The Admiral's Daughter (26 page)

Maggie managed, by such kinds of arguments, to quiet her annoyance, but the very fact that she
was
annoyed only confirmed her feelings for the naval officer. And now she saw him turn toward her again and begin to make his way in her direction. His first words, upon reaching her side were,

“I have just been with your cousin, Miss Ramblay, and seen with my own eyes what is going on between her and Count Orsini. If I am not much mistaken, they are equally torn between a desire to gaze into each other's eyes and a desire to dance. Such is their dilemma that I do not suppose they shall accomplish either. Miss Ramblay cannot bear to look very long into Orsini's eyes, and Orsini looks too dumbstruck to dance.”

Maggie said, with a little sideways smile: “Is not my cousin a pretty girl?”

“Exceeding pretty!” exclaimed Captain Morrison, grinning back. “A prettier creature I never beheld. However,” continued he, in a confidential murmur, “she is not my type at all. My own idea of female beauty tends more to height and color, and a quick wit. And for those qualifications, there is only one lady here to fill 'em—one lady, I think, perhaps in all of England.”

Captain Morrison spoke these words with such a nice mixture of lightness and sincerity that Maggie was won over at once, and on the spot forgave him for biding so long away from her.

“I meant to tell you,” said Maggie after a moment, “what
made my cousin so angry with me. It has made me miserable this whole past week, but I am determined to take your opinion, whether or not it was my fault.”

Captain Morrison seemed very pleased with this, and regarded her with great earnestness while she told the tale of what had happened in Essex. Briefly she narrated how her initial prejudice against the Viscount had affected her opinion of him, of how she had been surprised, after the incident upon the highway, and still more from hearing Morrison's summation of her cousin's marriage, at finding Lord Ramblay kinder than she had supposed he would be and, moreover, hearing him again and again defend her before his mother. She recounted how there were no pictures of the late Lady Ramblay anywhere in the castle, and how no one ever spoke of her, save that one time in the gazebo, when Lord Ramblay himself had opened the subject, only to close it again so quickly and so angrily, and how this had made her wonder. She told him, and with no little embarrassment, of the morbid picture she had concocted in her own mind of a really venomous hatred on his side, which she had begun to think might have led up either to an outright murder, or the moral equivalent of one.

“I am ashamed to say I really did suppose, for a moment, that they were all trying to conceal some horrible kind of deed. How unnatural it was, to be sure, that none of them ever mentioned her by name! It seemed to me they wished to forget her existence, to erase it from their minds. There were so many hints to that effect: Fanny herself confessed she was forbidden to speak of the subject! And then, Lord Ramblay behaved in altogether so mysterious a way. He was forever looking strangely off into the air, forever disappearing, and then appearing at odd moments. He would be perfectly open, and then suddenly his countenance would close up in the angriest way imaginable!”

Maggie paused for a moment, hoping she had painted the scene convincingly enough, for she hated the idea of seeming foolish in Captain Morrison's eyes. But the gentleman, rather than smile, as she had supposed he would, was staring at her intently.

“I can well understand how you might have come to suppose such a thing, Miss Trevor. Of course, it is inconceivable
that such a man—even a cold man—could, in this day and age, commit so foul a sin against his own wife. Inconceivable. And yet—and yet—there
does
seem to be so much evidence, that is, so many contradictions between his behavior and what we know of their marriage. However,” he added, in a brisker voice, “I am sure you now have proof that nothing of the kind could have taken place.”

Maggie would like to have been able to confirm this, but in fact, aside from her own belief, she had no absolute proof. The certainty she had felt all week—in fact, ever since the moment of opening the cupboard door that night and facing the array of housekeeping objects that had seemed to mock at her excess of imagination—suddenly gave way before the inquiring glance of her interrogator.

“Why—no, I have not,” she was forced to say at last, her eyes wide. And suddenly the memory, which had for the whole week perplexed her, of Lord Ramblay's defensive attitude when she had accused
him
of bringing on James's illness, came back to her. “That can be no concern of yours,” he had said angrily, “you have already interfered where you had no right to be.” At the time, his anger had seemed a natural outgrowth of the rage he had felt against her for interfering with his son, but now his extreme defensiveness began to have a new significance.

Captain Morrison was smiling at her encouragingly. “Well, I am sure there must be some good reason for all this mystery, though it
does
seem odd. However, I did not mean to interrupt your tale.”

And Maggie, recovering from her momentary loss of assurance, continued her narration. She told him about how she had discovered the existence of a son, and of the child's inability to speak. Here, too, was another mystery—for she had yet to comprehend why the child had not been spoken of, even if the mother had not. It was clear Lord Ramblay was devoted to his son, even if his idea of love was to surround the boy with surgeons and keep him closeted away in a deserted wing of the castle. The thought appeared to strike Captain Morrison at the same time.

“How strange!” he murmured, glancing at her. “Surely there must have been some reason for this elaborate mystery! That Lord Ramblay should dislike speaking of his marriage, I can conceive, for he must surely feel some
guilt upon the matter of his treatment of Anna. But to hide the little boy away——”

“It is just how it strikes me!” exclaimed Maggie, staring up at the officer. “Indeed, I thought at first the child must have witnessed some act, some dreadful scene, which had made him mute—it was to try to prove it, one way or another, that I went myself—but I am going too far ahead.”

And then Maggie explained how she had first seen the child, how she had introduced herself to his nurse, and played with him, quite innocently and gently, for no more than half an hour. That the child had responded, and benefited from the little time they had had together, she was almost positive. She had been so convinced of the fact, indeed, that she had been on the point of suggesting to her cousin that so much elaborate medical attention might more simply, and more effectively, be replaced by a normal life. If the child could not speak, at least he ought to be allowed to play and laugh like other children! Maggie's passionate defense of this view brought a smile to Captain Morrison's lips, and he nodded most emphatically in agreement.

