Evelyn Richardson (7 page)

Blast! Catherine set down the cup of tea that Lucy had brought her and picked up the latest edition of the
Edinburgh Review
. She refused to let the past overwhelm her. What was done was done, and if Lord Lucian Verney had chosen to run off with an actress rather than pay court to Lady Catherine Montague, well, that was his affair, and she was not going to waste one more moment’s thought on it or on the question of who, if anyone, had become the new Marchioness of Charlmont. All she needed to know at present was that the marquess’s niece was soon to become a pupil at Lady Catherine Granville’s Academy and if she were happy there, everyone in the Upper Ten Thousand would be clamoring to send their daughters, nieces, sisters, and granddaughters to that select educational establishment.

As for the Marquess of Charlmont, he was gone, back to Charlmont or wherever he had come from. And with any luck, she would never see him again. The niece would arrive in the family carriage with her maid and possibly her mother as a companion. The bills and correspondence would all be handled by the new marquess’s man of business and Catherine would very likely not have any further contact with him. So why did she not feel relief at this prospect? She should be happy and proud that she had faced a ghost from her past and had survived with dignity intact. Instead she merely felt dull and dispirited.

“Will Madam be requiring anything else?”

“What? Oh, no, thank you.” Catherine shook her head groggily. She had been so lost in her own thoughts that she had completely forgotten Lucy hovering at her elbow.

“Very good, Madam.” Lucy gave a final poke to the fire and then, closing the door silently behind her, left her mistress alone with her thoughts.

And those thoughts appeared to be more upsetting than usual. Lucy had watched sympathetically as one by one her mistress’s responsibilities had been stripped away and the small indignities had piled up.

First, the servants had been ordered to refer any command, even the simplest of requests for the stoking of a fire or the saddling of a horse to his lordship. Then had followed the abrupt dismissal of anyone, from the butler to the lowest scullery maid, who had been inclined to look favorably on their former mistress or refer to the way things had been done under her tenure. Finally, there had been her removal to the dower house, with every stick of furniture begrudgingly bestowed. And through it all Lady Catherine had maintained an air of aloof dignity that only those who knew her best could penetrate enough to see the hurt and outrage seething just below the calm, collected surface.

But this evening Lucy sensed that there was more to her mistress’s mood than yet another outrage perpetrated by the grasping ‘Ugolino’ as Lady Catherine had dubbed him in a moment of particular frustration with the man who, bit by bit, was destroying all the trust, all the respect, and all the good that she and her husband had carefully built up over the years.

No, there had been a wistful note in her ladyship’s voice as she had dismissed her maid, a hint of regret, almost sadness, in her eyes as she had gazed into the fire. While it was true that Lord Granville made Lady Catherine angry on a continual basis, he had never made her sad. He was far too despicable a creature to affect her that way. So if it was not Lord Granville who was upsetting Lucy’s mistress, then who or what was it?

Eschewing the warmth and companionship of the kitchen where Cook was busy preparing her ladyship’s supper, Lucy climbed the stairs to her own room under the eaves and picked up her basket of mending. It was chillier here than in the kitchen, but it was quiet, and Lucy wanted to be alone to sort out her thoughts.

During the entire time following the shock of Lord Granville’s sudden death, the precipitous descent of the new heir and his wife into their lives, the unexpected inheritance of her great-aunt’s fortune, and the subsequent establishment of Lady Catherine Granville’s Select Academy for Genteel Young Ladies, Lady Catherine had moved toward her goals with an energy and a purposefulness that, even for someone as vital and dynamic as she, had been remarkable. Why now should she suddenly look so weary and disoriented? Why now, when she had withstood so much, should she appear more worn out, more grave and thoughtful than ever?

