“Oh, dear, you are right,” Lady Lydia gasped. “I have misjudged you shockingly! It is all so clear now. You are trying to save yourself from him,” she said with a great deal of drama. “Oh, my dear!”
Miss Murdock, thrown quite a bit off stride, said, “What?”
“Yes,” Lady Lydia nodded, evidently finding this line of thinking more obvious and correct with each passing moment. “Oh, I can see it all now, and it is all so perfectly understandable! He offered to send you to his grandmother's in London, as a kindness, he told you. And you, of course not knowing his true character, took him up on it, having no idea. . . ! And only once you got here did you realize what he truly had in mind! Oh, my dear, I could weep for you,” she finished, looking as though she would weep. “And to think I have been in here dressing you down. But of course, Miss Murdock, you must know that you can never, never ride with a gentleman without chaperone, not even in the daylight, let alone in the middle of the night!” She shook her head as though to clue Miss Murdock in as to her proper response.
Miss Murdock, feeling a great deal mystified at this reversal in Lady Lydia's attitude, found herself shaking her head.
“And no matter what he says to lure you down in the middle of the night, you must never, never go!” More head shaking by Lady Lydia and responding head shaking from Miss Murdock.
“Normally, I would not be so understanding, but, of course, your mother has been dead for some years and there is no way that you could know what every other young lady of quality has had positively drilled into her head.” And she dabbed at her eye as though most overcome by this sad, sad state of affairs. “Oh, my poor, dear child,” she whispered.
Then she sat forward. “You must tell me, Miss Murdock,” she advised in a hushed, sympathetic voice, “Did he compromise you in any way?”
And Miss Murdock, feeling off-balance, shook her head and said, “No, of course he did not.”
And Lady Lydia patted her hand. “Then you got off very lucky, indeed, my dear. But I don't have to tell you, that if it ever came out that you had even met with him, you would be quite, quite ruined. But you needn't fear, for I shall not breath a word of it to anyone.”
There was a tapping on the door, and Miss Murdock called for entrance with a great deal of enthusiasm.
Jeannie's red head stuck in upon the door's opening, and her green eyes took in the presence of Lady Lydia closeted with Miss Murdock in her sitting room off bed chamber with a degree of suppressed interest, but she only said, “Miss, the Duchess has asked that you come below, for she has a caller and wishes you to meet her. And Lady Lydia, I am sure she would wish you to know also.”
“Oh,” Lady Lydia smiled, always anxious to receive callers, which in the year after her husband's death had dwindled in respect for the household's mourning. “Who is it?”
“Lady Frobisher, ma'am,” Jeannie replied.
“Oh, very important,” she said. “Go on, Miss Murdock, for you would not wish to snub her in any way. I'll follow you down in just a moment, I just need to quickly refresh myself in my room.” She took Miss Murdock's hand in hers and patted it in a reassuring fashion. “And about this other matter, Miss Murdock, I have quite a bit of advice to give you, for I can see now that if any one is at fault, it is I for not seeing more clearly my duty by you, as the Duchess is just not fully up to it any more. And of course she has a blind spot where her grandson is concerned large enough to drive a dray through— but nevermind! We will take this up where we left off later, shall we?”
But she did not even leave time for Miss Murdock to answer as she rose from her chair as she spoke and the tail end of her words came just before she passed Jeannie and went out the door.
“Do you wish to freshen up, miss?” Jeannie asked Miss Murdock.
Miss Murdock, who had risen from her seat also, paused in her strides to the door. “Do I look badly?” she asked, uncertain.
“No, Miss. You look quite well.”
“Well, then, I think I shall just escape before she changes her mind and returns,” Miss Murdock breathed and passed on through the door that Jeannie held open for her. She observed Lady Lydia making her way down the hallway in the opposite direction of the stairs as she went to make ready for her visitor in whatever way she seemed to deem necessary, and Miss Murdock would not have spared her another thought except she chanced to notice that when Lady Lydia turned into her bedchamber it was on the opposite side of the hallway from Miss Murdock's room.
