  “Much better. Thank you.”

  The tone was as distant as before. “Have I said or done anything to offend you, Stella?”

  “No.”

  “There must be something—”

  “There’s nothing at all, Miss Conyngham.”

  Leonie stared at her. Miss Conyngham? She’d been “Leonie” practically from the beginning, and yet now, without warning or reason, she was being rejected and their relationship placed on a much more formal footing. Was she no longer to be regarded as a friend? Was there only room for Nadia Benckendorff?

  “Stella, why are you doing this? You’re obviously angry with me about something, but how can I put it right if you won’t tell me what I’ve done?”

  “I’m not angry with you at all.” Stella picked up a book and opened it, bringing the conversation to an end.

  Leonie went out, pausing in the passageway. Something was going on, her every sense warned her of it, but what could it possibly be? What had Nadia Benckendorff put into the girl’s trusting head?

  * * *

  A little later that evening, Imogen sat alone in the great drawing room of Longhurst House, and she was both bored and angry. She had wanted Guy to escort her to the theater, but he had had a prior dinner engagement with Harry Fitzjohn and had declined to break it, even though she had pleaded with him. That had rankled, and things had rankled still more when she realized that she would have to spend the evening entirely alone. Edward was out on so
me undisclosed deviousness connected with his secret wager with Rupert, there were no forgotten invitations which she could use at the last moment, and now her footman had returned from Harley Street to tell her that Nadia was not at home and would not, therefore, be able to dine with her. It really was too bad! She vented her frustration upon the unfortunate cream muslin gown she was embroidering, jabbing the needle in and out as if it had mortally offended her.

  The double doors opened and a footman came in. “Miss Benckendorff has called, my lady.”

  She looked up in surprise. “Show her in immediately.”

  “My lady.”

  A moment later Nadia swept in, her white silk gown whispering and her long feather boa dragging over the polished floor behind her. Her golden hair was swept up beneath a gold brocade turban, and Dorothea’s rubies glittered at her throat. “Imogen, darling,” she cried. “I’m so glad to find you at home. I was afraid you would be out with Guy.”

  “I would have been had he not decided to place Harry Fitzjohn first.” Imogen was disgruntled to see how beautiful Nadia was again.

  “Harry Fitzjohn?”

  “They’re dining together.”

  “Oh.” Nadia’s smile faded a little. “At Guy’s house?”

  “No, at Harry’s club, wherever that is. I was too annoyed with Guy to inquire. Oh, do sit down, Nadia, you make me feel quite uneasy standing there like that. Besides, you’re in the light and I can’t see what I’m doing.”

  Nadia obeyed, but as she settled back and automatically arranged her skirts, her mind was racing. Guy wasn’t at home tonight? Would that make any difference to the plan? What if he hadn’t returned by the time Edward’s message arrived summoning him to the seminary?