Lucy was almost as determined a young woman as her mistress, and at the moment, she was determined to find out what was bothering Lady Catherine. Born into a large family of ne’er-do-wells, Lucy had always had her mind set on bettering herself, and at a tender age had, with great audacity, convinced the cook at Granville Park to take her on as a scullery maid. Lucy’s willingness to do any task asked of her and her quiet, cheerful efficiency had quickly endeared her to everyone in the kitchen and she had soon been promoted to kitchenmaid. She had even impressed the housekeeper to such a degree that when one of the chambermaids left to marry a farmer, Lucy had been asked to take the girl’s place.

Again, her diligence and her willingness to take on any task paid off and she became the chief downstairs maid, where she caught the eye of Granville Park’s young mistress, who had taken a serious interest in the young woman’s ambitions.

And when the time had come for Lady Catherine to move to her new home in the dower house, she had asked Lucy to come with her as a replacement for her own maid, Rose, who was longing to return to her family in Yorkshire. Rose had returned home with sufficient wages to last her a year and recommendations glowing enough to earn her a place in any household, while Lucy, who could not believe that she had reached a status so exalted that it exceeded her wildest dreams, had taken up the duties of maid to her ladyship, vowing to repay Lady Catherine’s kindness with undying gratitude for as long as she drew breath.

It seemed to Lucy as though now might be the moment she had been waiting for to demonstrate this gratitude. Clearly something was upsetting her mistress, something more than a problem at the academy or even Lord Granville’s perfidy; she would have elaborated on any of these, but instead she had been quiet, quieter than usual. There was nothing to do but watch and wait for some clue as to what was troubling Lady Catherine. In the meantime, though, she could at least brighten her mistress’s day with the news that yet another servant had left Lord Granville’s employ and come to beg her former mistress for a job.

Lucy had warned Mary as kindly as she could that the dower house was too small an establishment to need another servant, but the girl had been so distraught that she had promised to let her speak with Lady Catherine herself, knowing full well that her kindhearted mistress would think of some excuse to keep the girl on for a little while at least, until she had managed to find her a position elsewhere.

Neatly snipping a thread, Lucy smiled grimly as she recalled her conversation with Mary. It would be small consolation after being dumped so unceremoniously at the dower house, but Lady Catherine was sure to take comfort from the fact that she was so sorely missed at Granville Park that servants still begged her to find them a position in her household.

But now was not the moment to inform her mistress of the new arrival. Better to let her sort out what was troubling her and then tell her about Mary in the morning. For no matter how tired or dispirited Lady Catherine was, she always seemed to be able to put her troubles behind her and rise the next day filled with renewed energy and purpose.

For Catherine, however, staring unseeing into the fire, energy and purpose and the future were a long way off. At the moment all she could see before her was Lady Almeria Northcote’s victorious smirk one evening ten years ago as she announced the latest scandalous
on dit
. “It is said that Lord Lucian Verney has run off with an actress. Have you ever heard anything so outrageous?”

“Not if she were very pretty.” Catherine had replied calmly enough, but it had taken every ounce of her strength to ignore the dreadful sinking feeling in her stomach and the chill that crept over her as she looked into Almeria’s pale, humorless eyes. Fortunately, her loathing for the prudish, sanctimonious gossip was strong enough to make her forget everything for the moment except her desire to retain her dignity at any cost in front of a young woman who had never lost an opportunity to demonstrate her superior knowledge of the
ton
from the moment Catherine had arrived in London.

Lady Almeria’s pale eyelashes blinked rapidly. “Have care, Lady Catherine. You know very well you have made a fool of yourself in setting your cap at that man, and all your pert responses will only make it look the worse for you. One must be infinitely careful in one’s first Season, for a reputation is a fragile thing. Once shattered, it can never be repaired. You would do well to listen to the wisdom of those of us who have been on the town for more than one Season and know the ways of the fashionable world.”

Catherine gritted her teeth. “But why would I listen to the advice of one who has had several Seasons? Surely, anyone who was truly knowledgeable would be so successful as not to need more than one Season to make a brilliant match.”

“Why you—you brazen little…” Lady Almeria managed to gasp at last. “How dare you speak that way to me when you have only managed to attract the notice of a man who is so dead to propriety that he runs off with an actress and is such a fool that he will probably marry her.”