And that struck Miss Murdock as very odd indeed, enough for her to pause before going down the hallway, for her own bedroom looked over the mew, and she could not see how Lady Lydia would have thus been aware of the carriage parked in it last night when her own room faced the other direction.
“Jeannie, was that Lady Lydia's bedchamber that she turned into?” she asked her maid.
Jeannie glanced down the hallway, but of course Lady Lydia was already out of view, but she did say, “If you mean the third door down on the right, ma'am, I believe that to be her bedchamber.”
Miss Murdock smiled with distraction at this confirmation that Lady Lydia had indeed gone into her own bedchamber. “Thank you, Jeannie. I was merely curious,” and she turned to go below without any further delay.
“Ah, there you are, Miss Murdock,” the Dowager Duchess said when Ashton opened the door for her to enter the sitting salon. “I was just telling Lady Frobisher that I hoped I was not interrupting you taking a rest, for you only arrived the night before last and are still feeling a little tired from your journey.”
Miss Murdock curtsied before that lady, said, “I am very pleased to meet you, Lady Frobisher,” and then replied to the duchess, “I was endur. . . er, enjoying a tête-à-tête with Lady Larrimer, ma'am, and she has said she will be down momentarily to join us.”
“Oh,” the Duchess said, sounding less than pleased at the thought of her daughter-in-law joining them. “But have a seat, Miss Murdock. Lady Frobisher was very surprised to learn I had a visitor to launch for the season this year.”
“Indeed, I was,” Lady Frobisher agreed. “And I am very charmed to meet you.”
“Thank you, Lady Frobisher,” Miss Murdock acknowledged.
“And I shall be seeing you again this evening,” Lady Frobisher went on to tell her, “for the Duchess tells me you shall be attending tonight and that it is to be your first time in Almacks.”
“Yes. It is my first time in London, so every thing is quite new, and a little overwhelming, I dare say.”
Lady Frobisher smiled at this confession, and appeared to take some pride in the fact that she must seem very urban indeed to this rural miss. “I find it very entertaining to see ourselves through someone's eyes who is uninitiated, Miss Murdock, for I fear that the wonder of it all has escaped me many years ago.”
“Oh, surely it could not be so many years ago,” Miss Murdock told her, twinkling, “for you scarce look as though you had your coming out yourself but recently.”
Lady Frobisher laughed with delight. “Oh, but she is a flatterer, Dowager Larrimer!” she said.
“I am learning very quickly,” Miss Murdock explained.
“And you shall make out splendidly, I am sure,” Lady Frobisher agreed. She turned to glance at the Duchess with a raised eyebrow. “I can see just what you had been saying, Dowager, and I have only spoken but a scarce few words with her.”
“Then you can understand, I hope, my urgency on the matter I was speaking of with you?”
Lady Frobisher nodded her head in understanding. “Yes. I believe I do.” She turned to Miss Murdock and told her as though enlightening her in some manner, “I am the head of the ladies who organize the events at Almacks, Miss Murdock.”
“Oh! I see,” Miss Murdock said with what she deemed to be the proper amount of awe in her voice. “I am sure it must be an incredible amount of work.”
“And indeed it is,” Lady Frobisher said. “For you must have an inexhaustible knowledge of all the families
of the peerage, and know who is properly respectable and who is somewhat lacking. The assemblies at Almacks have been built on the tradition of respectability, Miss Murdock,” she lectured with sternness. “And we in charge of the assemblies are trusted by everyone to insure that when our young people mingle, that there is none of bad influence among them, and that anyone they meet in our assembly room is a desirable match in marriage. It is a great responsibility and I take it very seriously.”
“I see,” Miss Murdock said, but she had a great desire to laugh, for it all seemed very pompous and pretentious to her.
“So you may rest assured,” Lady Frobisher continued, “that if we perhaps were to allow someone access that had been denied access before, it is only because we have great hopes that he is at last reforming, and it is our duty as Christians to afford him an opportunity to redeem himself in the eyes of society.”
