There was not, as far as the Dowager could see, a single laudatory feature about the girl in front of her. Brown hair, brown eyes, and much too brown skin. Adding to that a short stature (which as the Duchess was rather short herself she could not truly find fault with) and when one thought of the fair, voluptuous beauties that one normally associated with St. James, she could only find it very perplexing, indeed! Her eyes, when one took time to look, were rather fine, but as for expression, the Duchess could find nothing but tiredness and a certain wary bewilderment, as though the miss could not credit that she were here in this room being beneath the scrutiny of the Dowager Duchess of St. James. And did not in particular care for it either.
St. James stepped forward and said in a diverted voice, “Grandmother, may I be allowed to introduce Miss Sara Elizabeth Murdock, daughter of Squire Edward Murdock of Chestershire, my betrothed, if I can, in fact, induce her to accept my proposal.”
The Dowager let all the air out of her chest in a single shocked exhaling and she watched in quiet amazement as the young miss before her whirled on her grandson, her tiredness and perplexity leaving her in a sudden call to arms, and glared at him.
“That has not in the least been settled, milord!” Miss Murdock told St. James, and as he only chuckled to himself, she turned to his grandmother, her worn, threadbare, poverty revealing skirts twirling with her. “I am sorry, milady, and I should not carry you such tales, but he has been drinking quite lamentably, and such being, anything he says to you this night must be disregarded out of hand!”
The Duchess, recovering from her shock, managed to smile, for with the sudden animation in Miss Murdock's face, much of her prior assessment of her being plain took a sudden reversal. She would never be a beauty, but there was something. . . “Please do not upset yourself, Miss Murdock, for I can see that you are all but done in. It is just like my grandson to say something shocking when one is most incapable of dealing with it.”
“As I have come to understand, ma'am,” Miss Murdock returned, still quite angry, the duchess could see. “And as you know him much better than I would even want to, then I am sure that I can count on you to see that he is merely being ridiculous.”
The Dowager could not answer that, for as shocked as she was, she had never known St. James to be less than serious when making one of his outrageous statements. So instead of agreeing with or disabusing Miss Murdock of her idea that St. James was being ridiculous, she merely bade Miss Murdock to have a seat, and the Temptons must make themselves comfortable also of course, and she directed Ashton to please bring in tea and cakes, as the poor child and her escorts must be famished.
“Thank you, milady,” Miss Murdock said as she settled herself and heard these requests made. “For I fear I am tired and hungry and very out of sorts. And it is not at all the way I would have wished to be upon making your acquaintance, so I do apologize.”
“No apology needed, my dear, for I can see that my grandson has had you dragged around in quite a deplorable fashion, and I daresay I would be much out of sorts if he were to do the same to me.”
“You are very kind, ma'am,” Miss Murdock replied with a tired smile that still did much to light up her plain face.
“Kind is not normally the assessment that is placed upon me, Miss Murdock, so please do not bandy it about to any degree, for it shall quite ruin the reign of terror I have managed to sway over for the past fifty years.”
To which Miss Murdock bowed her head and replied, “Then of course I shall not interfere with that perception after you have tried for so many years to maintain it.”
The duchess smiled at this solemn answer, but when she spoke again her voice was a bark, causing the two Tempton brothers to jump in their chairs. “And what call have you two gentlemen to be aiding and abetting my grandson and fagging this poor child half to death with his antics?”
To which Bertie replied, fumbling, “Why look at the time, Ryan! Had no idea it was so late. Dowager, St. James, Miss Murdock,” he bowed in each direction after bouncing from his seat. “Must really beg pardon but fear we must be going now.”
“It is as well!” the Duchess cried. “For I am too tired to upbraid you properly now. And St. James, you may leave now also, and the next time I see you, you had better not be looking as hellish as you do this night. You may call upon Miss Murdock tomorrow, but not until the evening, mind you, for I will not have you here disturbing her rest after exhausting her all of today.”
