Natalya (46 page)

Hyla had gone with Natalya's parents to Connecticut, but the elderly cook's best kitchen maid, Lydia, had remained behind, and she fixed a lovely afternoon meal for the two sisters to share on a little table in the garden. Natalya was bursting to tell Kristin about Grey, but she wanted to wait until the problem of Francesca was behind them. She had even put the other nosegay of violets in water, planning to deliver them when she broke the news to Krissie in the morning.

"The most mysterious thing has happened!" the younger girl exclaimed as she produced an envelope to show her sister. Kristin's name was written on the outside in a flowery scrawl. "Someone has sent me two tickets for tonight's performance of
The Sailor's Return.
This is not Hollis's writing, so I suspect that they are a gift from his aunt, with whom we are dining tomorrow evening. I know you must feel that I am never at home anymore, and I feel terribly rude leaving you each night while Maman and Papa are away, but I hope you will understand...."

"Oh, Krissie," Natalya assured her, "I couldn't be more pleased for you—and Hollis. As it happens, my own life has been rather eventful of late, so I haven't been languishing here in your absence. And nothing could make me happier than knowing that your courtship with Hollis is progressing so well."

"I'll own that I am quite surprised myself, but I feel a sort of warm contentment when we are together. It's nothing like I imagined I would feel...." Kristin smiled shyly and took a sip of lemonade. "I expected to be swept off my feet by someone dashing and handsome, yet this seems more
real
somehow. It's very sweet; a quiet sort of romance, with an understanding between us that deepens each day." After a brief pause, she glanced down at her plate and added, "I must confess, too, that I feel attracted to him now in a way I never would have believed possible. When he touches me and we kiss, it's simply wonderful!"

Natalya beamed. "I don't mean to speak too soon, Krissie, but I believe that Hollis Gladstone is the perfect man for you."

"I think you may be right, Talya. Now, you must tell me what has been happening to you!"

"I—am not free to speak, yet, but tomorrow I should be able to tell you...."

"It's Grey St. James, isn't it?" Kristin crowed. The sight of Natalya's answering blush made her laugh. "You needn't respond; I can see it in your face. How thrilling! But of course, I knew all along how you felt about him."

"How can you say that?" her sister cried in outrage. "You were chasing after him yourself, mooning over him!"

"Oh, I was just having a bit of fun. I was only a child then."

"Krissie, the Hampshires' garden party was only three days ago!" Natalya exclaimed.

Rising gracefully from the table, Kristin replied, with infinite wisdom, "Perhaps, but that is the way of life. Three days ago I was a girl, and now I am transformed."

Natalya would have laughed if she hadn't seen the truth in her sister's words. She herself felt as if she had lived years in the past few days. "Yes, what you say may very well be true. And now, off with you, puss! I'm sure you have a thousand things to do to prepare for your evening at the theater. I, on the other hand, have nothing more to anticipate than a visit from a man who is an admirer of my books. He wrote to me and begged for an audience." She made an uncertain little moue.

"But, is that wise?" Kristin asked, with an air of mature concern. "What if this man is a toad? Papa is gone, and Pierre with him—and the other servants are just boys."

"Charlotte met this fellow in a bookshop and knew of him in England. She insists that he's perfectly respectable; in fact, she could not praise him highly enough. All I have to do is give him tea and write my name in his copy of
My Lady's Heart,
then send him on his way." Seeing that her sister still looked uncertain, Natalya added, "If it will make you feel better, you can meet him yourself before you go out."

* * *

Natalya had hoped that Charlotte might be prevailed upon to serve tea during David Standish's visit, then pop in and out while he was there to lend an air of propriety to the interview. However, when she made this suggestion to Charlotte, the girl began to stutter.

"Oh—well—mistress, I don't think so... that is, I'm not certain—I mean, I'm not feeling well!" She had just finished fastening the back of Natalya's demure white gown with heather ribbons and was reaching for the white lawn tucker that would conceal her bosom. "I've—I've a fierce pain in my belly."

"Oh, my!" Natalya said, looking over her shoulder at Charlotte with a mixture of concern and bewilderment. The girl had always been a bundle of nerves, but today her behavior was exceptionally hectic. "Why aren't you in bed, Charlotte? If you are ill—"

"It's just gotten worse, mistress, during these past minutes."

In truth, Charlotte reflected nervously, she had been given specific instructions by Lady Altburne to stay well out of the way during Mr. Standish's visit to Belle Maison, and she was glad to obey. She had hated to lie to her mistress about everything, especially when she spoke so kindly and was so concerned. But her ladyship had told her it was necessary... and her ladyship had paid her a great deal of money and even promised to take her on later as foremost ladies' maid—and it seemed impossible that her ladyship would lie....

"If you don't mind, then, mistress," Charlotte murmured, "I do believe I'll go and have a little lie-down." Averting her eyes guiltily, she sidled toward the door.

"Charlotte?"

"Yes'm?"

Natalya smiled and said gently, "I do hope you feel better."

Her face flamed. "Oh, I shall. 'Twas doubtless something I ate."

"If you do recover before long... perhaps you might look in on Mr. Standish and me. I'm certain that he is a fine gentleman, but my sister will be out, and I do feel a bit uneasy about being alone with him."

Charlotte nodded, bolted from Natalya's bedchamber, and fairly tumbled down the back stairway to the main floor. As she crossed through the dining room, she heard a knock at the front door and glimpsed, through the window, a carriage in the drive. Kristin Beauvisage, dressed to go out, hurried down the center staircase to open the door, so Charlotte slipped out into the garden. She wanted nothing more than to reach her sunny little room in the servants' quarters behind the kitchen, but a lackey whom she recognized from Lady Altburne's house was coming toward her from the drive.

