The Highborn Housekeeper

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘Why do you think I only practice here when I am alone? My father is not at all musical and neither is his fiancée,’ she said crossly. ‘They will find my performance tedious in the extreme.’

  ‘But Dr Scotton wishes to hear you. To...er...send him to sleep.’

  She giggled and felt better for it, but was still determined to resist. ‘I am sure he will manage to sleep without it.’

  ‘But how can you disappoint the poor man, when he is clearly enamoured?’

  ‘Easily,’ she hissed at him. ‘The poor man, as you call him, has been following me about the house all day, making a nuisance of himself!’

  They had reached the side table and she stood, irresolute, as Gabriel sorted through the music sheets. As a child, music had been something she enjoyed, but only in secret, or with her sister. She recalled her mother saying that if they were going to the expense of hiring a music teacher for Mary then he might as well teach her, too. Father had been even less encouraging and had made no secret of his views.

  Mary must learn, of course, but Ann—Ann will never amount to much.

  She closed her eyes, trying to blot out the cruel words. If only he had continued to think her of such little worth. If only the rich and lascivious Viscount Packington had not shown an interest in her.

  ‘What about this?’

  She opened her eyes. Gabriel was holding up the open book.

  ‘You have called it “Laura’s Song”, but I know it better as “No One Shall Govern Me”.’

  She glanced at the page. It was the last thing she had written in her book, shortly before she had run away. The song was supposed to be a warning to young ladies, for Laura had ended as ‘a pettish, pert old maid’. Nancy had preferred to risk that fate rather than marry the man her father had chosen for her.

  ‘That is a little too close to my own story.’ She took the book and flicked back a couple of pages. ‘This one would be better, I think, “Sweet Jenny, the Maid of the Moor”.’ She flushed and thrust the book back at him, suddenly embarrassed. ‘I would rather not sing at all tonight.’

  ‘But you will, won’t you?’ He held her gaze, a smile of encouragement in his blue eyes. ‘If I play, you will sing it? For me?’

  Nancy hesitated, but she knew she would not refuse. The chance to perform for Gabriel, to make music with him, just once, was far too tempting. He read the answer in her face and smiled at her. Without a word he sat down at the pianoforte, placed the open notebook before him and began to run his fingers over the keys.

  ‘The lasses of Scotland are bonnie and free...’ Nancy began, barely glancing at the words, which readily came back to her. Her voice strengthened as her confidence grew and by the time the song had ended she was happy to sing again. This time it was ‘The Lily in the Vale’, then ‘Robin Adair’ and when Gabriel suggested a duet she agreed. It did not matter to her that her father was dozing in his chair or that Susan was looking bored. As the song progressed she forgot her audience, forgot everything save the pleasure of singing, her voice blending with Gabriel’s fine tenor as the music dipped and soared in the tale of two lovers, parted then reunited. Without thinking, she put her hand on his shoulder as the song reached its final chorus and as the last notes died away she found herself smiling, most foolishly.

  ‘Oh, brava, Lady Ann. Bravo, my lord! As fine a performance as I have ever heard!’ Dr Scotton applauded enthusiastically and, at a nudge from Susan, the Earl jerked awake with a snort.

  ‘Eh, what? Oh, aye. Very good, very good.’

  Gabriel was laughing up at her and Nancy beamed back, feeling inordinately pleased that they had performed so well together.

  ‘I am impressed, my lord,’ she murmured. ‘Is there no end to your talents?’

  ‘Thank you. I am considered very good with my hands.’

  She almost choked at the innuendo and had the greatest difficulty keeping her countenance as she moved away from the pianoforte.

  ‘Heavens, ’tis nigh on midnight,’ exclaimed Susan. ‘How the time has flown!’ She rose, clearly signalling the end of the evening.

  ‘It has, indeed, and I must go.’ Gabriel dutifully nodded towards the doctor, then turned to Nancy. ‘Lady Ann.’

  She gave him her hand. Her spirits were still bubbling with happiness from the singing and she said impulsively, ‘Thank you. I had not expected to enjoy myself so much this evening.’

