Christina Hollis (20 page)

Madeleine twisted her handkerchief into an even tighter ball. ‘It doesn’t matter. As long as you know now what Pickersgill’s like.’

‘He’s not a man to give up lightly, I know that to my own cost. Any breath of scandal would ruin you, mademoiselle.’

‘Pickersgill’s not satisfied with ruining you, then?’

‘That doesn’t matter.’

There was a long silence. Madeleine could feel he was standing quite close behind her, but unlike Sir Edwin there was no threat in his manner.

‘Don’t be frightened if he tries to alarm you with details of the new arrangement, mademoiselle. I can manage.’

He said nothing else, but, wise in the ways of such things, Madeleine guessed what Pickersgill had been up to at the party.

‘He wants more money?’

‘Yes. To service the loan, supposedly. Although the reality is that it will buy his silence. Temporarily, at least.’ Movements slowed by the heaviness of his debt, Philip moved around her to take a seat on the edge of the library table. ‘Can I ask you a great favour, mademoiselle?’

Madeleine knew what it would be. That wretched business of pawning the dresses changed things, and now he sees me only as a source of ready money, she thought. Right—if that’s how it’s going to be, I’ll make sure I find out what I want to know first.

‘Only if you give me a straight answer to a straight question. Yes or no.’

He sighed, and picked at a stray thread on his cuff.

‘Very well.’

‘Was it Kitty that...that...?’

Words failed her, and Philip was no help. He remained so still and silent, Madeleine looked up to reassure herself he was still there.

He was. The fine features of his face were set in an expression between embarrassment and dread.

‘Was Kitty the girl that Michael—’

‘Yes,’ he said crisply.

Madeleine cut in again to save them both from further embarrassment. ‘I realised when Jack told me how close Michael and Kitty were, although I didn’t say anything about—the other business,’ she said quickly, seeing his alarm.

‘Good,’ Philip breathed in relief. ‘Jack knows no more than anyone else—that Michael left suddenly, and Kitty was so heartbroken that she was sent around Europe to recover. The night of the sub in Paris, I learned from Kitty that she and Michael had arranged his disappearance between them. They left England separately, then met up again later.’

‘Then you’ll know where to find your brother!’

‘No. He and Kitty argued recently, and parted. She doesn’t know where he is,’ Philip said dully. ‘Kitty was my last hope. After all the money Father spent, and all the advertisements we’ve placed, he’s still determined not to be found—oh, why is it so easy for Michael to disappear and so impossible for me to do the same?’

‘Because you’ve got your mother to think of, and Willowbury, that’s why. Not to mention finding enough money to fend off Pickersgill and Pettigrew.’

Adamson sighed, digging his hands into his empty pockets. ‘If only Michael would come back, everything would be all right. Pettigrew’s so keen to get his hands on some decent pasture that he’s offered to accept some Willowbury land in settlement of his part of my debt. I can’t let him take it without Michael’s agreement, that’s the tragedy.’

Everything rested on finding Michael. Madeleine was convinced she could do it. All she needed was enough information to corner Kitty. She pinned all her hopes on an indelicate enquiry.

‘Did—did Miss Kitty have the child, sir?’

Unsettled, Philip paced back and forth in front of her before replying.

‘It is being cared for by a relative abroad,’ he said briskly, without looking at her.

At once Madeleine was fired with enthusiasm, and couldn’t understand why he was still looking so distracted. ‘Jack said that your brother was devoted to Kitty—he wanted to marry her, after all, and it was only when your father refused permission that they went to you, out of desperation! Mark my words—Kitty will have a good idea where your Michael is, even now. If he didn’t desert her at the time, then he certainly won’t have forsaken his baby.’

‘You forget, mademoiselle. Michael wanted me to dispose of the child.’ Philip’s eyes were filled with pain at the memory of that day. ‘He is lost to us, Kitty has been ruined and I am left with Willowbury.’

He looked desolate, then faintly annoyed as Madeleine refused to show any sympathy.

‘There are worse places to suffer than here, Master Philip. As for Miss Kitty—well, there’s no point in grieving over mistakes that have already been made, is there? She doesn’t seem to!’ Madeleine sat down on the sofa and looked up at him innocently. ‘Now, you were going to ask me a favour?’

