Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 04] (11 page)

“Oh, dear,” Miss Abigail said behind her, “we were afraid you might find out. Miranda will be vexed.”

L
ETTY GLANCED AT MISS
Abigail, who wrung her hands in clear distress. In her agitation, the elaborate confection of lace, ribbons, feathers, and beads atop her little head twitched and bobbed in a colorful dance.

“Miranda particularly asked Lady Witherspoon
not
to come today,” she said fretfully, “but her ladyship insisted, and now look what’s come of it. Miranda will be so dreadfully vexed, and I am sure one cannot blame her.”

“Ma’am, really, what on earth …” Letty began, only to fall silent when she could not think of an acceptable way to word the question she was burning to ask.

Catherine had dived beneath the covers to join her companion. The bed quaked with their movements, while Jeremiah hurled simian epithets at the marmalade cat, still inching its way slowly but determinedly up the curtain.

Stepping away from the door, and clearly expecting Letty to follow her, Miss Abigail said, “I know that you said I should stay below, dear, but you must see now that I simply could not let you come up here alone.”

“Yes, I understand why you felt you could not,” Letty agreed, watching her but not stirring from the threshold, “especially if you knew what I would find.”

“Well, of course, I knew
that,
although naturally, I could not know precisely where your dear little monkey would run.

I did not know
exactly
what you would find, either, even here, but Miranda says that when the worst possible thing can happen, it does happen. I fear this proves that, as usual, she knows whereof she speaks. Do come away now, dear.”

“Surely, ma’am, you and Mrs. Linford do not condone what they are doing in there. I must tell you, I do not believe that man can be Lord Witherspoon.”

“No, of course he is not,” Miss Abigail said with an air of surprise. “My goodness me, Lord Witherspoon has a perfectly good house of his own in Berkeley Square. Why would he need to come here to go to bed with his own wife?”

“But if you knew what I would find, and if you know that those two are not man and wife …”

When Letty paused expectantly, Miss Abigail said with a sigh, “I know what this must look like to you, my dear, but truly—”

“It looks like a brothel,” Letty said, glancing again at the bed, which continued to twitch spasmodically.

“Oh, dear, no,
not
a brothel,” exclaimed Miss Abigail. “Not at all! We prefer to think of it in the French fashion, as
une maison de tolérance.
You will understand the difference, I expect. After living in France for so many years, you must speak at least a little of their language. Oh, what are you doing now?” These last words came with a shriek of dismay, for Letty had walked right into the bedchamber.

Over her shoulder, she said, “Pray, calm yourself, Miss Abigail. I am merely going to get Jeremiah down before that cat gets close enough to attack him or he attacks the cat.” As she spoke, she reached for the marmalade cat, grasped it firmly, and detached it from the curtains, ignoring the low growl it emitted in protest of her intrusion into its affairs. “I do speak French,” she added as she set the cat on the floor and turned to coax Jeremiah from his perch. “You mean that this is merely a house of assignation, do you not, a place of rendezvous for lovers?”

“Yes, exactly, so you see, it is nothing in the least bit objectionable to anyone of sense,” Miss Abigail said placidly. “Will he bite you?”

“No, ma’am, but perhaps you might just encourage the cat to leave the room. I expect these people would like us to go away, and Jeremiah is unlikely to descend if the cat remains.”

“Oh, to be sure. Come along, Clemmy.”

Letty glanced at her again. “Clemmy? I thought it was called Puss.”

“No, only Liza calls him Puss. His name is St. Clement’s,” Miss Abigail explained as she picked up the cat and stroked him. “Perhaps you do not know our English nursery rhymes, but because he is orange and yellow—”

“Oh, of course. ‘Oranges and lemons, sang the bells of St. Clement’s.’ I must say, though, he does not behave much like a saint.”

“No, and the name became too much for us to say every time, so he soon became just Clemmy. I’ll shut him up in my bedchamber for now, dear, and then I shall wait for you on the landing.”

“Thank you. I’ll be along directly.”

Although finding it difficult to ignore the couple in the bed, Letty forced herself to act as if she were alone with the monkey. She coaxed patiently, and was rewarded when he dropped to her shoulder and rubbed his face against her neck.

“Poor Jeremiah,” she crooned, stroking him and holding her muff open until he slid down her arm and curled up inside. Then, without another word, she left the room, shutting the door securely behind her.