And with these regal orders, the Temptons hastened to take their leave, only Ryan pausing long enough to say to Lizzie, “Miss Murdock, it has been a pleasure, and if I can be of any further assistance, you know you need only call upon me!”
And as Miss Murdock began to acknowledge this statement, feeling very moved at his concern, the duchess overrode her, saying, “Yes, yes, Mister Tempton, that is all very well and good but you may get out now.”
St. James took his grandmother's hand in his own, kissed the back of it. “I see you have everything well in hand, grandmother, so I shall take my leave.” He turned to Miss Murdock who sat with her face downturned on the settee, her hands held clutched together in her lap and waited for her to raise her eyes to look at him, her expression still very baleful, before saying in a voice that showed he was enjoying himself very much, “Until tomorrow, Miss Murdock.”
She gave a sudden, exasperated sigh. “Yes, milord. As you say, milord.” But her tone was anything but compliant.
The Duchess surprised herself by giving a merry chuckle.
Chapter Nine
Tuesday Morning
Ashton came back in the salon door with a tray of hot tea and cakes, and if he was surprised that the number of people he had been sent to serve had dwindled with alarming quickness, he made no show of it. He set the tray down within easy reach of the Duchess, asked if he could be of any further service, to which the Dowager only replied to make sure he saw about the lady's maid. He assured her he already had some promising leads on that endeavor and then bowed himself out the door once again.
“You may pour, Miss Murdock, if you are not too tired,” the Duchess informed her.
Miss Murdock did as she had been asked, and that serene efficiency that St. James had noticed nearly twenty-four hours prior was evident to the Duchess. One would think that a poverty stricken, exhausted, rural Squire's daughter would be clumsy with tiredness and nerves, but Miss Murdock completed the task with such preoccupied ease and grace that the Dowager had a small moment's admiration for such a feat, inconsequential as it may seem.
“So, Miss Murdock,” she said as she took the tea cup and saucer that Miss Murdock held out to her. “Perhaps you can explain to me what is going on in my grandson's mind.”
“Indeed, ma'am, I wish I could. For I have spent all of the past round the clock trying to deduce it myself.” She glanced at the Duchess from her solemn brown eyes. “I fear, milady, and I do not wish to shock you, but it is perhaps best that you understand the full absurdness of this situation, that St. James offered for me, while very drunk I may add, because my father, who was also very drunk I may add, informed him that the horse he wished to purchase from my father was in fact my dowry.”
“Your dowry!” the duchess choked. For of all the things she imagined that could be the cause of St. James' current escapade and Miss Murdock's being there, she would never have imagined it was a dowry, most especially not in the form of a horse.
“Yes, I know it is shocking. And perhaps tomorrow after I have rested, I will regret very much telling you for it is also quite humiliating.”
“Never, my dear,” the Duchess told her, her mind racing over this information. “For I can not believe that St. James would offer for you merely to gain your horse. You met him before this offer was made, perhaps?” she asked. “Perhaps he developed an unexpected tendress for you?”
Miss Murdock let out a small peal of laughter. “Oh, ma'am, I am sorry, but yes, he did meet me briefly before this. But if you could have been there, you w
ould realize that no! an unexpected tendress was most impossible. For I was in men's breeches, you see. Yes,” she nodded in earnestness at the Dowager's diverted look. “For I was riding the horse in question on the track. Which I may add, when his lordship realized I was a female, he was most outraged, which knowing his reputation, I could scarce credit. Oh, sorry, ma'am. Did not mean to mention that, his reputation, I mean.”
“I'm well aware of it,” the Duchess returned in a dry voice. “Do, please, go on.”
“Well,” Miss Murdock set her cup down so as not to upset it as she expanded. “Not only could I not credit it because of as I mentioned, but I could not believe he could be so dense. For, I ask you, am I to ride on a race track in a ladylike sidesaddle?” and her brown eyes were very wide as she asked this. “Or perhaps astride, but with my skirt up about my knees? So you see, ma'am, I could not see how the perfect sense of the breeches so utterly escaped him.”