‘Not so much a favour, mademoiselle.’ He moved uncomfortably, shifting his weight from foot to foot. ‘I was wondering—would you mind very much—would it inconvenience you to leave Willowbury...?’

‘What?’

‘I would make sure you were well provided for, of course—’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Madeleine raised her voice in annoyance, but lowered it hastily at a frantic gesture from Philip. ‘This is Pickersgill’s doing, isn’t it?’

‘If word of my indiscretion gets out, mademoiselle, your reputation will be worth nothing! Sir Edwin knows everything. Bella gave him the details, and he’s the sort of man who wouldn’t be afraid to use them.’

‘Yes. That’s what I thought when he told me.’

Philip was startled, his grey eyes showing distinct alarm. ‘He approached you? You should have told me immediately!’

‘There didn’t seem much point.’

‘What about your reputation? Don’t you have even the smallest shred of concern? I find that...incomprehensible!’

‘Master Philip, talk is cheap. I’ve met Pickersgill’s type before—plenty of times. He says he’ll tell everyone about...’ Here Madeleine paused, seeing Philip’s dismay grow at the thought of reliving the scene. She changed her words hurriedly. ‘He says he’ll tell everyone what he knows. He won’t, and I’ll tell you why. If he did that, what power would he have over you then?’

‘Only a debt of two hundred and fifty pounds, and the guilt of having ruined the reputation of an innocent party. After what Michael’s done, that’s fast becoming a family tradition,’ he added wryly.

‘Look, Master Philip—I’m happy here, and I’ve had no complaints from your mother. I’m here to work. Nothing else. Unless you’re prepared to throw me out bodily, I’ll only leave Willowbury when Pickersgill spills the beans, and not before. In the meantime, things might start to look up.’

‘They could hardly get any worse.’

Madeleine stood up. Going to the nearest bookshelf, she took out a volume and handed it to Philip.

‘Here. I thought we were supposed to be busy?’

With a smile he stepped forward and accepted the book. ‘You’re right, mademoiselle. There’s no comfort in words. I might as well concentrate on cataloguing these, to see if I can bear to part with any.’

Madeleine looked at him quizzically.

‘That’s right, mademoiselle. If you’re willing to sell your own clothes and even sacrifice your reputation by staying here, the least I can do is try and raise the money to buy my creditors off. That might mollify Pickersgill a little, and make him less likely to speak out.’

He looked deeply troubled, and Madeleine fought the impulse to hug him back to life. Instead, she submitted to his instructions for cataloguing the books, then settled to her own thoughts.

Somehow, she had to find Michael Adamson and persuade him back to Willowbury. Then Philip would be happy, and everything would be all right.

Madeleine sighed as she bent to her work. Things wouldn’t be all right at all. She was beginning to realise that finding Michael would mean losing Philip. He would be freed from the drudgery of Willowbury—free to carry on his studies and to court a nice, respectable girl like Leonora Wright.

The last thing he would want to do was the only thing Madeleine needed.

She wanted him to love her.

As they worked, Philip explained his plan for making amends to the Pettigrews after their disastrous party.
        The county ball was soon to be held. Although Albert Pettigrew had been told all the tickets were gone, in reality there were still plenty to be had. Philip intended giving the Pettigrews a trio of tickets.

Madeleine wondered why. As a creditor, Albert Pettigrew looked less trouble than Sir Edwin Pickersgill. Pettigrew went in awe of all the county folk, which only made them scorn him. His only threat lay in his endless, blustering chatter. News of Philip’s debt might slip out unintentionally in front of Mistress Constance.

Sir Edwin Pickersgill was a more malevolent threat. From the little Philip confided to her about that side of things, Madeleine guessed Sir Edwin was a more typical lender, glorying in the power he held over the unfortunates who sought his help. He enjoyed being in control.

At the thought of attending another gathering where both Pettigrew and Pickersgill were present, Madeleine’s heart sank. Her Philip had more than enough to worry about without having to spend time in the company of those two.

At first Madeleine refused Mistress Constance’s offer of a new dress for the occasion. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have more than enough clothes, most of which looked brand new. There was also the thorny problem of starting another account at the dressmakers. However, Mistress Constance seemed so downcast that the event of the year didn’t seem to warrant a new dress, Madeleine eventually gave in.