“But of course,” Miss Murdock said, wondering how this particular wrinkle managed to make its way into the conversation.
Lady Frobisher nodded at her in approval, as though she had given precisely the answer she had been looking for. “I just do not want it to be even hinted at that we ladies of the board had somehow been swayed by the rank of any particular person.”
“Certainly not,” Miss Murdock agreed. “For I can see that you take your position quite sincerely and it would be an injustice indeed for any one to think you could be swayed to a decision by anything but a person's character.”
“Exactly,” Lady Frobisher agreed and gave the Dowager, who had been sitting and listening to this exchange with a great deal of amusement on her face, another approving nod. “I must say that your Miss Murdock is a most sensible girl!”
Miss Murdock, who could see no sense in any of this conversation, merely said, “Thank you.”
The Dowager told Lady Frobisher, “As I had said, Lady Frobisher.”
Lady Frobisher glanced at the clock, said, “Well, my hour is up, Duchess St. James. If I can be of any other assistance, you know you only need to call upon me.”
The Duchess told her, “You are doing me a great service already, Lady Frobisher.”
“Well,” that Lady said as she rose from her seat. “Allowances must be made, I have always said. Although I must tell you, had it been anyone but you to ask, well, the outcome may have been different.”
“I understand,” the Dowager agreed. “And I do not blame you in the least.”
“And begging your pardon,” Lady Frobisher added, “but I always knew this day would come. For no one can do the 'proper' without Almacks to help guide the way!”
“And I am certainly aware of it,” the Duchess returned. “And I hope the wedding present I have made out for your daughter expresses my thanks adequately.”
Lady Frobisher paused at that, her eyes losing a great deal of their self-important gleam. “It does, indeed, Duchess St. James. So please, do not even mention your gratitude further.”
“Of course not,” the Duchess agreed. “For I would not want it to be thought that I had suddenly shown your daughter some sort of favoritism when we both know I have been very fond of her since she was born. So perhaps we should keep it our little secret or I shall have people I do not know as well as I know you suddenly sending me invitations for weddings when I am but on nodding acquaintance with them.”
Lady Frobisher was all smiles again. “I'm sure that would be best, Dowager, for I would not want any one less scrupulous than I to take advantage of your generosity.”
“Oh, a horrid thought.”
“Yes. Most horrid.”
“Good day, Lady Frobisher.”
“And good day to you, Dowager, Miss Murdock.”
Lady Frobisher took her leave and the Duchess sat back and smiled.
“Oh, my,” Lady Lydia exclaimed from the door, “Did I miss our caller, then?”
“I'm afraid you have, Lydia,” the Duchess told her. “But nevermind, for you shall see her tonight at Almacks of course, along with many others. I have no doubt it will be a horrendous crush.”
“Oh, I certainly hope so,” Lady Lydia returned. “Aren't you looking forward to it, Miss Murdock?” she asked breathlessly.
Miss Murdock smiled to be agreeable. “I'm sure it shall be very interesting,” she offered. She was all the more disconcerted when the Duchess laughed gaily.
By the time Tyler perceived and set out upon St. James' trail, it was late afternoon. The finer weather of that morning had clouded over and it looked to be only a brief time before cold rain would fall from the sky. Tyler could think of several better places to be than riding out of London toward a horse market.
In all likelihood, even if he found his employer, it was a fruitless endeavor, for he was quite certain that even as he rode, Miss Murdock must already be feeling the consequences of her escapade with the duke the night before. At this thought, Tyler spit a determined stream of tobacco juice from his mouth and shook his head. He muttered beneath his breath, as he had frequently since he had begun his search for his employer over two hours before. “Can't credit it, can't credit it, can't credit it,” he said. “For him to be so bloody careless—” He cursed a little with worry, added to himself, “And now I can't bloody find him when he should be well aware that it be important I know where he is, and when I do get wind of where he is, he's off purchasing another bloody horse.”
As if to punctuate his dark displeasure with his lordship, the rain that had been threatening began to fall. No kind drizzle this, but an outpouring of great drenching drops that forced Tyler to halt his horse and tug his cap down more tightly on his head and lift the collar of his coat as high as he could coax it. Then with an even grimmer expression, he kicked his unhappy horse forward on down the road.
