An Improper Companion

by April Kihlstrom

  I entered. As I did so Leslie rose to his feet with an exclamation, “Good God! Your habit!”

  I looked down in surprise. “Oh dear, it’s ruined, isn’t it? The underskirt also, I fear. I’m sorry, Leslie, I forgot to be careful.”

  He came and firmly propelled me to a chair and sat me down. “Have you eaten?” he demanded.

  I shook my head. “Not since breakfast.”

  With a muttered curse, he rang for a servant, and when she came ordered a cold tray and a pot of tea for me. Leslie paced back and forth, refusing to let me speak until I had eaten. When the tray had at last been carried away, I began to chatter. I told him how I had come to tear my shift and some of Kate’s stories. And I told him of Tom’s worry and his kiss. Then I paused. “I agreed we would stand for the child, Leslie. I suppose I should have asked you first, but they were so shy about it...”

  A corner of his mouth twitched, but his face remained impassive as he said, “Very well. Go on.”

  There wasn’t much else to tell. Until I came to the lie I had told the maid. I shrank into the chair, afraid of Leslie’s anger. But he looked more weary than angry. “Yes,” he said, “I suppose that will keep the servants from wondering why there are no children.”

  He turned around and seemed to be attending to certain papers on his desk. Impulsively I rose and went over to him. Placing a hand on his arm, I said, “I’m sorry, Leslie.”

  He looked down at me, an expression in his eyes I could not read. He put a hand on my head and said quietly, “Go up to bed, Heather. You’ve had a busy day.”

  Confused, I withdrew to my chamber. Immediately, Ellen began to cluck over me and the ruined habit. I let her chatter. The tale of my action had indeed passed throughout the servants’ hall, and my behaviour was much remarked upon. Ellen, at least, seemed to approve. After a soothing bath, I dismissed her and sought my bed. Tired, sleep came quickly to me that night.

  Chapter 9

  Mary’s first words to me the next morning were, “My dear! How highly unsuitable!”

  This was at breakfast. For the first time we all met at the morning table. I answered shortly, “She had need of me. That was all that was important.”

  “But you could have sent a servant,” she protested.

  I shook my head. “The very fact that I was Lady Kinwell helped. Also, I did not wish to leave her alone and I felt I had the necessary knowledge to cope if the child arrived before the midwife.”

  “How could you?” she asked in a shocked voice. “Surely such things are not taught at Mrs. Gilwen’s school?”

  I sighed. “No, they are not. Medical texts exist, however.” It was a small lie, but I was afraid that if Mary knew who had taught me she might cause the poor woman’s dismissal. Mary confined herself to shaking her head at me. Philip was interested. “Aunt Heather, weren’t you squeamish? I mean, it isn’t a pleasant process, is it?”

  “Philip!” Mary’s shocked voice rang out.

  “May I suggest,” Leslie interrupted, “that this is not a suitable topic for the table.”

  His words silenced us until I turned to Mary. “The other day, ma’am, you suggested a trip into town. Are you still willing?”

  She smiled and unbent perceptibly. “Of course, my dear. Have you many things to buy?”

  “A few,” I admitted ruefully. “Is there a decent dressmaker in the place? I’ve need of a new habit.”

  “A tolerable woman,” Mary replied.

  “Why do you need a new habit?” Philip was curious. “Thought your blue one all the crack.”

  I blushed. “I fear I ruined it yesterday.”

  After breakfast, Leslie called me into the library. From the desk, he produced a small leather pouch of coins. “You will, naturally,” he said, “put such things as your new habit on account. You may need, however, cash for tea or small purchases. Or”—he hesitated—“for gifts.”

  I took the pouch, feeling rather surprised and I stammered, “Th-this is most kind of you, Leslie.”

  He slammed shut the drawer of his desk and said shortly, “It is nothing of the sort. You were promised a settlement and you shall have it. If you recall, I assured you that you would not lack for spending money.”

  Dismayed by his tone, I said, “Very well. Then I shall simply say thank you.”