“Indeed,” the Duchess returned trying very hard to hide her grin. “I have never known St. James to be so stupid.”
“Oh, but the senselessness grows, ma'am. And although I do not mean to offend you, there is no reasoning with the man on any point, whether large or small.”
“Tut, child. I know exactly what you mean.”
“Do you, ma'am? I am relieved. But I get ahead of myself. If my being in men's breeches were not enough to discourage him, I am afraid that I rode quite shabbily, allowing Leaf, that is my horse, to get out of control and run into the fence. Your grandson was, of course, furious. And although he showed concern for me, I daresay he was more worried that Leaf had been ruined.”
“Indeed?” the Duchess replied. “If I found it unlikely that he merely wished to gain your horse before, I find it even more unlikely now after hearing that the horse is lame.”
Miss Murdock took a defensive swallow of tea. “I can not see, ma'am, where it could be anything else. Leaf luckily appears to be sound and I daresay it added to his determination to have her for he certainly would not wish for me to have further chance to maim her. He was cursing quite frightfully throughout the entire episode. That is how I know that he was most irate at me even though he was kind enough to make sure I had not broken my neck.”
Which Miss Murdock's saying caused the Dowager to laugh. “That is his standard demeanor, my dear, and does not mean a thing.”
And Miss Murdock replied with wide eyed solemnity, “So I have discovered. I am so glad that you understand just how unmovable he can be for then mayhaps you will understand, I hope, and not think badly of me, for being here. I swear I tried every argument I could muster to have him cry off immediately, all to no avail. I held out the hope all through this that once he sobered he would see the extreme error of his ways, but he was quite determined to continue drinking,” and she looked very put out as she said these words. “How is he to see any sense in anything when he is forever keeping himself in that condition?”
Before the Duchess could answer, and she was a little glad of that, for Miss Murdock's question was, really, quite unanswerable, Miss Murdock twisted her hands in her lap and continued. “Oh, I should not be laying all this at your door, ma'am, for you are doing me a kindness in even taking me in when we have never even been acquainted before, and all I have done is run down your grandson. I am dreadfully tired, and still quite irritated, for his proclamation to you tonight was simply unforgivable, and done for no other reason but to provoke me, I am certain, but at your expense also, I dare say. For I can only think that if you took him seriously for even a moment, you must have found yourself very shocked indeed.
“And why,” she went on as though unable to stop herself, and since she had not had a female to lament her troubles to, the Duchess could not blame her, “he insists upon continuously provokeing me, I can not tell you, for I have done my best to not provoke him,” and Miss Murdock's face suddenly flushed a very red color indeed, causing the Dowager to wonder what had brought that on! But instead of revealing anything that may account for her blush, Miss Murdock only added, “Except I did throw his whiskey flask into the ditch. I suppose that could be considered provoking, if one were wont to drink whiskey, which he is.”
“And I say that it did him no harm whatsoever, and that you are obviously nearly overwrought, Miss Murdock,” the Duchess told her.
“I confess, I feel nearly overwrought, which I have never felt until this day, except of course when my mother died.” She looked again at the Duchess and much of the animation had left her eyes as her anger had abated with the telling of her tale, leaving only tiredness. She added, “That is pretty much the story, milady, except for a good deal of pointless arguing throughout.”
“Then I shall not keep you up longer, child,” the Dowager replied and she called for Ashton to have Miss Murdock shown to her room. “I shall see you in the morning, and I daresay that we shall have a good deal of shopping to do if what you are wearing is any indication of your wardrobe.”
“We shall have to discuss that, milady, no disrespect meant, but I will not have you going to expense on my account when surely St. James will soon see his mistake and I will be returning home again.”
The Duchess could only say, “Well, we shall see,” and she remained for a while in her seat after Miss Murdock had been led off to her guest chamber, considering all that had been said and, she was certain, all that had not been said.
