Lady In Waiting (28 page)

Meredith grinned back at her. "Very well. She was asking a number of questions about a woman named Olivia Burnett."

Jenny felt her eyes widen, and when they did, Meredith paused.

"You
do
know her," Meredith charged. "I knew it!"

"No, I do not. But I know
of
her." Jenny exhaled and looked back at Meredith. "She was Lord Argyll's mother."

"His mother?" Now Meredith looked astounded. No, no, that doesn't make sense."

Jenny reached across the slate hearth and took Meredith's hand. "Why not?"

214

Meredith's face screwed up as if she were straining to carry a heavy parcel. "The widow was saying something about this Olivia Burnett woman being a relation of my aunts. A
very close
relation."

She released Meredith's hand then and sat upright. "When you say
very close
..."

"You needn't ask. I don't know what she meant. But Aunt Letitia got roiling angry and told the widow she ought to get her facts straight before she dared make such accusations again."

"Really?" Jenny leaned near, and widened her eyes. "What happened next?"

"I don't know. Edgar walked into the room behind me, an
d
. . . well, he gave me that look of his. You know, the one that sets your knees to quaking
.
"

"Oh, I know it all too well."

"So, I had no choice. I had to leave." Meredith's eyes grew round and her pupils expanded, until the blue surrounding them was little more than a thin ring of vibrant color. "Do you suppose my aunts are hiding something important? A horrible secret maybe, or the locking key to a mystery, mayhap? Wouldn't that be ter
ri
bly exciting?"

"I haven't a notion what is afoot." Jenny rose slowly, walked to the window, and peered outside toward the widow's house. "But something is not being said. Of that I am all too sure."

******************

That night, Jenny forced herself to remain awake in her bed until she heard the front door close and the

215

sound of footsteps and cane knocks on the marble entry floor.

Lifting the hem of her shift, she padded across the cold floor and crept up the servants' steps so she could watch and listen through the back passage door, which she had purposely left ajar before heading to bed.

"Do you suppose she told him anything before we arrived?" Lady Viola was asking as she handed a weary-looking Edgar her wrap.

"There was no time. Besides, would he have been so gentlemanly and civil to us if he knew the truth?" Lady Letitia asked.

"I suppose not."

"Well, on the morrow, I'll send a few coins over with that scullery maid, Er
m
a. She's a crafty one, and if anyone can buy us a spy among the widow's ranks, it will be she."

"Oh, Letitia, not a spy."

"I fear there is no other way. We must know if Argyll has been enticed over to Lady McCarthy's residence
a
gai
n
—
t
his time preferably
before
he arrives."

"Of course you are right
,
Sister."

On the other side of the door, Jenny sat down on the wood-p
l
anked floor and wrapped her arms around her Knees for warmth. What was all of this about? She was
aching
to know. And blast it all, those old ladies should confide in her. For if it concerned Callu
m
it also concerned her ... what with she possibly being the mother of his child and all.

Well, in the morning she might ply the scullery maids with a few bob as well. Yes, she'd have her own spy at
the
McCarthy residence.

216

Just then, the door edged open. Jenny's head shot up and met the angry gaze of Mr. Edgar.

"Shouldn't you be abe
d
. ..
my lady!
You have an early morning tomorrow, if you've not forgotten."

"Uh . . . yes, Mr. Edgar. I haven't forgotten." Jen
n
y stood up and scampered down the stairs. But with all this hullabaloo concerning Callu
m
, she
had
completely forgotten.

Bloody hell.

She had to try to get some sleep. There was so much to do in the morning. Lud, she had sleeves to attach to Meredith's gown and yards of satin skirt yet to hem.

For tomorrow was Miss Meredith's eighteenth birthday.

******************

"Morning, dove ..." sang her mother from the darkness. "Time to wake. Lots to do this morn. Up, up, up!"

Jenny groaned and covered her head with her feather pillow as her mother lit the stub of a candle at her bedside to break the darkness.

"Still no visit from
your friend
?”
her mother asked sweetly.

"No,
Mother," she murmured from beneath the pillow.

"What was that, dear?"

Jenny yanked the pillow from her head, causing her hair to stand on end from the friction. She scowled up at her mother's smiling face.
“No."

"That's fine, dear. You shouldn't worry about it. I've learned that worry might delay visits at times."

"Please, Mother, do stop asking me about this every

                                                
217

morn. I do not
feel
as though I am with child. I haven't lost my breakfast even once, and I am as strong as a chairman. Does that satisfy you?"

"Oh, of course, darling. Whatever you say," she said
s
oftly in a placating manner that made Jenny's blood
s
putter and bubble hotly as tingle cream over the fire.

"But if you
are
with child, remember, Lord Argyll did say he would offer for you."

"Not you too?" Jenny pressed the pillow atop her face and screamed into it. Then she sat straight up in her bed, letting the pillow fall to her lap. "Are the ladies awake yet?"

"Goodness no. ''Tis still dark."

"What abou
t
. . . Er
m
a? Is she about?" Jenny asked casually.

"Indeed, tending the fires in the kitchen just now." Then her mother's left eye began to narrow. "I hope you haven't got any idea about getting her to help you with the cream this morn. Like the rest of us, she has work to d
o
—
a
nd so do you, my clever miss."