  He was silent and I hesitated, uncertain if I should stay or leave. Then he spoke with a touch of bitterness, in his voice. “Congratulations, Heather. The servants have accepted your tale. This morning my valet, Peter, offered me his sympathy for your condition.”

  I flushed. “Leslie, I am sorry. But I felt it better they should have no cause to wonder when no children appeared.” I bit my lip. “And after all, I could have said you were the one unable to have children.”

  “And if later there should be children?” he demanded.

  I grew white angry under his gaze. “I did not tell her conception was impossible, merely difficult. But you need not worry, sir, that I shall present you with”—I hesitated over the word—“a side-slip. Whatever your activities, I do not intend to pursue any affairs!”

  We glared at each other across the desk. A knock at the library door recalled us to ourselves.

  “Come in!” Leslie called as I quickly sat down and stared at the floor.

  It was a footman. “Young Mr. Bartlet, sir, asks to speak with you, sir.”

  “Send him up.”

  “Begging your pardon, sir. I thought that would be your answer and I took the liberty of bringing him with me.”

  “Very well. Show him in.”

  Tom was bashful this morning. “Sir Leslie. Lady Kinwell. I’ve come te thank ye both fer what ye did fer me wife yesterday.”

  “Why, you are quite welcome,” I said frankly. Then asked merrily, “And how is the baby? And the mother?”

  He flushed happily. “Oh, famous, ma’m. Jenny’s feelin’ herself agin, and the babe, well, he’s got a powerful strong set o’ lungs!”

  We all laughed. “When is the christening to be?” Leslie asked with a smile.

  “Sunday, a week hence,” Tom told us.

  “And the child’s name?” I queried.

  Tom flushed again. “Ken Leslie Bartlet. We’d a named it Heather if it’d a been a girl. Now I won’t be wasting any more of yer time, Sir Leslie. I just came te say thank ye and tell ye the day of the christening.”

  “Will you have something to eat before you go?” Leslie asked. “Mrs. Morgan could...”

  He laughed. “Mrs. Morgan has already fed me this morning.”

  We laughed with him again and Tom left, escorted by the footman. When they were gone, I turned to Leslie. “Good day. No doubt Mary awaits me.”

  Mary was indeed waiting. I paused only long enough to fetch a reticule, gloves, and my hat and to speak to Mrs. Morgan hastily. “Sir Leslie expects another guest this week and does not know the day,” I told her.

  “Which chamber shall I prepare?” she asked.

  “I am not sure,” I replied frankly. “The guest is the Earl of Pellen. Best give him the most comfortable one.”

  “Very well, my lady.”

  I was glad I had prepared the week’s menu in advance and had no need to stop for it that day. Mary was growing impatient. “I’m sorry,” I told her when at last we were in the carriage. “I should have warned you had I known Leslie wished to speak with me.”

  “Was he angry with you?” she asked sympathetically.

  “I fear so,” I admitted and sighed. Then, needing to confide in someone, I said, “I started a silly rumour among the servants. I told one of the kitchen maids yesterday evening that I could not have children. Goosish of me, no doubt, but I could not bear the thought of speculation belowstairs as to when an heir might arrive.”

  To my surprise, Mary did not reprove me but said she thought the idea a sensible one. I still did not know my belle-soeur very well. We came to a halt in the courtyard of the inn. Having compared our lists of errands, we determined to visit t
he dressmaker first to order my new riding habit.

  It was to be expected that we would be stared at, the villagers being curious about the new Lady Kinwell. We were greeted with deference at the dressmaker’s shop, and it was clear she was both surprised and pleased to receive our patronage. After some discussion, I chose a fabric and style much like that of the ruined habit. Miss Markam promised delivery within the week. At the same time, Mary ordered a summer dress and I had the first indication of how long she meant to stay. For the dress could not be ready in less than seven days, and she said they might have a fortnight if need be.

  As we walked past the other small shops many of the women paused to greet Mary by name and I was introduced. Even allowing for natural curiosity, I was puzzled by the intentness of many of the stares I received. I could not know that Kate had already spread the tale of my behaviour of the day before. In innocence I agreed with those who asked if I found the country a quiet place.