He had just come into sight of the market place, which was in an open field and was fast breaking up with the sudden onslaught of rain, when he saw the familiar figure of his lordship just leaving. Beside him rode Ryan Tempton, as Tyler had expected, having gained his first insight of where the duke had gone that day by following a hunch and inquiring at the Tempton residence when calling at the duke's home had been of no help.
Ryan had on lead a flashy black filly, her coat shining in the rain like so much crude oil, and St. James for his part was leading a horse behind his mount that was possibly the poorest specimen of an equine that Tyler had ever seen. The groom pulled his horse to a stop, as they were headed for him at any rate, and merely sat there observing the elegant duke and his lamentable purchase: a sway backed, heavy headed, small horse just slightly larger than a pony, more appropriately called a cob.
By sitting there and observing, he became aware that although his lordship and young Mister Tempton appeared to be having conversation between them, that St. James nonetheless was turning every so often in his saddle, his mind obviously only half attending whatever Ryan was saying to him, as his intent eyes took in his surroundings behind him. And when he turned back to face forward, his eyes scoped far up ahead of him and even from the distance between them, Tyler caught a chill as their gold depths settled on him with a snap and his lordship (who unlike Ryan had been holding both the reins and the lead in one hand, leaving the other hand free) pressed his hand to the inside of his open coat (unusual in this weather) and half-drew a pistol before he recognized the groom.
Tyler, who out of surprise had spat his entire cud of tobacco from his mouth in preparation to calling out, saw at once that this simple act may have saved him, for his lordship evidently recognized his particular habit. He waited no longer, but kicked his horse forward, and trotted down to meet them.
“Mighty nervous, milord,” he said as way of greeting even as Ryan exclaimed surprise at his unexpected appearance.
“A tad,” St. James replied. “Take this horse, will you, Tyler,” and he passed the lead over to his groom, leaving him more control of his own mount. He did not button his coat, but the pistol he had half drawn was again out of sight.
Ryan, oblivious to hi
s lordship's strange actions, asked, “Whatever brings you here, Tyler? And however did you find us?”
As way of answer, Tyler opened the pocket flap of his coat and pulled from it a handkerchief, handed it to St. James, whose gold eyes left off their restless circling for a moment to appraise it. “Bloody Hell!” he exclaimed as all the possible implications must have ran through his mind. He shoved it without ceremony into his own coat pocket, turned to Ryan. “Let's try to get out of this rain, shall we, Ryan,” and with no further warning of his intent, kicked his horse into a gallop.
Ryan and Tyler urged their horses along after him, the black filly seeming to merely lope along, but the smallish cob of a horse that Tyler now led with its awkward head and heavy, swaying body did nothing but labor and slow them down. Still, they made good time, and Tyler was as satisfied as he could possibly be in the situation.
They rode through the rain for an hour, the drenching downpour not slackening and neither did their horses. As they entered the West End of London, St. James slowed his horse and said to Ryan, “I'll be going straight to my home, Ryan, if you should care to join us.”
Ryan, drenched and all the excitement he had felt at riding out with the infamous duke quite squashed with the weather and the rather mundane way in which their day had turned out after all (for the duke had remained most disappointingly calm and tractable throughout their excursion), said with some relief that he really should head home as he was still to go to Almacks that evening.
St. James nodded once, took the lead from Ryan's hand, told him, “Well, I shall see you there then, I expect,” and rode off with his groom, leaving Ryan to ride on to his own residence.
Fifteen minutes later, the duke and Tyler rode into the stables, where their horses' bodies began to steam, and they each dismounted. Two undergrooms came running up, as Tyler had enjoyed the position of head-groom now for many years, and they took the four horses, two on leads and two under saddle, from Tyler and his lordship. “Come into the house with me, Tyler,” St. James bade, “for I shall have to talk to you while I change, for it is getting late.”
In the Brief Eternal Silence Page 27