  He kissed her fingers, mouthed the words two o’clock at her and turned to take his leave of his host and hostess. Then he was gone and it was all Nancy could do not to sigh.

  ‘What a delightful evening,’ declared Lady Craster, when the door had closed behind him. ‘It is a shame that Lord Gabriel will not be calling here again.’ She gave Nancy a condescending smile. ‘I did warn you, my dear, not to build up your hopes about the gentleman.’

  ‘A very pleasant fellow,’ remarked the doctor, ‘but not one to be relied upon, I fear.’ He gave a laugh. ‘These rich men are all the same, Lady Ann. They make very charming companions, but they never settle.’

  ‘That is exactly what I have been telling her.’ Susan walked across to Nancy and took her arm. ‘I think it time we retired, my dear.’

  They left the room together, but as soon as they were outside the door, Nancy gently released herself.

  Susan gave a little tut. ‘I hope you do not take the doctor’s warning amiss, or mine,’ she said. ‘You have been away from good society for a long time and as a widow I fear you may be susceptible to the charms of such a plausible rake.’

  ‘Thank you, but your advice is unnecessary,’ replied Nancy, her chin up. ‘Although I question if Lord Gabriel is so very bad.’

  ‘Oh, he is, my dear, believe me, I have met his sort before.’ Susan laughed softly. ‘And even if he were in earnest, you are the relict of a tradesman. The Baxendens would never countenance the union, be you ever so rich.’

  ‘I am well aware of that.’

  Susan was perfectly right, Nancy recalled how she had been shunned by the ton when she was masquerading in London as a wealthy widow. Society thought she was tainted by trade, but the truth was far, far worse. If society considered any connection with trade polluted the blood, what would they think of a woman who had been earning her living as a cook? Her grandmother’s legacy might make her acceptable to an impoverished gentleman, but as a wife for the son of a marquess, a man who had a comfortable fortune of his own? Unthinkable. She had never aspired to that, she told herself. She had never asked more of Gabriel than to spend a short time as his lover. Suddenly tears felt very close. Bidding Lady Craster a goodnight, she hurried away to her room.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nancy lay in her bed, waiting for the house to fall silent. By the light of her bedroom candle she watched the hands of her little clock move around. One o’clock. One thirty. She strained to listen for any sounds of movement in the house, but there was nothing, even the creaking timbers had settled for the night.

  Silently she slipped out of bed, pushed her feet into her soft kid slippers and threw a silk wrap over her nightgown. She opened the door and peeped out into the empty, silent stillness of the passage. She knew the house well enough to avoid the creaking boards and the moonlight through the lantern roof over the stairs was sufficient for her to creep down without a candle. When she reached the garden door she carefully slid back the bolts and waited.

  From somewhere above stairs she heard a clock strike the hour and almost before the chime had died away the handle turned. Silently the door opened and Nancy breathed a small sigh of relief as Gabriel came in.

  * * *

  In the dark shadows of the hall Gabriel could just make out a pale, wraith-like shape at the bottom of the stairs. Nancy. As his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, he saw that her glorious hair hung loose about her shoulders and she wore little more than a thin silk robe with the belt knotted tightly a
bout her waist. He could not stop himself reaching for her. After the briefest hesitation she came willingly into his arms, her lips tasting so sweet he was sorely tempted to carry her off to bed. It was less than two weeks since she had left Dell House but she was constantly in his thoughts. Impossible, of course. He had his orders. But later, perhaps, when this was over, he would come and find her.

  It was Nancy who broke off the kiss, but he heard her soft sigh and could not stop himself from teasing her.

  ‘Have you missed me?’ he whispered.

  Even in the darkness he knew she was blushing, but she pushed herself out of his arms and beckoned him to follow her. Without a word she picked up a bedroom candle and tinderbox from the console table and led the way up the stairs and through a labyrinth of passages to the locked room.

  ‘Do you need me to light the candle?’

  She was so close that he felt her soft breath on his cheek.