"Charlotte Timkins?" he inquired in a low voice, glancing around furtively. When she nodded, he produced an envelope from his waistcoat pocket. "Ye're to read this without delay." He seemed to disappear into thin air, and Charlotte felt her heart begin to pound as she stared at the envelope. Clutching it, she ran all the way to her room, nearly tripping en route over a grapevine, which would have sent her face-first into a cluster of rose bushes. At last, seated safely on her neat, narrow bed, she opened the envelope and saw more money inside. Next to it was a note penned in a familiar, swirling hand:

My dear Charlotte,

I have one other
tiny
favor to ask of you, so that we may be certain nothing can go amiss. After Miss Beauvisage's visitor arrives, do please wait in the back of the house in case you hear any commotion, or hear her cry out. Mr. Standish has come to compromise her, thereby ending the adulterous affair between her and my husband. A messy business, I realize, but the only solution where right may prevail in the end. When you see that this has been accomplished, you must go to Lord Altburne, remind him that you are ultimately loyal to him, and tell him what you have seen.

Also, dear Charlotte, if you imagine that you recognize Mr. Standish, say nothing. You must
trust
me.

There was no signature, but none was needed. Charlotte's head throbbed and she burst into tears.

* * *

Smiling politely, Kristin ushered Natalya's caller into the center stair hall. She had sent a young housemaid to fetch her sister and was now uncertain how to proceed.

"I understand that you are English, Mr. Standish?"

"That is correct." David squinted slightly, having taken off his spectacles so that he might affect a quizzing-glass instead. His high, starched collarpoints grazed his chin, and he wore a cravat tied with extreme intricacy. Producing his quizzing-glass with a flourish, he peered through it at Kristin, who was clad in a lovely evening dress consisting of a British net frock over a blue satin slip. It was cut low around her breasts, and she drew her shawl closer to her body in response to his appreciative gaze.

"I am a great admirer of your sister's writing talents," David went on, drawing out
My Lady's Heart
from under his coat. "She has a singular gift, but clearly God has blessed
you
with extraordinary beauty!"

Kristin took a step backward. Her carriage was waiting and she was already late, but she deplored the idea of leaving Natalya alone with this person. She was about to tell him that her sister was too ill to see him when Natalya herself appeared on the staircase.

"Mr. Standish?" she inquired, descending quickly with a smile of greeting. "I am Natalya Beauvisage. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Ah!" David exclaimed as he took her hand at the foot of the stairs. "I see that I have been hasty in my judgment. God has blessed you not only with artistic talent, but also with beauty as breathtaking as your sister's!"

Rodney had left the carriage and appeared now at the door. "Are you ready to depart, miss?"

Kristin glanced despairingly toward Natalya. "I could change my plans...."

"Nonsense," she pronounced. "Mr. Standish and I are just going to have a cup of tea and then I'll write for the rest of the evening. I'll see you when you return later."

Kristin bade them a reluctant good-bye and preceded Rodney to the carriage, barely noticing as he helped her in. As they started off down the sweeping drive, she sat back and tried to dismiss the unsettling feeling in her stomach. Perhaps she had only imagined that David Standish had a faint scent of evil.

Chapter 29

May 18, 1814

"Now then, Mr. Standish, may I offer you a cup of tea?" Natalya inquired as she led him into the north parlor. Perching on the edge of the Chippendale settee, she gestured toward a nearby wing chair, hoping that her visitor would take the hint. Instead he sat beside her and lifted his quizzing-glass.

"No need to bother the servants, Miss Beauvisage. I'd be happier with a bit of brandy, and don't mind pouring it myself. Why don't I get you a sherry?" Without waiting for her assent, he went to the cellaret and availed himself of its contents, returning moments later with two generously filled glasses. "Ah, this looks delicious after that tedious ride from Philadelphia. To your health, my dear!"

Natalya eyed the goblet of sherry dubiously, but she wanted to get through this as amicably as possible. She touched the rim of her glass to his, took a sip, and then ventured, "I understand that you knew the Earl of Hartford's son in England."

David nearly choked. "Who told you that?"

"My maid, Charlotte, whom you met in the bookshop yesterday. When she gave me your note, she recommended you highly, and said she knew of you when she was employed by the earl."

"Oh!" Silently damning Francesca for not informing him of her detailed scheming, he managed to regain his composure. "Yes, I am acquainted with the family. David St. James was an excellent fellow."

"I know his brother, Grey," she confided. "What a tragedy David's death must have been."

"Alas, how true!" Shaking his head, David drank liberally from his glass. "He was by far the more worthy of the two sons, if I may say so. Don't suppose that Grey wasted a moment grieving for him."

"Oh, no, I think you're wrong. I believe that he was more affected by the loss than even he knows, and he has told me that he would change his relationship with his brother if he could go back."

Her visitor looked pained for an instant, then squinted at her through his quizzing-glass. "Indeed? It doesn't signify in the least now, though, does it? And I didn't come out here to discuss a lot of English nobles. I came to acquaint myself with
you,
dear lady. Has anyone told you how beautiful you are? One imagines that a female author will be plain and all too maidenly, but you're nothing like that...."

When Mr. Standish moved to narrow the space between them, Natalya felt a sudden wave of panic. All her instincts told her that her admirer was about to become inappropriately ardent. She began to hope that Charlotte would recover from her indigestion and burst clumsily into the room to rescue her.

* * *

When Francesca heard Grey's step on the stairs, she stood behind her bedchamber door and waited for him to knock.

"Francesca," he called in demanding tones. "Why the devil has your butler sent me up here? Come downstairs and we'll conduct this interview in your parlor."

"Grey, dear, just join me inside for a moment, then we can go downstairs," she replied. "I have the jewels here, and would rather not show them to the servants."