Wickeds Scandal (The Wickeds) (18 page)

“Grandmother, are you sure?  Perhaps
Alexandra is ill or –“ 

“Absolutely!  Harry,” Donata smiled
at the footman. “Please stay here.” The Dowager gestured to a space just under
the stoop of the door. She turned to Miranda. “If she is ill, all the more
reason to see her.  And Harry, should you hear me raise my voice, I am in
need of your assistance.”  Donata stared down the Lord Burke’s butler as
she walked through the door.

“Yes, my lady.  I shall come
running.”  Harry nodded, his dark eyes never leaving the butler.

Donata thought Harry a good boy and a very
capable footman.  He adored Donata. 

Burke’s butler nodded to Donata, leading
she and Miranda down a dark entryway. “This way, milady.”

“This visit is most overdue.
Most
overdue
. Several invitations have been sent to Miss Dunforth inviting her
to join us for tea,
and
an outing to Thrumbadge’s
and
a drive in
Hyde Park.  She refused them all.  Strange behavior from a woman with
Miss Dunforth’s lively and curious mind.  I refuse to believe she means to
keep herself sequestered in this....house.”  Donata choked on the word as she
took in the state of the hallway the butler lead them down.  She stared in
horror at the garish decorations of Burke’s home.  It was enough to make
her run screaming back to her carriage.

“Good Lord!  What a hideous display
of poor taste,” she said out loud to the butler’s back, as he shuffled ahead of
them.

Miranda’s eyes widened, taking in the dim
corners of hall. One gloved finger touched a side table. She gasped as it came
back black with dust. 

“And filthy to boot,” Donata muttered,
seeing Miranda’s ruined glove.  “Does Lord Burke not employ a
housekeeper?” 

The butler ignored her question.  He
opened the door to a small salon.  He studiously avoided Donata’s
question, only nodding as he stepped aside.

Donata’s eyes widened at the state of the
salon.  The entryway and hallway, while horridly decorated, were in
relatively good repair.  This room, however, spoke of neglect and
desperation.  She could not help but notice the chipped paint around the
doorway, nor the way the corners of the wallpaper peeled away from the window
edges.  She could clearly see the oval and square shapes left behind on
the walls that bespoke of pictures sold long ago. The rug underneath Donata’s feet
was worn and threadbare. The design of the rug so faded it was impossible to
guess the original design.
So, Lord Burke is on his way to the poor house
. 
The pompous ass was no doubt busy selling everything within his reach,
including Miss Dunforth. Alexandra’s association with that depraved cur, Archie
Runyon, started to make sense.

Donata shivered, not from the room’s
dampness, but at the thought of Archie Runyon once again on the loose in
London.  She prayed fervently that he would never return, but Miranda’s
near hysterical arrival from Thrumbadge’s two weeks ago crushed Donata’s fragile
hope that he was gone from their lives.

“Grandmother, he’s back!” Miranda sobbed that
day.  She collapsed against her grandmother, hugging Donata tightly. 

Confused, Donata stroked the dark head of
Miranda, wondering who Miranda could possibly be talking about.  “Who,
Miranda?”

“Archie!  We saw him. Spoke to him.
He was at Thrumbadge’s with Miss Dunforth!  How could he possibly know
Alexandra?”

A chill settled over Donata at the
mention of Archie Runyon.  She recalled the man she saw across the room at
Lady Dobson’s ball.  Archie had been there. Hiding in the shadows.

“Cam didn’t speak a word on the carriage
ride home.  Not a word.  I know Archie did something awful, truly
terrible to make Father and Cam hate him so.”

Donata stayed silent.  Miranda had
every right to know, but Donata did not have the strength at that moment to
tell her granddaughter such a vile story.

“I think Cam means to kill him.” 
Miranda’s green eyes were wide.