  ‘No.’ He reached into his pocket for the bundle of bent picks. It was the work of a moment to find the correct one, ease it past the wards and twist it to lift the locking lever. The bolt released with a faint click and they slipped inside. Nancy closed the door and leaned her back against it.

  ‘So, you add housebreaking to your accomplishments,’ she murmured. ‘What a varied career you have had, my lord.’

  He grinned. ‘During my short spell in the military I was in charge of one or two...er...irregular soldiers.’

  She gave a tut as she set to work lighting the candle. It added only marginally to the moonlight, barely enough to register to anyone who should happen to be out of doors. He glanced about the room. It had been stripped of most of its furniture and large expanses of wall gleamed pale and barren. From the strong smell of fresh paint, he guessed that the wood around the doors and windows and the panelling below the chair rail had been repainted.

  Nancy pointed to a bow-fronted chest of drawers draped with holland covers. A large parcel rested on the top.

  ‘The pattern book,’ she whispered. ‘Packaged and ready to be taken back to Lincoln.’

  Tucked under the string was Lady Craster’s letter of instructions to Hewitt and Sons. Gabriel picked it up and weighed in his hands.

  ‘Hmm. It is too light and too thin to contain the missing documents. They are more likely to be hidden in the pattern book itself. Bring the candle a little closer.’

  With extreme care he unfastened the string and removed the oilcloth wrapping to reveal a large book with board covers and curling letters proudly proclaiming the name: Hewitt’s Paper Hanging and Papier Mâché Manufactory. Gabriel ran his fingers over the edges of the rag-paper samples that had been bound into the book and gave a small nod of satisfaction. From between the pages he pulled out a stiff sheaf of papers, folded and bound with a red ribbon.

  ‘Success.’

  Nancy stared at the embossed seal securing the ribbon. Until that moment she had not truly believed the missing documents could be at Masserton Court and she felt a chill run down her spine. How could her father be involved in this? Surely he would not knowingly risk dishonour, disgrace and execution. And yet here was the proof. She put one hand to her mouth, feeling a little sick.

  ‘Nancy?’ Gabriel was looking closely at her. ‘Are you going to faint on me?’

  The gentle taunt had its effect.

  ‘No, of course not.’ She drew a breath and held the candle a little higher. ‘Go on.’

  He drew out his penknife, heated the blade on the candle and gently eased the seal from one length of the ribbon. The outer paper was blank, no more than a protective covering. Gabriel took the inner sheets and opened them. Nancy peered over his shoulder, but the closely written lines danced before her eyes and she could not read them.

  ‘Is that what you are looking for?’ she breathed. ‘Is that the plans?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ His voice was grim. She fought down another wave of nausea and Gabriel said softly, ‘I should not have dragged you into this. Oh, Nancy, you must wish you had never met me.’

  She shook her head. ‘I wish this was not happening, but my not knowing of it would make no difference. What will happen now?’

  ‘I will take these papers to London and the sample book must continue on its journey, hopefully with no one the wiser about its contents. Captain Graves can then apprehend the carrier and everyone else involved.’

  ‘Including my father.’

  ‘Yes. I am so very sorry.’

  For one wild moment she considered begging Gabriel to destroy the papers, to forget everything and run away with her. He wouldn’t do it, of course. Those betraying England must be stopped, she knew that, it was what had to be done. But she still could not believe her father was a traitor. Perhaps Gabriel would give her time to warn him, so that he might flee the country...

  Gabriel was refolding the closely written papers. ‘We need to replace them with something,’ he said, slipping them into his coat. ‘In case anyone decides to check the documents are still there.’

  Nancy went over to the small table by the window, where Susan’s notes and papers were spread in disorder. She sifted through the sheets, scanning them quickly by the light of the candle and selecting several which she carried back to Gabriel.

  ‘Here. Use these.’ She added, unable to keep a faint tremor of relief from her voice, ‘They are all addressed to Lady Craster, there is no mention of my father.’

  ‘Nancy, I will do my best, but I cannot promise to keep him out of this.’

