Elizabeth Mansfield (21 page)

Finally, Miss Townley took matters into her own hands. One frigid evening, when dinner was over and Pippa had gone up to bed, Miss Townley sought the footman out in the servants’ dining room. “Her ladyship’d like to see you, Thomas,” she said mendaciously. “She’s in the sittin’ room.”

But Camilla was not expecting to see anyone. She had settled into a comfortable easy chair with a copy of Maria Edgeworth’s novel,
Castle Rackrent
, which Georgina had given her. She’d taken off her shoes and was toasting her toes on the hearth, completely engrossed in the romantic tale with its unusual Irish setting, when the tap on her door distracted her. “Come in,” she called, scarcely looking up.

“You wished to see me, ma’am,” he asked.

She snatched her feet from the hearth. “I?”

“Yes, ma’am. Miss Townley said—”

“Oh,
did
she?” Camilla colored to her ears and tried to tuck her stockinged feet under her. “Then I suppose … yes, well, come in and … er … close the door, Thomas.”

He did so with perfect, footmanlike precision and then stood erect at her elbow. She noticed with wry amusement that now, when it didn’t matter, he was beginning to master the techniques of inaudible, invisible service. She cast him a sidelong glance, rubbed her forehead with nervous fingers, and sighed deeply. “I have something to ask of you, Thomas … a most enormous favor …”

“Yes, my lady?”

She hesitated. “Dash it all, I can’t explain this to you while you’re standing over me in that stiff, impersonal way. Do sit down.”

“
Sit down
, ma’am? You can’t mean it. Is this some sort of test of my sense of decorum? If there’s anything I’ve learned since I’ve been in your service, it’s that I must
not
sit down in the presence of my mistress.”

“Yes, but I wish to ignore the rules this once.
Please
sit down.”

“Very well, ma’am, but if Mr. Hicks should come in and see me, I hope you will explain to him that I’m doing it only in obedience to your orders.”

“Good heavens, but you’ve become a stickler. Or else you’re roasting me with decidedly malicious enjoyment. Are you going to sit down or not?”

“Where would you like me to sit, ma’am? On the floor at your feet?”

She glared at him. “Now I know you’re roasting me. Sit down anywhere you like, and keep your barbs to yourself.”

He sat down on the hearth before her and, with a kind of natural grace, stretched one long leg out before him. She couldn’t help but notice how well it was shaped, for the tight breeches of his livery and the knit stockings revealed every curve and swell. She smiled to herself, remembering her conversation with the tradesman who’d sold her the servants’ uniforms and liveries. He’d tried to sell her some special pads which, he explained, all the footmen in the great houses put in their stockings to make their
calves appear well-developed. “Ye wouldn’t want yer footmen to ’ave legs like sticks, would ye, me lady?” he’d asked. She’d responded that sticks would suit her well enough so long as the owner could walk on them. It was just as well she hadn’t bought those pads. Thomas certainly had no need of them.

“Does this place suit you, ma’am?” Thomas asked from the hearth.

“Yes, that’s fine.” But it was not really fine, for his back was to the fire, and she had difficulty seeing his face. However, she didn’t see how she could comfortably ask him to change his place after she’d given him free choice. “I asked to see you, Thomas, because I … I …” Her courage failed her. “How’s your nose these days?” she asked, switching the subject abruptly.

“It’s healed, ma’am. No pain any more. Just this funny little knob on the bridge.”

“And your wrist? Is it badly scarred?”

“No, my lady, it’s not. And since I assume you didn’t request my presence just to ask about my health, I’ll save you the trouble of making further polite inquiry by telling you that the rest of my anatomy is in equally satisfactory condition.”

She glared at him. “I sometimes wonder, Thomas, if your doctor in Derbyshire really died. He isn’t dead at all, is he? If I wrote to him, I suspect I’d learn that he drove you out without a recommendation, because of your saucy tongue. It’s hard for me to believe that your brazen wit hadn’t landed you in trouble long before I came into contact with it.”

“No one ever said, ma’am, that my tongue didn’t land me in hot water before my meeting with you. It’s gotten me into difficulty more times than I care to remember.”

“Then one would think a person of your sense should have learned, by this time, to curb it.”