The following days were divided between dairy work and shopping for her new outfit.

Madeleine thought that, on the whole, she preferred the dairy work.

First of all the material, decorations and accessories had to be chosen. Madeleine was speechless with delight at the array of fabrics set before them in the first draper’s shop. She would have settled for any or all of the display, but Mistress Constance was more particular.

Madeleine soon knew the details of every specialist shop in Bath. Intimately.

‘You look tired, mademoiselle,’ Philip remarked as she unpinned her bonnet in the hall of Willowbury some days later. They had met—as usual—by accident, but he seemed in no tearing hurry to get away this time.

Madeleine sighed. ‘Another fruitless morning’s shopping. Master Philip, what can I say to convince your mother that when I say I like a thing, I’m telling the truth?’

‘Then the delay is through no fault of yours, mademoiselle?’ He raised one dark eyebrow quizzically. His expression was one of wonderment, and placed Madeleine in an awkward position. She could hardly confide her hatred of dragging around shops to no purpose for fear of seeming ungrateful.

‘The fact of the matter is, sir, that nothing I choose seems to meet with your mother’s approval!’

He had been standing at the library door but now moved forward to take her bonnet as she removed it. He held the bonnet lightly, turning it about as though it were made of some precious material rather than plain bleached straw.

‘Your mistake is in taking my mother too literally, mademoiselle. You are not the person who is choosing, whatever Mother may say. I have had this trouble over and over in the past—it is far easier to let Mother sort you out something herself. Pretend that you were about to pick exactly the thing she has chosen and your troubles are over!’

A strange light came into his grey eyes. A smile tinged their usual thoughtfulness, then he looked down at the Turkey rug.

‘Perhaps if I were to accompany you on one of your shopping forays, rather than Mother, your choice would be more quickly made, mademoiselle.’

‘Certainly not, Philip!’ Mistress Constance bundled into the hall surrounded by the usual adoring crowd of dogs. ‘You, choosing what Madeleine should wear? I could never even consider it! Come into town with us tomorrow by all means—heaven alone knows you’ll need something new to wear, too—but you certainly aren’t going to impose your dowdy taste on Madeleine!’

She laughed and took the dogs away, to Madeleine’s relief. Uncertain whether to reclaim her bonnet or wait for Philip to hand it back, she slipped off her cloak, hoping that would spur him into action. At once he reached out and took it, placing both cloak and bonnet down on one of the hall chairs.

Something about his uncomfortable manner made Madeleine realise he had more to say. Instead of going straight to her room to change, Madeleine waited patiently for him to decide how to say it.

When he had quite finished arranging her cloak across the seat, clearing his throat, brushing down his jacket and straightening his sleeves, he spoke suddenly.

‘I’ve had the spinet brought down to the library, mademoiselle. Perhaps you might do me the honour of accompanying me in a duet at some time? I know what I said at the Pettigrews, but that was to spare you an ordeal. In truth I should like to hear you play.’

Madeleine took a step backwards in surprise. Mistress Constance had warned her about men who suggested such wicked things. The closeness of duet-playing gave the wrong sort of chap every opportunity to nudge, brush and press his attentions on a girl who might be innocently drawn into much more complicated play.

Madeleine cursed the fact she wasn’t musical.

Why did this sudden revival of passion have to take such an inconvenient turn?

She wasn’t foolish enough to imagine he wanted her company for its own sake. That had all ended when she gave him money and offended his pride. Madeleine knew there must be a far less innocent side to this request. Of the two women in his life that she was aware of, Miss Leonora was far too innocent to be compromised, and Kitty had learned a bitter lesson in the past. If she’s got any sense, Madeleine thought, Kitty won’t get into cosy situations with anybody again until a wedding-ring is safely on her finger.

No, I’m the only one who’s likely to be good to him in that way, Madeleine thought. The worst thing was, she had often fancied herself in just such a wicked situation with young Mr Adamson. However, if it now suited him to forget his worries over her good reputation, Madeleine could be just as changeable.

‘There’s no need to reduce yourself to that level, sir,’ she said primly. ‘I certainly don’t intend to. Come into town with us tomorrow. You’re bound to find some outlet for your excess energy, even if it’s only riding around the park!’