  ‘I understand that. The best he can do is to plead ignorance. Better that he is thought a crass fool than a traitor.’

  She pushed the papers into his hands. They were slightly smaller than the originals, but once they were folded and placed inside the plain outer sheet, she could see no discernible difference. Gabriel retied the ribbon, then carefully warmed the bottom of the wax seal and fixed it in position before putting the documents back between the pages.

  Somewhere in the house a board creaked and Nancy jumped.

  She touched his arm. ‘You should go. It is vital you get those plans away. Let me finish off here.’

  ‘No, I’ll do it. I memorised how it was packaged and tied.’ He gave her a reassuring smile. ‘There is no hurry, I cannot set out for London before dawn and I need to brief Captain Graves.’

  To Nancy’s stretched nerves it felt like a lifetime before the oilcloth was once more wrapped and tied. She snuffed the candle before they left the room and waited nervously while Gabriel relocked the door. She tried to steady her breathing, but knew she would not relax until he was clear of the Court. Her knees felt decidedly weak as she led him back down the stairs, remembering to deposit the candle and tinderbox on the table as they passed it. At the garden door, Gabriel stopped.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said softly. ‘I owe you more than I can say.’

  ‘I did what had to be done. I would be happier if my father was found not to be involved.’

  ‘I will do what I can for him, you have my word.’

  She nodded silently, beyond speech. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, hard. She could not help herself responding, taking what comfort she could from their kiss, knowing it would be the last. When the kiss had ended and he raised his head, she pushed herself free.

  ‘Go now. Take those papers back to London with all speed.’

  He caught her hands, saying urgently, ‘Come with me. It is not safe for you here. I could pick you up at first light and take you to London.’ He squeezed her fingers. ‘I want you with me, Nancy. We are good together.’

  She fought down the sudden lump in her throat. She wanted so badly to go with him, but as what, his mistress? One of the dozens he had spoken of. When he grew tired of her she did not doubt he would pay her off handsomely, but she did not want that. She had enjoyed his company, the memories of the days—and nights—they had shared were
squirrelled away, ready to be conjured up whenever she was feeling low, but it was better that they end this now, while she could walk away with her head held high, even if her heart was not quite unscathed. She summoned up a laugh and forced a cheerful note into her voice.

  ‘We were good together, weren’t we? But we both agreed it could only ever be a short liaison, while the snow lasted.’

  She looked past him. The fields were still mostly white, but there were darker patches now, where the snow had disappeared. Time to end this.

  She said, ‘You need not worry about me, Gabriel, I am in no danger. I intend to set out for Prospect House today, this very morning, and as neither my father nor Lady Craster wants me here, they are hardly likely to object to my leaving.’

  Gabriel was watching her and she was very afraid that if he did not go soon, her resolve would crumble. She would cast off the last vestiges of pride and throw herself into his arms. She gave him a little push, saying sharply, ‘Be off with you, my lord, and do your duty for King and country!’

  He hesitated a moment, as if he would speak, then he was gone, striding away into the darkness.

  * * *

  Nancy watched him go, his image burning itself into her memory: the broad shoulders, confident step, the glint of moonlight on his dark hair and his breath like smoke in the night air. Silently she cried out to him to turn back, to give her one last smile, but he kept walking. He was going back to his world and, in the morning, she would return to hers. She was suddenly aware of the icy night air penetrating her flimsy wrap and she shivered. Closing the door, she quietly slid the bolts in place. There was no reason they should ever meet again.

  * * *

  Gabriel rode away from Masserton Court, his horse’s hoofs beating a rhythmic tattoo on the hard ground. He had achieved his objective, to retrieve the stolen plans and discover how they were getting out of the country. He had already informed his people in London about Meldrew, the London carrier, and he could now pass on his information about the wallpaper supplier to Captain Graves. The captain would be able to intercept Hewitt’s wagons on their next trip to the coast and he had no doubt that the sample book from Masserton would be among the packages, together with the papers incriminating Lady Craster.