“Yes, one would think so, wouldn’t one?” He grinned up at her unabashed. “The answer must be that I’m not as sensible as you think. But about that favor you wished to ask of me …”

“Favor? Oh … yes.” She closed the book on her lap and fiddled nervously with its ribbon, a device which should have been used to mark her place. “This is a very awkward subject to have to discuss with you, Thomas, and I don’t know quite how to begin. It … concerns my … er … marital state.”

“Yes?”

She wished desperately that she could get a better look at his face. Were his eyes mocking her? “I am, as you know, a widow, and my late husband’s sister has taken it into her head that I should remarry.” She paused awkwardly, wondering just how to phrase her synopsis of the whole, unpleasant situation, especially the humiliating request she had to make of him.

“You’re surely not asking if I concur with your sister-in-law’s suggestion, are you?”

“No, of course not! What an arrogant idea!”

“Then you probably want to know which of the current candidates I would recommend, is that it?”

She gasped in outrage. “
What
current candidates?”

“Lord Earlywine and Sir James. If you ask me, neither one is worth a second look.”

“I was
not
asking you! How dare you assume that I would consult you on such a matter!”

“Were you not? I beg your pardon, ma’am. Then what
did
you wish to consult me about?”

“I didn’t wish to ‘consult’ you at all! I only wished to … to …”

“To ask me a favor. An
enormous
favor, I think you said.”

She could sense, even if she couldn’t quite see his expression, that he was enjoying—even savoring—her awkwardness. She was most disconcertingly aware how easily he could put her at a disadvantage whenever they conversed, yet she never knew where she’d gone wrong or what she’d done amiss. And now that she was beholden to him for saving her daughter’s life, she couldn’t even
dismiss
the fellow. The situation was truly impossible. And if she compounded her errors by asking him to masquerade as her husband, wouldn’t matters be even
worse
when the masquerade was over? The answer was plainly
affirmative … if she had a grain of sense she would
not
go through with this.

As if he were reading her mind, Thomas said quietly, “You needn’t hesitate to ask me, you know, ma’am. There’s very little I wouldn’t do for you.”

Those soft-spoken words completely overturned her resolve. “I … er … thank you, Thomas, that was kind.” She shook her head in confusion. “I don’t know how you always manage to be both arrogant and kind at once.”

“If I’m arrogant, ma’am,” he said in a voice that was suddenly serious, “it’s only to remind the world from time to time that behind the livery there’s a living human being.”

“In your case, Thomas, the world is not likely to forget it.” She paused, twisting the little ribbon tightly around her fingers. “But to return to the subject of the favor …”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I did a rather foolish thing, you see. In order to put my sister-in-law off from her matchmaking, I … I told her a dreadful lie. And now she intends to visit here, and I am forced to … make that lie appear to be true by staging a … a rather elaborate masquerade. And for that I need your help.”

“What sort of help?”

“I need you to … to play a major role in the masquerade.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite follow, ma’am. What was that ‘dreadful lie’?”

Camilla felt her cheeks grow hot. “It’s most awkward to have to reveal it to you. What I told my sister-in-law was … was …”

“Since it’s so difficult for you to speak of, perhaps I can guess. You told her you’d contracted a fatal disease, and you want me to play the part of a physician to convince her that you have less than a year to live.”

A nervous little laugh escaped her. “That’s very ingenious, Thomas, but—”

“No? Then let me try again. You wrote her that you’d discovered in your family a ne’er-do-well relation—a brother, perhaps—who had so sullied the family name that no gentleman of respectability would marry you. And I’m to play the black sheep.”

“I can see that you can invent much better lies than I. I should have consulted you before I first wrote to Lady Ethelyn.”

“Do you mean that I’m wrong again? Well, I’ve run out of ideas. I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me the tale yourself.”

She took a faltering breath. “You’ll have to understand, Thomas, that it started as a lark. A little private joke that I never dreamed would come to this. I wrote my sister that … that …”

“That you’d already remarried.”

She gaped at him in relief. “Yes, that’s
it
! However did you—” Her eager smile abruptly died, however, as a sharp perception of the truth burst upon her. “You
knew
! You knew all along!”

He laughed, a long, deep-throated, taunting laugh. “Miss Pippa told me days ago.”

