The American Heiress (48 page)

Teddy made a little bow to acknowledge his appreciation of her performance and signalled to the footman to bring him a drink. The man brought him a schooner of brandy. He was downing it when Mr Cash walked over to him.

‘Well done, Teddy. That son-of-a-bitch got what was coming to him. Would have hit him myself, but my wife would never have forgiven me.’ He shrugged to indicate his helplessness.

Teddy finished his brandy.

‘It was my pleasure.’ He looked at the older man’s handsome, acquiescent face and he felt a wave of rage and scorn flood through him. They were all going to pretend that nothing had happened, they would leave the unpleasantness behind and go on serenely like swans sailing over filthy water. And Cora would have no choice but to swim with them, never looking down. He put down his glass but it missed the table and fell to the ground, shattering as it hit the stone floor.

He looked around at the faces that had turned to the source of the noise.

‘I think I’ve had enough,’ he said.

Chapter 26

‘Never to Stoop’

T
HE NEWS OF ODO’S OUTBURST REACHED THE
servants’ hall before Cora and the Prince had got halfway to the summer house. The footman was so full of his news that he forgot to put down the heavy silver tray he was carrying and stood there holding it, laden with glasses, as he told them what had happened upstairs. The upper servants were taking their pudding in Mrs Softley’s room so they missed the first telling but word soon reached them via the maid when she brought in the Madeira and sponge cake.

‘…And the new Duchess was standing there the whole time until His Highness came and took her away into the garden. What do you think will happen, Mrs Softley?’ the girl said breathlessly.

The housekeeper finished pouring the Madeira into small cutwork glasses.

‘That’s enough, Mabel. You know I won’t tolerate gossip in the servants’ hall. Get back to your work.’ But when Mabel disappeared, she said, ‘Well, I have always said that Sir Odo Beauchamp was a bad lot. She should never have married him. Men like that never get any better.’ She looked across at Bertha who was sitting next to Lady Beauchamp’s maid.

‘You had better go upstairs, Miss Jackson, and you too, Miss Beauchamp. I have some sal volatile in my cupboard if you need it.’

Bertha got up reluctantly, she knew she was being dismissed so that the Lulworth servants could talk about this freely. She tried to catch Jim’s eye. But he was looking at his hands, his jaw set. She walked out as slowly as she could but still he did not look up. She lingered in the corridor, telling the other maid that she needed to fetch a new nightgown from the laundry room. She could see the long panel of bells above the door; when Miss Cora rang she would go up, but she wanted to talk to Jim first.

At last he came walking along the corridor with Bugler. Cora thought that the butler was bound to see her but he stopped at the pantry and went inside. As Jim came past the laundry, Bertha caught him by the arm, and he pulled her to him and kissed her. She tried to push him away, but as always she felt the urge to hold him closer.

‘Not now, Jim. Not here.’

Jim said, ‘So when then, Miss Bertha Jackson? We live in the same house and yet for all I see of you, I could still be in India.’ He spoke lightly, but she could hear the frustration in his voice. It had been exciting to begin with: the stolen kisses and hurried embraces in empty corridors, but it could not go on much longer. Jim had not talked of marriage since he had come home, and though Bertha wanted him, she was not prepared to risk her job without at least the prospect of a ring.

‘You didn’t look at me in there, Jim. Does that mean you knew about the Duke and Lady Beauchamp?’

Jim said nothing and Bertha knew she had her answer. ‘But why didn’t you tell me? I should have known. I could have…’ She stopped.

‘You could have done nothing, Bertha, and that’s the truth. That’s why I didn’t tell you. What they do upstairs is their business. You don’t want to interfere. Anyway, there was nothing to stop you figuring it out for yourself. The only reason you didn’t is that you take Miss Cora’s side on everything. She’s a foreigner, Bertha, and the Duke likes things that are home-grown.’

Bertha began to feel angry. ‘What, and that makes carrying on behind Miss Cora’s back with that woman all right?’ She pushed at him with her hand. ‘I’m a foreigner too, remember.’

Jim took her hand. ‘Don’t take it that way, Bertha. You will never be foreign to me.’

Mollified, she left her hand in his.

‘Poor Miss Cora, this is going to be mighty hard on her. She thought she had it all figured out.’

Jim said, ‘I don’t know that anyone could figure out the Duke. One minute he’s throwing shaving water at me because it’s cold, next thing he’s giving me twenty guineas to get some new clothes. Some days he treats me like dirt, won’t say a civil word, and then he’ll be as charming as you like, wants to know if I have a sweetheart, if I intend to see out my days in service. There were days on the boat going out when I would have gladly jumped off and swum home – if I’d known how to swim, that is,’ he laughed. ‘Coming back wasn’t so bad, I think he was looking forward to getting home. One thing I do know, he wasn’t expecting to see Lady Beauchamp right away. We’d only just got to the club when she sent a note up for him. He looked pretty put out, and threw it on the floor.’

‘How did you know the note was from Lady Beauchamp? Did he tell you?’

‘Not likely! No, I picked it up after he’d gone and then I saw it was from her. It just said, “I’m waiting for you,” signed with a C.’

‘But how did you know it was Lady Beauchamp? C could have stood for Cora,’ Bertha said.

‘It was on plain writing paper, no crest, nothing. And why would the Duchess not sign her name? Anyway, I knew it was from
her
. She came to say goodbye to him before we left for the wedding in America. Rode in the carriage with him all the way to the station. Looked like she was going to a funeral.’ A bell began to ring. Bertha looked up from Jim’s shoulder and saw that it was the bell for the Duchess’s room.