In the hallway, she found Jenifry, her eyes wide with astonishment. “Miss Letty,” the maid said, “was there people in that bed? It looked like—”

“There were,” Letty said. “I don’t know whether to laugh or to shriek like Jeremiah. I begin to think that I have inherited a most unusual household, Jen, and I am not at all certain what I should do about it.”

“I expect you should tell his lordship, miss. That’s what you ought to do. Why, it’s wicked, what they’re doing. Unless, of course,” she added with a conscientious air, “those two are husband and wife.”

“You know they are not,” Letty said, “but I am not sending word of this to Papa. I don’t want you talking of it to anyone, either, particularly not to Elvira.”

“Lor’, I wouldn’t,” Jenifry said indignantly. “You know I’d never—”

“I do know,” Letty said, “and I did not mean to offend you. I just want to be certain you understand that I depend upon your discretion. If you write to your friends in Paris, you must not mention this, lest it somehow get back to Papa.”

“It’s not like you to keep secrets from his lordship, my lady.”

“If I’ve sunk to being my lady, I know you do not approve, but I am not keeping it from him, exactly. I just want to show him I can manage my own affairs.”

“This
affaire
is not yours, however, but someone else’s.”

Letty chuckled. “It is, indeed. Mercy, what a coil! But come along now. Miss Abigail will have shut up the cat and is doubtless impatiently awaiting our arrival. I wonder what Mrs. Linford will say about this.”

“Not much just now,” Jenifry said, her eyes twinkling. “Don’t you remember, miss? Jackson said she’s got the vicar with her.”

Stifling a childish urge to giggle, Letty led the way down to the first landing, where they did indeed find Miss Abigail awaiting them. She rubbed her hands on her skirt, and although no trace of dampness showed, Letty wondered if the elderly lady’s palms were sweating at the thought of telling her sister that Letty had discovered the house’s little secret.

“As you see, I’ve got him, Miss Abigail,” Letty said.

Nodding distractedly, Miss Abigail said, “I wonder if I might ask you not to call me Abigail, my dear. To have both you and Miranda calling me Abigail, which I promise even Papa never did, is quite unnerving. I much prefer Abby.”

“Yes, of course, ma’am,” Letty said. “I shall be delighted to call you so.”

Miss Abby led her to a drawing room larger than the one she had seen before, but the old lady had no sooner stepped inside than she stopped in her tracks, exclaiming, “Vicar! My goodness me, I thought you must have gone by now. That is to say … W-won’t you have another biscuit? Liza,” she added in an overloud voice to the girl, who was straightening items on a side table, “don’t you see that Mr. Shilston’s plate is empty? A hostess does not neglect a guest’s needs, my dear.”

“Vicar is just leaving,” Mrs. Linford said calmly. “He waited only to meet Letitia. Letitia, my dear, may I present Mr. Shilston, our vicar from St. Michael’s Chapel. Vicar, this is Lady Letitia Deverill, who now owns this house.”

“That was a very odd thing for your cousin to do, I must say, and ’tis fortunate indeed that your father had left you two dear ladies well fixed for life,” the vicar said in reedlike tones as he got to his feet and made a ponderous bow. He was a stout man of medium height, and when Letty held out her hand, his proved chilly when he grasped it. His grip was light, however, and his smile delightful. He said, “I am sure you must have found it odd, too, my lady, for if you even were acquainted with Augustus Benthall, I am sure I never knew of it.”

“You are kind to concern yourself, sir,” she said, gently removing her hand from his grasp.

“It may be no more than kindness to inquire,” Mrs. Linford said, “but I cannot imagine why you should know about our cousin’s affairs, Vicar. It would be even odder, in my mind, if you did, for Augustus rarely confided in anyone and his opinion of the church don’t bear repeating in polite company.”

“Yes, yes, my dear Mrs. Linford, but we must give him the benefit of our superior knowledge of religion, must we not? He was kind enough to establish your tenancy here, and thus I am convinced that he is now with our Lord, which is what I have said over and over to you, in hopes of comforting you for his loss.”

“My dear Vicar, Augustus has been gone for over nine months now. Any comfort we might have required—and in truth, I don’t believe we required any—would be long overdue had you not been so conscientious in the meantime about expressing it every time we have chanced to meet.”

“Ah, yes, but two ladies living all alone! One must attempt one’s poor best. I know that you, my dear ma’am, are quite capable of looking after yourself, but—”

“Do you think I am not?” Miss Abby demanded.

