The Mysterious Maid-Servant (3 page)

“I am – sorry that I should – disappoint your Lordship.”

“But you do not intend to assuage my curiosity?”

“No – my Lord.”

The Earl could not help being amused.

It seemed so extraordinary that this frail creature with her thin face and prominent bones should defy him, even though she must know that he was prepared to be her benefactor.

However, since for the moment he had no wish to bully her, he gave in with good grace.

“Very well then, have it your own way. Pack up what you want and be off with you and do not be late coming back or I shall imagine that you have absconded with my money.”

“You must realise it is always a mistake to pay in advance.”

And although he was surprised at her reply he found himself smiling at it.

She packed the cold meats from the dishes in white paper, folded them neatly into a parcel and picked it up in both hands.

“Thank you very much, my Lord,” she said softly.

Then, as if she suddenly recalled herself to her duties, she added,

“You will rest this afternoon? And if possible you should sleep.”

“Are you ordering me to do so?”

“Of course! You have put me in the position of nursing you. I must therefore tell your Lordship what is the right thing to do even if you refuse to do it.”

“Do you anticipate that I might?”

“I think it unlikely that anyone could make you do anything you did not want to do and I am therefore appealing to your Lordship’s better judgement.”

“That is very astute of you, Giselda,” the Earl said. “But you know as well as I do that ‘
when the cat is away the mice will play
’ so if you really care about my well-being, I suggest you are not away for too long!”

“I shall return as soon as I have the ointment, my Lord.”

Giselda curtsied with a grace that was indefinable and left the room.

The Earl watched her go and picking up his glass of claret drank it reflectively.

For the first time for a year he had an interest outside his own health.

An active man, a man who for the past ten years had been occupied in either the field of battle or the field of sport, he found the inaction imposed upon him since being wounded an intolerable condition.

He violently resented his ill health. It was a weakness he despised and he fought against it, as if it was an enemy he must wear down and vanquish.

There was no reason for him to be alone.

Cheltenham was full of people who were well aware of his Social importance and of Officers who had either served under him or who admired him as a military leader.

They would have been only too pleased to visit him and when it was possible, entertain him in their houses.

But the Earl was not only in bad health – he was also bad-tempered. He had been outstandingly fit all his life and he loathed now being an invalid.

He decided quite unreasonably that Society bored him, especially a Society where he could not for the moment enjoy the favours of attractive women.

Like his Commander, the Duke of Wellington, the Earl liked the society of women, especially those with whom he could indulge in a freedom of speech and manner that was not permissible amongst the refined ladies of the
Beau Monde.

His
affaires de coeur
therefore ranged from the glamorous opera singers of Drury Lane to the most attractive and fashionable beauties of St. James.

It was difficult for any of them to refuse him. Not only was he important by birth and extremely rich, he also had that indefinable attraction that women found irresistible.

It was not simply that he was tall, broad shouldered and handsome. In uniform he made a picture that was enough to make any female’s heart beat faster, but he also had an additional something in his manner that women found fascinating.

It captivated them to a point where they lost not only their heads but also their hearts.

It might perhaps have been the lazy indifference with which he regarded them that was very different from the alert commands that he gave when dealing with his men.

“You treat me as if I were a doll or a puppet – just a plaything that has no other function in life except to amuse you,” one charmer had said petulantly.

It was a statement that was echoed in various ways by almost every woman who had preceded or followed her.

The truth lay in the fact that the Earl did not take women seriously.

With his soldiers it was different.

The men he commanded adored him because he treated them as individuals and, although he expected implicit obedience, he was never too busy to listen to a man’s grievances or his personal difficulties.

It was not conceit that made the Earl bolt his door against the lovely women who would have been only too thrilled to sit at his bedside and hold his hand after Mr. Newell had operated on him.

Nor was it frustration at being unable to make love to them physically.

It was in truth that he found the company of women boring, unless he was actively pursuing them and indulging in the cut and thrust of a flirtation, which inevitably ended in bed.

So, of his own free will, the Earl had confined himself to the conversation of Batley and the interchange of pleasantries that took place every day between himself and Colonel Berkeley’s Comptroller of the Household, Mr. Knightley.

Now, unexpectedly, entirely by chance, a woman had brought him a new interest and, if she had planned it, Giselda could not have aroused him more effectively than by being elusive, secretive and mysterious.

The Earl was used to women who told him everything about themselves long before he asked them to do so, and who were only too willing to talk interminably to him so long as they were the subject of the conversation.

It was not only pity that he felt for Giselda because she was so undernourished, she positively interested him as a person.

How could it be possible that a girl who was obviously a lady, well educated and of a refinement that showed that she had come from a good home, been brought to the point of starvation?

And not only deprived herself, but also her mother and her young brother.

How could they suddenly have been reduced to such poverty? How, if her father’s death had brought about a financial crisis, had there been no relations to help? How was it possible to have no one to give them a roof over their heads?

The Earl did not sleep as Giselda had suggested he should. Instead he laid thinking about her, wondering how he could persuade her to talk about herself.

‘I dare say when I learn the story it will be a very ordinary one,’ he thought. ‘Cards, drink, other women! What else is there that ensures that when a man dies, his family is left without support?’

Although he laughed at himself for being interested, there was no doubt that he was intrigued and insatiably curious and the afternoon seemed to pass remarkably slowly.

He had just begun to wonder if Giselda had other reasons for not returning, when the door opened and she came in.

She had changed her gown, he noticed at once, for one that was more attractive although it was definitely as dated as the other had been.

She carried a shawl over one arm and on the other a basket.