St. James made his way to his curricle, which had remained with Tyler at the front of his grandmother's home. He had intercepted that good man only an hour outside of London with no great difficulty, and now he strode up to the groom who was half-dozing on his feet and told him, “Very well, Tyler. I shall take them. I ask that you remain here on my grandmother's premises until I give you further word. See to it that Miss Murdock does not stray, will you, and as you have already delivered that letter to my solicitor, there is a slim possibility that word of our proposed premature 'nuptials' may have already leaked and cause some stirring from whomever we seek.”
“Aye, milord, thought of that meself when I was asked to deliver to your solicitor. You informed him that you were to be wed this night?”
“I did. At the time it seemed a good calculated risk, for I would be ensuring that my new wife were well taken care of if I ran into any difficulty. Now, with no wedding, I fear it may hurry my difficulty and take care of her not at all. So, please keep a sharp eye out, Tyler, and let me know of any strange activity immediately.”
For once his groom hesitated at his orders. He shook his head, told his lordship, “I understand your reasoning, milord, but I can't like it. They will do her no harm, I don't think, but your driving home alone, and as poor a shape as you're in, they couldn't ask for an easier target.”
St. James took the reins, swung himself rather less than surely onto the curricle. “What is this, Tyler?” he asked as he settled himself into his seat. His eyes were tired but they glinted, still, with amusement. “I have not had my wishes questioned enough this day so that now you musts question them further?” He gave a quick laugh as Tyler gave him a reproachful look and finished, “Just do as I say. I know the risks and I'm still at the ready, tired as I am. Whereas Miss Murdock is a reluctant participant and it must be made certain that she has no further regrets than she has already. And I really do not trust her to stay where she is placed, not after she has had a good night's rest at any rate.” Without further words or waiting for Tyler's response, he whistled to his horses who, being in London and familiar with the sights and sounds knew themselves to be very close to home indeed, took off with a more enthusiastic trot than they had shown when coming in above an hour before. Tyler watched the curricle out of sight with considerable misgivings and then turned with a sigh to find himself accommodations above the Dowager's stables with her grooms.
St. James, who doubted that his old family solicitor could not be trusted, still remained, as he had said, at the ready, both his dueling pistols retrieved from their padded box on the floorboards of the c
urricle and loaded and lying on the seat next to him, but as he had thought, he was not molested on the few blocks to his own townhouse, other than a single drunk that reeled out into the street nearly in his path and almost got shot for his troubles.
At this incident, St. James rubbed a hand over his face when he continued and confirmed to himself that he was very tired indeed, and hence a little more dangerous than usual, for his first instinct, without thought to temper it, would always be to kill first and ask questions later.
If his father had honed that instinct, which was more learned than natural, his father may have still been alive. But there were a million 'ifs' and probably always would be and sometimes St. James had to ask himself if part of his quest for vengeance was not just so he could know why it had been so important to someone that his parents be dead.
Killing, when the time came, could not be good enough. He had to have some answers.
His horses came onto the cobblestone half circle drive of his London home, all four stories of it, and a lesser groom came out of the shadows where he had been dozing and took their heads. “All right, then,” St. James said, stowing his pistols beneath his coat and flipping the reins over to the groom for him to drive the horses along the mew beside the house and back to the stables. Then St. James climbed the four wide steps to his home with uneven strides, was let in as he reached the door, not by his butler, as he was not expected, but by Effington, his valet.
“Good God!” St. James exclaimed, very much surprised to see that tall, thin, straight man. “What ever are you still doing awake?”
“I was merely down for a cup of tea, being unable to sleep, when I heard your curricle on the stones, milord,” Effington answered, and indeed, he was in a dressing gown and a night cap upon his oh-soproper head. “Seeing as how we were not expecting you and the lateness of the hour, I perceived I may be needed to help you above stairs.”
In the Brief Eternal Silence Page 14