“That will do, Abigail,” Mrs. Linford said, glancing at Letty. “Letitia has come here to take a tour of the house, Vicar, so I daresay you will not object if I ring for Mrs. Hopworthy now, and arrange for her to do so.”

“Bless me, I have already stayed longer than I ought,” he said, bowing in her general direction but keeping his eyes on Letty. “You would prefer to show her the house yourself, I daresay, and I am keeping you from that pleasant duty. No need to ring for anyone to show me out, either,” he added. “If after all these years I do not know my way to your front door, I do not know anything at all.”

Despite this assurance, Mrs. Linford pulled the bell, and Jackson appeared with sufficient speed to inform Letty that he had been awaiting the summons. He glanced from her to Miss Abby, then nodded to the vicar and held open the door.

When it had shut again behind them, Mrs. Linford sighed and said, “I daresay there are vicars in this world who are not tedious bores. It would be a pleasant change of affairs if we could get one of them at St. Michael’s, but I daresay I should not speak ill of any servant of God. How do you do today, Letitia?”

“Very well, thank you, ma’am,” Letty said. “I hope you know you need not trouble to show me over the house yourself. I shall be quite content with Mrs. Hopworthy, I promise you.”

“Yes, I daresay. I’ll just ring for—”

“Not yet, Miranda,” Miss Abby said urgently. “There is something that we must … That is to say, a certain unfortunate event has occurred that—” Breaking off again with a gesture that set the ribbons and beads on her hat fluttering, she tried again. “Not unfortunate, no,” she said. “At least, that is not the word I should use. The plain fact is that … well … Oh, dear Miranda, you will be so vexed!”

“I will certainly be vexed if you do not explain yourself, Abigail,” Mrs. Linford said austerely. “Liza,” she added, “it is time for your walk in the garden, my dear. Bid Lady Letitia good afternoon and then be on your way.”

When Liza had gone, albeit with visible reluctance, Mrs. Linford said, “Now, what on earth were you trying to tell me, Abigail?”

“Letitia knows. She didn’t peek, exactly, but …”

When she paused again, the resulting silence grew heavy. Mrs. Linford looked from her to Letty and back before she said, “You are unnecessarily cryptic, Abigail. Be plain, if you please, so that one need not guess what you mean to say.”

When Miss Abby’s mouth opened and shut several times, making her look like a distracted fish, Letty took pity on her.

“I am afraid Jeremiah escaped, ma’am,” she said. “I did not bring his chain today, because he can detach it from his collar himself, and I thought my muff would suffice to hold him. It did not, however, and I’m afraid he got upstairs and into one of the bedchambers before I could recapture him.”

Mrs. Linford’s eyes narrowed. “Jeremiah? Oh, yes, your pet monkey. Abigail was in raptures all morning at the expectation of his coming today. You say he escaped. Where is he now, if I may ask?”

“He is curled up, asleep, in my muff now,” Letty said, raising it slightly, “but your cat frightened him, you see, and he got away and dashed up the stairs.”

“I am happy to say that the cat is not mine. It belongs to Abigail.”

“They interrupted Lady Witherspoon, Miranda!” Miss Abby spoke in a rush, with the air of one confessing to a great crime.

Mrs. Linford looked long at her, then said calmly, “I see. Sit down, Letitia. It becomes plain that we must talk.”

“Yes, certainly, ma’am,” Letty said, taking a nearby chair.

Miss Abby chose a straight-backed chair by the door, and sat poised as if to take flight at any moment.

Letty said, “I don’t know what there is to discuss, ma’am. Surely you know that I cannot be associated with such goings-on. Indeed, I daresay you ought not to be associated with them, either. Lady Witherspoon’s assignations here must stop.”

Matter-of-factly Mrs. Linford said, “Where would you have her go instead?”

“Yes, where?” Miss Abby echoed. “She must go somewhere. Moreover, we have many other friends who have such difficulties as you cannot imagine, finding appropriate places in which to enjoy themselves. We are doing them a great service, my dear. You would not have us abandon them all, I hope.”

“All?” Letty felt her composure slipping. Only too easily could she imagine her father’s reaction to this discovery. “H-how many people are involved?”

“Only a dozen or so, I believe,” Mrs. Linford said.

“Oh, no, Miranda,” Miss Abby said. “I am sure we must have at least a score or more by now. You must have forgotten that both of the ladies Bar—”