“Well, I wish someone would,” Donata said
as she comforted Miranda. She did indeed know what Archie had done, or had
almost done, and to
whom
.  The thought solidified her hatred of her
daughter-in-law, Jeanette. Donata dried Miranda’s tears that day and sent her
granddaughter up for a nap before dinner.  Donata needed to think. 
She loved Miranda dearly, but at times, Miranda’s chattering gave her a
headache.  Her grandson did not come into Cambourne House after dropping
off Miranda. Sutton’s coach pulled away from Cambourne House before Donata could
have Harry fetch him.    Archie came back to London at his own
peril.  Donata did not doubt Sutton would kill the man.  But, what of
Miss Dunforth?  Donata could not allow a young woman,
any
young
woman, to be taken in by that monster.  Especially as she suspected Miss
Dunforth’s affections lay in another direction.  Later that same day,
after several unsuccessful attempts to find her grandson, Donata sent her
favorite footman, the same Harry who now guarded the door, on an errand. 

Lord Burke’s offensive butler cleared his
throat, bringing Donata back to the dismal parlor.  At least a fire lit
the hearth, although the flames needed stoking and another log should be
added.  The curtains of one window were open a bit to let in the weak
morning light. Donata thought she spied a form perched in the corner.

“Lady Reynolds?” Alexandra’s voice
sounded from the dim room.

“Open these all of these curtains
immediately!” Donata thumped her cane.  “Send someone in to tend the
fire!”

The butler rushed to open the curtains scattering
dust throughout the room.

Miranda sneezed.

Miss Dunforth sat on a faded, overstuffed
chair with a book, unopened in her lap.  She had been peering through the
crack in the curtains at the garden outside. Or what passed as a garden, thought
Donata, a kind word for the weed-infested expanse she glimpsed through the
window.

“My child!”  Donata hobbled over to
Alexandra.  She lowered herself onto an ugly couch, wincing at the pain in
her hip.  How she detested old age!  “Are you ill? Why are you
sitting here in the dark?” 

“Forgive me, my lady.  I’ve had
headaches that leave me quite exhausted. The dim light seems to help.” 

“Headaches?  Really, Miss Dunforth
that is not a valid excuse for ignoring the Dowager Marchioness of
Cambourne.  I’ve issued you invitations for delightful outings. 
Invited you for tea.  You have ignored me. I had to venture out into this
dreadful weather to search for you,”  Donata said sternly. 
“Me!  The Dowager Marchioness!  Forced to call upon
you,
Miss
Dunforth.  Why it simply isn’t done.”

Alexandra didn’t flinch at her
tone.  She gave Donata an apologetic smile.  “I’m so sorry to have
disappointed you.”

Donata cheered silently at the note of
sarcasm in Alexandra’s words.   

“Such a
tone
Miss Dunforth! 
Remember to whom you are speaking!”  Donata chided. She squeezed
Alexandra’s hand, spoiling the rebuke. “Miranda is here as well.  Poor
Miranda cannot enjoy tea when her mother is around, you know.” 

Miranda agreed cheerfully.  “It’s
true Alexandra!  I’m not even permitted a tea-cake. No scones or
sandwiches, not even a cube of sugar with my tea.  Mother says I’ll become
stout and pop my stays.” Miranda swept her hands down her trim figure.   “Going
somewhere else for tea is the only chance I have.”  Miranda sneezed
again. 

Alexandra raised her arm to grab at the
bell-pull just behind her.

The girl’s arm shook slightly, though she
did not seem especially sickly, only tired.  Weak. Miss Dunforth showed
neither of those tendencies earlier.  She did not strike Donata as nervous
and given to physical ailment. Donata’s sixth sense, ever useful in these
situations, told Donata something else was wrong with Miss Dunforth.

The parlor door flew open, the knob
thrusting into the opposing wall with a bang. A bulldog in female form gave a
snarl and fixed beady eyes on Miss Dunforth.  “You rang?”  The woman
stopped at the sight of Donata and Miranda.  The bulldog cleared her
throat.  “You ain’t supposed to have company, Miss Dunforth.  Lord
Burke says you’re to rest.  You have headaches and you must get better.”
The woman’s gaze shifted to the ceiling as her tone sweetened.

Donata found the servant appalling. 
Appalling
. What an ugly woman.  So
seedy.
 
“Balderdash! 
I
am not company! 
I
am the Dowager
Marchioness of Cambourne, and this is Lady Reynolds.” She nodded to
Miranda.  “You.” She pointed her cane at what she considered another
worthless servant of Lord Burke.  “Bring us tea and sandwiches. 
Now.” 