"Oh, I would not dream of potting any cream today, not with it being Meredith's birthday. I just wanted to have a word with Erma, that's all."

Jenny pulled open her bedside drawer, palmed two gleaming guineas, one for each surly scullery maid, then pecked her mother's cheek and hurried into the kitchen.

******************

That eve, the Featherton house glowed like a lantern,
w
ith nigh on eight score beeswax candles lit, some in
sc
onces, others hoisted to the ceiling in sparkling crystal

218

chandeliers, to help make Meredith's birthday rout bright as it could be.

"I can't bear this," Jenny complained as she laced Meredith into a horrid black evening gown.

Jenny could not abide black bombazine. She didn't care if it was all the crack. It looked awful. She opened Meredith's tiny jewel box and withdrew a pair of ear pendants of deepest jet. And while her mistress attached these to her ears, Jenny swept up her curly red locks in a bandeaux, allowing several tendrils to fall prettily about her face.

"You do realize," Jenny began as she tossed black silk gloves to Meredith, "the eye is naturally drawn to color. Though I know you, like all of England, grieve the death of our princess, can't you forgo swathing yourself in ebony? It is your birthday after all. ''Tis a time for celebration, not mourning. Other ladies will certainly wear lively color this eve, and I do not believe you would wish to remain unnoticed."

"You are wrong about that. I
do
wish to remain unnoticed, so that I may observe the rogues and rakes in action."

Jenny's mouth fell agape. "But it's
your
rout. Please do not spend it spying ... I mean
observing
others."

Meredith chuckled. "While I do enjoy spying from time to time, tonight I am conducting research for my guidebook for ladies. I might even try a few socia
l
. . .
experiments."
The edge of Meredith's pink lips lifted mischievously.

Jenny rolled her eyes. Meredith's plans were not her concern, but rather the Featherton ladies' problem. She, after all, had to prepare for the rout herself. "There you are. You look stunnin
g
—
d
espite your color choice."

219

And she did. With her creamy ivory skin, startling blue eyes, and brilliant copper hair, Meredith had been blessed with enough natural color to balance the solemn weight of the wretched ebony gown.

"Oh, Jenny. It's just a small rout. I swear I'll don the emerald gown for my birthday ball next week." Meredith pulled a few more tendrils of hair from the bandeaux. "While tonight will be utterly dreary, I own that the ball will be wickedly exciting."

Jenny had started from the chamber, but turned around. "How shall this ball be any different from others?"

"Oh, then you've not heard!" Meredith rushed to Jenny and grabbed up her hands. "My aunts wanted to share my celebration with the world . . . and I daresay garner a little attention for themselves. My sisters, you see, are both too far along in their confinements to travel to Bath for my ball. So, my aunts, thinking I would be greatly saddened by my sisters' absences, distributed a public invitation to
all
of elevated Bath. Staid old matrons and horse-faced daughters won't be the only guests ringing the floor at my ball. But people we've never met before. Rogues,
viscounts .
. ." Meredith winked at Jenny. "Maybe even the mysterious
t
hieves
!
 
Won't it be exciting? La, I simply cannot wait!"

Jenny could not believe what she was hearing. If the Feathertons had truly issued a public invitation, of course the thieves, and their likely ringleader, Hercule Le
strange, would attend. Every member of the
ton
would be at risk of being bludgeoned and robbed.

Jenny sucked her lower lip into her mouth and bit into its soft flesh. "The thieves might well attend." She

220

looked into Meredith's glittering eyes. "Therefore you should wear paste jewels, nothing more."

"I agree, but you will never convince my aunties. They love their baubles too much to miss a chance to wear them," Meredith said. "Now, you'd better go and dress. Take care to look your best this eve," she called out as Jenny strolled down the passage. "I saw Lord Argyll's name inked on the rout's guest list."

******************

Every crystal bob, dripping like ice from the chandelier in the Feathertons' drawing room, glowed as if lit from within, Jenny noted as she entered the room.

The gold damask silk on the walls reflected the light and warmed the wan complexions of matrons, while gilding the rosy countenances of those of fewer years.

Jenny smiled to herself, for her opulent ivory gown drank in the flickering light. She looked luminous and she well knew it.

At once her eyes swept the room for Callu
m
. It was yet early in the eve, but she had hoped to see him by now. Butterflies tumbled inside her stomach and her skin tingled in nervous anticipation. Somehow, if only she might speak with him privately, Jenny knew she could bridge the gulf that had opened between them. She had to. Her heart would have it no other way.

"You look right fine this night, Jenny. Delicious in fact," buzzed a hoarse whisper near her ear. "Good enough to eat."

She looked up to see George, one of the footmen, standing beside her with a sterling salver of crystal

221

glasses
filled with amber sherry. Jenny reached out and lifted a small glass from the tray, not bothering to reply.

A bloody rake in footman's garb, he was. Why, Meredith's guidebook could devote an entire chapter to George alone.

"Later, though, I suppose," he added, raising a brow as if he truly thought she'd take a roll with him.

"Thank you for the sherry, George," she murmured, then walked across the drawing room to the marble mantel. As she waited for Callu
m
, Jenny turned her body three-quarters to the roo
m
—
f
or it was important her gown catch the light properl
y
—
w
hile she nervously fingered the plumed hat of the Chelsea f
i
gural candlestick.