She jumped up from her chair in a rage. “And you let me go on … stammering and stuttering like an idiotic schoolgirl!” She heaved her book at him, but he shied away in time. “Why, you … you … !”

“Bounder? Jackanapes? Make-bait? Muckworm? Dastard?” he supplied, laughing.

“All of them! Get out of my sight! I don’t want to exchange another word with you!”

“Yes, ma’am.” He got to his feet and backed to the door, the grin still wide on his face. “But don’t you want to know if I’m willing to participate in your masquerade?”

“No, I don’t.” She turned her back on him. “I don’t care whether you’re willing or not. In fact, I don’t care ever to speak to you again—or to my daughter either.”

“Yes, ma’am. Then I’ll just say goodnight.”

She didn’t turn until she heard him open the door. “Well,
will
you?” she asked, turning slowly, her head proudly erect.

“Play the role in your masquerade?” His broad grin had become a small half-smile, and his eyes held a warmth that made something in her chest clench. “I may have been deceitful in much of what I said tonight, my lady, but this one thing you may believe with absolute certainty: there’s no role in the world I’d rather play than that of your husband.”

Ethelyn’s letter had specified that her visit would last no longer than three days, “that length of time being the outward extent of my ability to exist in the atmosphere of filth and decadence which London generates.” Since the visit was to be so short (the only blessing in this troublesome situation), Camilla decided that it would be unnecessary to take anyone outside the household into her confidence. She might tell Georgie, of course, when they had a moment of private conversation, but the wisest course seemed to be to tell as few people as possible. If, during those three days, Hicks informed all callers that his mistress was not at home, none of Camilla’s friends would encounter her in the company of her counterfeit husband, and thus she could avoid embarrassing explanations later.

As for the household staff, only Hicks, Miss Townley and Thomas were to know the whole truth. Hicks, as soon as he understood the circumstances, called the staff together and explained to them that Lady Wyckfield was going to play a joke on her sister-in-law by passing the footman off as her husband. “It will be only for a short time, and she’s asked that you all try your very best not to give the game away. As soon as the joke is over, Thomas will return to his post, and everything will go on as before.”

Hicks was also assigned the task of escorting Thomas to Bond Street to see that he was appropriately outfitted. He was measured for three waistcoats, two coats, trousers, breeches, linens, a complete ensemble for dinner wear, two pairs of boots and a pair of evening shoes. The question of a riding costume—at which Thomas balked, claiming that he was too awkward a horseman to pass as a gentleman in that setting—was discussed among the members of the full committee (Camilla, Miss Townley, Pippa and Hicks), who concluded that activities out of doors would be discouraged for the three days of the Falcombes’ visit; and if Oswald or Ethelyn insisted on venturing out, Thomas would make some excuse and avoid the outing.

Tom had agreed to the ruse with gleeful nonchalance, but he soon learned that he’d accepted an awesome responsibility. There was a great deal for him to learn in order to be successful at the role. First, Camilla charted an entire family tree for him to memorize. “My sister-in-law is bound to question you about your family, and you must be familiar with your ancestry in every particular,” she explained, showing him the long line of descent which she had carefully worked out to avoid any possible connection with the Petershams of Lincolnshire, with whom Ethelyn had indicated a familiarity.

Then he was given a comprehensive course in deportment by Miss Townley. Every day, at a pre-assigned hour, she met with him and drilled him in manners, particularly in rituals of behavior at the table. She reviewed the use of the fork, she taught him how to carve a roast, how to make a toast and how to converse with comfort with the lady on his right. “That will be Lady Ethelyn herself, you know, my lad. The host’s right is the place of honor. Lord Falcombe will sit at Miss Camilla’s right, and she’ll attend to
him
. But he’s easy goin’. It’s
you
who’ll have the hard part.”

Thomas groaned. All this was much more than he’d bargained for. His head was swimming with the tedious minutiae of his role, and he began to fear that he’d make some hideous error and spoil everything for his lady. At first the task had seemed to be a great lark—a way to engage in flirtatious
badinage, as well as a chance to live for a time the enviable life of a member of the upper classes. But he began to see that the style of life was not so very enviable. It began to seem trivial and dull. He couldn’t envy the gentlemanly classes if all they had to keep in their heads were inanities like the proper method of introducing an older lady to a younger one.