  Laden with bundles, sometime later, we returned to the inn and placed them in the carriage. We had already decided to have nuncheon before returning to the castle. I was frankly elated with my freedom, the new experience of having sufficient funds for all I wished to purchase, and the deference shown me as Lady Kinwell. I should be a liar if I did not admit there were compensations to my new existence. The innkeeper hastened to serve us personally and seat us in a private parlor. We continued to discuss our purchases and the style of boots and shoes I had ordered, this being one article Leslie had been reluctant to choose for me. Indeed, at the moment, I had but one pair of each which must serve on all occasions. We were in complete accord concerning the shawl and lace cap Mary had purchased. I reflected that she, like her brother, possessed excellent taste. Mary confided that often she preferred to shop in such small villages since frequently, if one were careful, one could find very smart articles and the prices were not so shockingly dear as in London. Not that William was clutch-fisted. Quite the contrary. Still, a pound saved was a pound saved and there were all manner of other uses to which it could be put.

  Feeling very companionable, Mary and I returned to the courtyard where the coachman waited. As he handed us into the carriage an impressive coach and four pulled up. A moment later, a youngish-looking man of about thirty-five years emerged. He was neatly dressed and carried himself with an air of importance. Beside me, Mary exclaimed, “Why, it seems to be Lord Pellen. Whom can he be coming to visit?”

  I was amused. “Us. Or so Leslie has informed me. Do you know him?”

  “Oh, dear me, no. But he is everywhere received,” she replied. “Of the highest ton and in politics, I believe, though rumour has it the family funds are a trifle flat.”

  “Flat?” I said incredulously. “With that coach and four?”

  “Well, in a relative way,” she temporised.

  Confused, I gave the order to drive home. Confusion passed to anxiety as I wondered if Mrs. Morgan had prepared a room for the earl. I wished I had remembered to warn her yesterday, for I feared we should see him at the castle before nightfall. But the matter was of little concern to Mary and she began to discuss the gifts I had bought for Jenny Bartlet’s new son. Soon I was deep in a discussion of the relative merits of various sorts of rattles.

  The sight of the castle reminded me of my responsibilities. Leaving the servants to deal with the packages, I apologised to Mary, then went in search of Mrs. Morgan. After a few questions I ascertained that a chamber was aired and ready with dry sheets and that it would be no trouble to lay aside some of the best wine for dinner. Satisfied, I decided to seek out Leslie and warn him our guest might arrive at any moment. He was, as I expected, in the library. As was his habit, he did not look up as I entered, and I was halfway to his desk before he realised I was not a servant. “Ah, Heather. Did you enjoy your visit to the village?” he asked.

  I untied my bonnet and drew off my gloves. “Very much,” I admitted.

  As I sat down in a wing chair he came to sit beside me. “And what did you buy?”

  “Well, I ordered the habit, of course—’twill be ready within the week—shoes, and oh, the dearest boots...”

  On I chattered happily, pausing now and again to ask if such and such a price had been reasonable.

  Each time he gravely assured me it was. And he laughed when I described my dilemma in choosing a gift for the baby. When I had finished and sat staring at him, feeling a bit breathless, Leslie reached out and gently flicked my cheek. “You look quite pleased with yourself,” he teased. “And happier than I have ever seen you. I must send you shopping more often.”

  “Oh, no,” I protested earnestly, “that would be terribly foolish. I should spend all your money...”

  Abruptly I realised he was roasting me and blushing, I fell silent. “Did you do anything besides shop?” he asked gently.

  Eagerly I told him about the splendid nuncheon at the inn. And the innkeeper’s deferential manner that had made me feel so strange. “Oh, I must tell you,” I said after, “your guest will no doubt be arriving today. Someone stopped at the inn with a travelling coach and Mary said it was Lord Pellen. She seemed surprised to learn he would be visiting at the castle, though she said she didn’t know him. I’ve already spoken with Mrs. Morgan. A chamber has been prepared and his comfort shall be seen to. I daresay even the groom has been warned he shall have extra horses to attend to.”