And to Catherine’s infinite relief, Lady Almeria had turned on her heel and stalked away, leaving her to survive as best she could the anguish that seemed to be squeezing all the blood from her heart.

But she had survived in spite of her absolute conviction that she could not live through the loss of her closest friend and his total betrayal of her trust.

Catherine’s eyes focused at last on the flickering flames in front of her. The searing visions of that awful night receded into that part of her soul that she had thought she had locked away forever. Now she knew she could take those corrosive memories out again, reexamine them in all their pathetic detail, lock them back away, and still survive. Surely this was the last time she would have to do it, for no matter how intriguing and clever Lord Lucian Verney had once thought her, he now found her sadly changed. Had he not hinted as much?

Having selected a fitting educational establishment for his niece, he had no reason to reappear in her life. Undoubtedly he would be glad to shed that particular responsibility so that he could return to his many others, which, if they happened to include a wife and a family of his own, were no concern of Catherine’s.

Chapter Eight

In fact, Catherine’s speculations were entirely incorrect. Far from being eager to shed his responsibilities, Lucian was at that moment increasing them as he informed the Marchioness of Charlmont that he had not only found a suitable place for her daughter, but he also intended to escort her there.

“That is very good of you, Lucian. You have been all that is kind in finding a place for Arabella, but there is no need for further effort on your part. Surely at such a time, a young girl is in need of her mother’s support.” The marchioness, clutching her ever-present handkerchief, dabbed gently at the corner of each eye. “Though I still see no reason for her to go so far away. Surely, if Miss Mitton is as ineffective as you say she is, it is merely a matter of finding another governess, and…” Her voice trailed off helplessly.

“I thought you were concerned about Arabella’s growing friendship with Foxworthy’s son?”

“I am, but Arabella is a good girl and most biddable. It is enough that I point out to her how unsuitable it is for her to encourage him. Do you not think so?”

Lucian, who knew his lively and determined niece far better than her mother did, did not think so, but it was useless to remonstrate. The marchioness was a woman of limited intelligence and even less resolve who saw only what she wished to see.

“Believe me, Arabella is not likely to forget about young Foxworthy when he is intent on capturing a wealthy bride. He is well aware of his good fortune. Such a prize, so close and so ripe for the picking, is not to be sneezed at, and I assure you he is determined to take advantage of his situation.”

“Oh, surely not. Surely he is aware that their difference in station makes such a thing impossible?”

“I am convinced that he thinks nothing of the sort.”

“Oh, dear. Whatever shall we do? Arabella will be most distressed, I am sure.”

“Trust me, Louisa, removing her from his influence is the only answer. Do not worry about it. I assure you that once Arabella has been introduced into the companionship of other girls and the delights of shopping in Bath, she will forget all about young Foxworthy. And the quicker she is introduced to them, the better. I shall be happy to escort her there on Saturday.”

“Saturday! But that is only three days’ time! We can never be ready in three days’ time.”

“You have no need to be ready, as I intend to accompany her.”

“But she must have her mother with her for support.”

Privately, Lucian was certain that Arabella was far more likely to consider her mother a burden than a support, but he smiled reassuringly at the marchioness as he patted her shoulder. “Your concern is only natural, but think of the fatigue of the journey. I shall be returning to London soon at any rate, and Bath is but a stop along the way for me. For you, it would mean not only the journey there, but a night at an inn and the return trip alone without the company of your daughter.”

The marchioness shuddered.

“So you see, your offer, though all that is admirable, is entirely unnecessary, and I promise I shall not leave Bath until I have seen to it that Arabella is safely ensconced at Lady Catherine Granville’s Select Academy for Genteel Young Ladies.”

The marchioness raised swimming eyes and smiled tremulously at her brother-in-law. “Thank you, Lucian. You have been so good. Ever since Herbert left us, I have not known how to go on. I hate to ask yet another favor from one who has already done so much, but I think it would be a great deal better coming from you—the news, I mean.”