‘It’s Miss Cora, I must go.’ She started to move away from him but Jim held her hand.

‘We should leave soon, Bertha. Take our chances. Before it’s too late.’

Bertha met his eyes, but then the bell rang again, and she heard footsteps coming down the hall.

She wondered if that had been a proposal. ‘I’ll need to get my trousseau together first,’ she said smiling.

His eyes widened in understanding and he was about to speak when the bell rang and they heard Bugler’s door open. ‘Later,’ Bertha said.

In her bedroom Cora was pacing round the furniture, tearing at the necklace round her neck. The clasp had got caught in her hair and she was desperate to get it off. She gave it one last tug and the necklace exploded, scattering diamonds across the room. Bertha opened the door, and Cora shouted at her, ‘Where’ve you been? Look what’s happened, I couldn’t get it off by myself.’ Cora knew she was being unreasonable but she was so angry that she had to yell at someone.

Bertha started to pick up the sparkling debris. ‘Don’t worry, Miss Cora, it shouldn’t be too difficult to mend.’

‘Oh, just leave it, get me out of this infernal dress.’ Cora twitched furiously in the golden brocade. Bertha got up slowly, her movements a reproach. She set down the gems on the dressing table with a clatter, taking a moment to shape them into a neat pile.

Cora screamed with impatience. She felt as if there were ants crawling all over her body. But when, at last, Bertha untied the strings of her corset, her skin felt cold and clammy. She looked at herself in the glass. There were two red smudges on her cheekbones but her lips were pale. She felt herself shivering, all the heat and irritation that had possessed her a few minutes ago had left her and now she felt cold and so weary. She wanted to lie down, close her eyes and obliterate everything that had just passed. She thought of the Prince carefully guiding her round the garden, telling her again about the time he had seen Blondin walk across the Niagara Falls on a tightrope. ‘Such a little man, I thought he might be blown away by the sprrray. I confess I had to close my eyes several times.’ The Prince had stopped to admire the Canova. ‘He was prrresented to me afterwards. He was very composed, as if he had been for a walk in the park. I asked him what his trrrick was, and he said the most important thing was always to look forward and concentrate on the next step and never look down. He was so earnest when he spoke, as if he was passing on a secret. I meet so many people who tell me things but I have never forgotten him.’ He paused. ‘A fine statue, Duchess, you Amerrricans have such style.’ He did not mention Odo’s outburst in the gallery but Cora understood that he had, nonetheless, been giving her advice.

Cora heard the door open. She knew it was Ivo, anyone else would have knocked. She looked up and saw to her amazement that he was smiling. He looked completely at ease as if this was the end to a perfect evening

‘So this is where you are hiding. I was beginning to wonder if the Prince had carried you off.’ His tone was bantering. ‘You really are quite the hostess, darling. No one could complain of boredom at one of your parties.’

Their eyes met. He smiled at her equably; his eyes too dark for her to read. She had the satisfaction of seeing him take in the sparkling rubble of her necklace lying on the dressing table and flinch.

‘I don’t want to talk to you,’ she said quietly. ‘Not now, at any rate, not until after the christening.’

Ivo stepped towards her and bent down to put his face at her level, as if he was addressing a child. His smile did not falter.

‘Don’t tell me you’re sulking, Cora. So unlike you. Surely you’re not taking Odo’s outburst seriously. Everybody knows he lives to make trouble. Most people won’t have him in the house, but I seem to remember that it was
you
who insisted on having the Beauchamps to stay.’ He shrugged.

Cora took a step back. ‘What happened tonight was hardly my fault,’ she said angrily.

‘Did you know that your American friend knocked Odo down, after you left? Quite a lot of spectres at this particular feast, I’d say.’ He was still smiling, but Cora could see that a muscle in his jaw was twitching.

Bertha, who had been standing behind the wardrobe, unseen by Ivo, decided she must make her presence known before the conversation went any further. She coughed and came out with Cora’s nightdress and wrapper and laid them on the bed. She tried to keep her expression blank as if she had heard nothing.

‘Will that be all, Your Grace?’ she said meekly to Cora as she made for the door.

Cora put out her hand to stop her.

‘No, I’d like you to stay.’ She turned to Ivo. ‘The Duke was just leaving.’ She wondered if he would protest but he continued to smile, as if nothing was wrong.

‘Of course, you will need all your strength for tomorrow. Sleep well, Cora,’ and he turned and left them, closing the door behind him softly.

Cora sank back on to the bed. She could not understand what was happening. Ivo was behaving as if nothing had taken place, that if anyone was at fault, it was her. This made her angry but also hopeful. Would Ivo dare to be angry with her if Odo’s accusations were true? But then she remembered, almost against her will, Ivo and Charlotte at the piano and the space between them, thick with intimacy. She started to feel cold again and she pulled the wrapper around her. Ivo and she had been so close since his return. All the misunderstandings that had flawed the first days of their marriage seemed to have disappeared. Did Odo’s outburst mean that all that closeness had been a lie? Who was she to believe?

Bertha saw Cora huddled on the bed, her hands twisting themselves into a lattice of anxiety. She could see the bewilderment on her mistress’s face and she wondered if she should tell her what she knew about the Duke and Lady Beauchamp. But she heard Jim’s voice saying, ‘It’s not our business, Bertha,’ and she hesitated.

‘You look cold, Miss Cora. Would you like some hot milk?’

Cora looked up gratefully. ‘Yes, thank you, Bertha, that would be nice,’ and she lay back among the drifts of pillows and closed her eyes.