The plain bonnet that framed her thin face was trimmed with blue ribbons, which matched the colour of her eyes. For the first time it crossed the Earl’s mind that she would be beautiful if she were not so thin.

“I am sorry, my Lord, to have been so long,” she said, “but I had to buy the ingredients my mother required for the ointment and it took a little time to make. However, I have it with me now, and I am sure you will be much more comfortable once I have applied it.”

“I was wondering why you were so long.”

“May I do your leg now?” Giselda asked. “Then perhaps, if you do not want me any more, I could go home.”

“I expect you to dine with me.”

Giselda was still for a moment, then she said quietly,

“Is that really necessary? You gave me luncheon and I was grateful. I guessed, before they told me downstairs that you do not usually eat so much at midday, that you were being kind.”

Although she spoke gratefully, the Earl had the impression that she half resented his generosity simply because it offended her pride.

“Hungry or not,” he said, “You
will
dine with me. I am tired of eating alone.”

“May I point out that your Lordship has many friends who are far more suitable as dinner companions than I am?”

“Are you arguing with me again?” the Earl asked.

“I am afraid so. I thought that your Lordship would not require my services so late.”

“You have another engagement – some
beau
who is waiting for you?”

“It is nothing like that.”

“Are you expecting me to believe that you are anxious to leave merely because you wish to return to your mother and your brother?”

There was silence for a moment and, as Giselda did not reply, the Earl said sharply,

“I asked you a question and I expect an answer.”

“I think your Lordship will understand when I say that you have engaged me to attend to your leg and to wait on you,” Giselda said after a moment. “I am still a servant, my Lord.”

“And as a servant you must learn to do as you are told. If I am eccentric or peculiar, if you like, in wishing the company of one of my servants at dinner, I see no reason why they should not comply with what is not a request but an order.”

“Yes, my Lord. But you must admit that it is unusual.”

“And how do you know it is unusual for me?” the Earl replied. “I know nothing about you, Giselda, you know nothing about me. We met today for the first time. Doubtless you had not heard of me until yesterday.”

“Of course I – ”

Giselda stopped suddenly.

The Earl looked at her sharply.

“Finish that sentence!”

There was no reply.

“You were going to say that of course you had heard of me. How could you have done that?”

Again there was silence.

Then, as if the words were dragged from her lips, Giselda replied,

“You are – famous. I think everyone has heard of you – just as they have heard of the – Duke of Wellington.”

It was not entirely a truthful answer and the Earl was well aware of that, but he did not press the point.

“Very well, I concede that I am famous, but is that any reason why you should refuse to dine with me?”

Giselda put the basket down on the table.

“What I am trying to say, my Lord, is that as your servant it would be a mistake for me to assume any different position.”

“Am I offering you one?”

“No – my Lord, not exactly – but – ” she struggled for words.

“Let me make this quite clear,” the Earl said. “I do not intend to be tied by convention. Petty rules or regulations may apply in some households, but certainly not in this. If I decide to have one of the scullions to dinner, I see no reason why he should not come upstairs although he would doubtless dislike it as much as I should.”

His eyes were on Giselda’s face and he went on,

“But where you are concerned, you have a very different status. You are here to minister to me, whether it means to bandage my leg or to give me your company at the rather awkward meals I am obliged to take from my bedside.”

His voice was hard and authoritative as he continued,

“It is up to me and not to anyone else – I make the choice – I choose what I wish to do and I see no reason why anyone in my employment, man or woman, should oppose me on such an insignificant matter.”

The Earl spoke in a manner that those who had served under him knew only too well and Giselda capitulated exactly as they would have done.

She curtsied.

“Very good, my Lord. If you will permit me to remove my bonnet and to fetch some hot water, I will now attend to your leg.”

“The sooner the better!” the Earl said loftily.

Giselda left the room and when he was alone he chuckled to himself.

He knew that he had found the way to treat her, a way in which she found it hard to oppose him. He told himself with some satisfaction that, if he had not won a battle, at least he had been the victor in a small skirmish.

Giselda came back with the hot water.

Once again there was a little pain when the bandages were removed, but her hands were very gentle and the Earl noted with approval that she was not in the least embarrassed in tending him as a man.

There were no women nurses obtainable, in fact nursing was considered a job essentially for men.

But the Earl had always thought when he was on active service that the wounded attended to in Convents were far more fortunate than those who were at the mercy of rough orderlies in the overcrowded hospitals.

“How have you gained so much experience?” he asked.

As he spoke, he was aware it was a probing question that doubtless Giselda would try to avoid.

“I have had a lot of bandaging to do,” she answered.

“For your family?” he asked conversationally.

She did not answer, but merely pulled the sheet over his leg. Then she tidied the bed and patted up his pillows.

“I am waiting for an answer, Giselda,” the Earl said.

She gave him a smile, which had something mischievous in it.

“I think, my Lord, we should talk of more interesting things. Are you aware that the Duke of Wellington is coming to open the new Assembly Rooms?”

“The Duke?” the Earl exclaimed. “Who told you this?”

“It is all over the town. He has been here before, of course, but not since Waterloo. The town is to be illuminated in his honour and there is to be a triumphal arch of welcome across the High Street.”

“I have seen arches before,” the Earl remarked, “but I would like to see the Duke.”

“He will be staying in Colonel Riddell’s house which is not far from here.”

“Then he will undoubtedly call and see me,” the Earl said, “and I expect you would like to meet the great hero of Waterloo?”

Giselda turned away.

“No,” she said. “No – I have no desire to – meet the Duke.”

The Earl looked at her in surprise.