  Leslie nodded absently, his thoughts clearly on other matters. He seemed disturbed almost. I wondered if he truly welcomed the earl’s visit and whether the reason for it were unpleasant. Some of this must have shown on my face, for abruptly Leslie asked if anything had gone wrong. “N-no,” I said, blushing, “it simply seemed that you were, well, concerned.” He smiled, but I sensed weariness behind the smile. “You needn’t bother your head about it. His lordship is arriving earlier than I expected, and I haven’t the least idea how I shall entertain him. That’s all.”

  I wavered, uncertain if Leslie were shamming it. He spoke again, more gently. “Go along now and change, Heather. It’s almost teatime, you know.”

  “Very well,” I said, aware there were things which required my attention, “I shall see you shortly.”

  Ellen was waiting for me. Somehow she always seemed to know when I would need her. My packages were on the table, but resolutely I decided to ignore them for the time.

  Suddenly I realised Ellen was regarding me oddly. “Is something wrong?” I asked her.

  Hastily she set about helping me change. “Oh, no, my lady. Only ... well, that Mr. Bartlet this morning, told everything. I mean, we knew you had stayed with Mrs. Bartlet, and I could see from your habit you had helped deliver the child ... but to tidy the cottage! And standing for the child ... and ... and all ...”

  I turned to face her. “Oh, dear, Ellen. Have I shocked the servants terribly? Have I sunk myself beneath reproach? But what else could I have done? She needed me.”

  Ellen was shocked at my dismay. “Oh, no, my lady! That isn’t what I meant. Everyone is saying how wonderful it was ... and what a proper mistress for the castle you be. Proper sympathetic they are, too, at your position, and saying Sir Leslie had best treat you with respect.”

  At the image of Leslie’s servants taking up the cudgel in my defense, I laughed. “So I am accepted then?” I asked.

  “I should say so!” Ellen answered.

  I sighed. “Lady Mary believes I acted improperly.”

  “Don’t you be listening to her!” Ellen said firmly. “You’ve more sense than she does. ’Tis odd, my lady, but though Lady Mary is respected in the castle, I think she is not liked.”

  I was puzzled. Why should the servants dislike Mary? True, she was a dominating woman, but good-natured enough. I hoped she would not realise how the servants felt (or that Ellen was mistaken), for it would distress the poor soul.

  Ellen’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “They say in the kitchens we’re to have another visitor, my lady.”

  “Yes. The Earl of Pellen,
” I said, rolling the title off my tongue. “He is expected today.”

  “Shall I lay out a special gown for dinner?”

  “Yes, though I cannot be sure he will arrive by then.”

  “Best to be prepared,” Ellen admonished.

  Downstairs, I discovered that the earl was a considerate man. Lord Pellen had sent a messenger from the inn to inform us of the hour of his arrival. The time had clearly been chosen to cause the minimum of inconvenience and I found myself looking forward to making the acquaintance of a man who would think of such things. Leslie had already been apprised of the note and given the necessary orders, the footman respectfully informed me. I thanked him and proceeded to join the others.

  Everyone had gathered for tea. I was somewhat nervous since, aside from rare occasions at Mrs. Gilwen’s school, I had never poured for others. Yet I was glad of the practice now, for I knew it could not be long before I should need to serve as hostess often. Mary smiled at me reassuringly and Philip roasted us about our shopping expedition. Rather than setting up my back, his boyish banter made me feel comfortably at ease. Almost he could have been the brother I had never had but always imagined. Leslie alone was quiet, often regarding me with an odd look in his eyes. I wondered whether this were due to the impending arrival of Lord Pellen or my behaviour of the day before. Annoyed by Leslie’s reticence, I turned my full attention to Philip. He seemed flattered. So easily had I forgotten my resolution! Mary’s voice, however, soon recalled to us who and where we were.

  Tea eventually over, Philip suggested that he and I take a turn in the garden. I refused, preferring to work at my needle and fearing his lordship might arrive early. I would also have nervously sought out Mrs. Morgan save that Leslie assured me that all was in a state of readiness. I should, of course, have realised that Lord Pellen would be punctual, arriving neither early nor late. The footman informed us of the approaching carriage, and Leslie and I waited on the steps to greet our guest.