“But I had still to assure myself that his illness was not a result of a great shock. How idiotic you must think me when I tell you that I actually crept out of my room late that night, while my cousin was still away from the castle, and stole about the closed-up wing, exactly as if I had been a thief!”

“And did you find anything?” the Captain demanded quickly.

“Nothing. I saw that the rooms were open and the furniture covered up, and when at last I came upon some apartments that
were
closed off, and flung open a door—discovered nothing more than a cupboard full of boxes and flat irons! And just when I had learned my lesson, when I was on the point of slipping back to my own room, Lord Ramblay discovered me!”

Captain Morrison's eyes had narrowed.

“By God—and I suppose you were made to feel your shame! I do not envy anyone discovered lurking about Lord Ramblay's house!”

Maggie smiled in self-condemnation.

“And you may imagine what irony I was then subjected to! Still, I should have borne
that
perfectly well, had not
my cousin then informed me that his son had suffered a great relapse from having seen me that afternoon. He seemed to think I had frightened the child out of his wits, rather than played an innocent game with him!”

No words could express Captain Morrison's incredulity at this piece of news. How could she have been accused so vilely, so falsely! How could so gentle a woman, with nothing but the best intentions, ever harm a child!

“That is what
I
thought,” replied Maggie ruefully. “But you see, there is no doubt of it. The nurse herself was uneasy at my speaking to him, and as I learned, was so wracked with guilt for having let me that she could barely tell her master. Indeed, it is astonishing to me that the child, after looking so well when I left him, should have taken so sudden a turn for the worse.”

Captain Morrison said nothing for a while, but the expression on his face made it clear how puzzled he was by all of this. At last, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but shut it again, thinking better of it.

“I can see you have some idea upon the subject, sir,” murmured Maggie. “I wish you would tell me what you think—for in truth, I have not rested since that night. Do you think I was to blame? I cannot really believe it, and yet neither can I argue the evidence. I suppose no very grave injury was done, or I should have heard of it—but I shall never forgive myself for rushing in where I had no business being!”

A moment passed before Captain Morrison spoke, and when he did, it was with a very measured tone, as if he weighed each word. “What
I
think, Miss Trevor, is that this is a very peculiar business. I no more believe you injured that child than that my name is Smith. I should not wonder that your cousin—if you will pardon me—was not endeavoring to prevent your continued search that night, and only seized upon the nearest excuse at hand to frighten you away. Indeed, the more I think of it, from all you have said, the more convinced I am that that is the only satisfactory explanation for his vile accusation.”

Maggie stared at him, aghast, hardly daring to breathe.

Nineteen

COUNT ORSINI HAD
made a very great impression upon Miss Ramblay. Considerably older and more polished than any of the young men whose admiration she was becoming accustomed to, his attentions had been the crowning glory of an otherwise triumphant introduction at Almack's. The young lady returned to Grosvenor Square that night with a starry look in her eyes—which was not lost upon her cousin—and before the two retired, slipped into Maggie's room.

“Wish me joy, my dear, good friend!” she exclaimed, with such innocent rapture that Maggie could not help smiling, “for I do really think I am in love!” There followed a minute description of her meeting with the Count, who, too impatient to wait for a formal introduction, had presented himself. He had not attempted to hide his admiration for her, and Fanny, whose nature was about as artless as it was possible to be, considered his Continental manner the very apex of elegance and sophistication. That so worldly a gentleman should have seen anything to admire in a dull creature like herself was almost beyond her belief. It was no mystery to Maggie, however. One glance at that downy-soft complexion, now lit up with amazement and pleasure, those radiant, candid eyes, and that slender child's figure told
her
what any man must instantly see and love. But Fanny would not believe she deserved anything; no, no—surely she was the luckiest creature in the world!

Count Orsini had evidently understood his own good fortune in encountering so rare a gem as Miss Ramblay, for he had lost no time in idle flirtation, but arranged for a second meeting on the very next day. He and Fanny were to ride together in Regent's Park. To satisfy form and custom—for Orsini was nothing if not meticulous in his attention to etiquette—they were to be accompanied by Maggie
and Captain Morrison. This latter gentleman had himself made a most favorable impression upon Fanny and, with many little smiles of complicity, she hinted that if
she
was the luckiest girl in the world, then Maggie was only a little less so. The arrangement suited everyone very well, for Maggie was nearly as eager to make the Count's acquaintance as she was to see his friend, and Fanny dearly wished for the approval of her cousin in her choice of suitors.

Maggie had not hoped to see Captain Morrison again so soon, for he had once more expressed his hesitancy to call at Grosvenor Square, even if Lord Ramblay himself was not in residence. They had left it between them, at the end of the cotillion, that they should contrive to meet as soon as possible. It was likely they should see each other very soon, for Captain Morrison was a great favorite with the hostesses of the
ton
, and Maggie, being Lady Ramblay's guest and cousin, was naturally included in every invitation. That they should meet again as soon as possible, however, was by both of them agreed upon. They had separated that evening with so many meaningful looks and such a heartfelt pressing of hands that even without any words to confirm it, Maggie was certain of the officer's feelings. Their conversation upon the subject of her cousin, moreover, had raised again all her former doubts, which were now more strong than they had ever been before. Indeed, their mutual suspicions and fears had formed a stronger bond between them than even that natural attraction which had been present from the start. As often happens, having such a common ground to work upon, gave all their conversations and looks direction, which two young people, so little acquainted, might have lacked otherwise.