 The woman’s features contorted into
a mask of blank pleasantness. “As you wish. I will let Lord Burke know you are
here, Lady Reynolds.”

  Donata snorted.  “Lovely. 
I look forward to renewing my acquaintance with your master.”  She raised
her chin, queen like.  “Don’t dwaddle.  Go get us some tea.” 

The woman didn’t move.  She snuck a
look at Alexandra.

Donata pounded her cane on the
floor.  “Harry!”

The young footman appeared magically at
the door of the parlor.  He gave the servant an evil look.  “Yes, my
lady?”

“This is….?” Donata pointed to the
servant who seemed to shrink a bit under Harry’s regard.

“Tilda.”  Alexandra interrupted from
the couch.  “My maid.”  Alexandra put her hand to her mouth to stifle
a giggle as if she knew how ludicrous it was that Tilda was a maid. “My uncle
is a bit short staffed it seems, and Tilda must do double duty.”

Donata regarded Tilda with a look akin to
horror.  “That woman is not a ladies maid.”  The Dowager
intoned.  “Tilda is bringing in tea, Harry. Once she does, you are to
stand by the parlor door in case I need you.  We shan’t like to be
disturbed.” 

Tilda bit her lip.

 “Well?” Donata pointed at Tilda
with her cane.  I am the Dowager Marchioness of Cambourne and I do not
like to be kept waiting!” Tilda dropped an awkward curtsy and scurried out of
the parlor.

“I fear you have frightened Tilda. 
No easy task is that.”  Alexandra brushed a curl off her head.  “Her
bark is much worse than her bite.  I’m not sure where my uncle found her.”

“Hurrumph”. The Dowager snorted in
disapproval.

Miranda flitted around the room like a
hummingbird.  Every so often, her eyes met Donata’s over Alexandra’s head.
She regaled Alexandra with the latest brace of suitors to cross the steps of
Cambourne House making Alexandra laugh softly.

Tilda reappeared, her bullish looking
face red and determined.  Two teapots sat on a tray along with an odd
assortment of tiny cakes and some bruised fruit.

“Interesting,” Donata wondered at the two
teapots. “Is there a reason there are
two
pots of tea?”

“Well, Miss Dunforth likes a special kind
of tea.  I make it just for her.  The doctor says it helps with her
headaches.  You and Lady Reynolds would not enjoy it so much.”  The
beady gaze shifted to the right, away from Donata.

“Thank you.” Donata waved at the maid,
dismissing her. “You
may go.”

The woman remained rooted to the spot,
unwilling to leave the tea.   A nervous tic appeared in her cheek.

“Well?  You may go.  I shall
pour.” Donata commanded.

Harry’s dark head appeared around the
doorway.  “My lady, is all well?”

Nervously, Tilda looked at Harry, then
back to Donata.   She bobbed once and left the room, sparing a glance
at the tea as she exited.

“Yes, Harry.  Pray do shut the
door.”

Donata waited until the door shut,
relieved Harry stood guard.  They would not be disturbed again.  Not
even by Lord Burke.  Donata poured three steaming cups of tea from the
second pot, ignoring Alexandra’s “special” tea.  She handed a plain cup of
tea to Alexandra.

“Lady Reynolds, I should drink my
tea.”  Alexandra pointed to the first pot. ” The doctor prescribed it for
my headaches.”

Donata pretended deafness. She pushed
aside the first pot.

While Miranda chattered lightly to
Alexandra, distracting her, Donata lifted the first teapot’s lid.  She
sniffed.  A sickly sweet smell wafted up into her nostrils.  She knew
that smell.   Memories of her husband, the elder Marquess, flooded
through her at the smell.  Her husband reeked of that particular odor the
entire last year of his life.  Her husband died slowly and painfully, but
the laudanum helped to ease his passage into the next world.  Many doctors
favored prescribing laudanum for headaches.  Particularly for wives who
perhaps were considered unruly, opinionated, or full of female complaints. Her
gaze flew to Alexandra.  The girl left early during her first visit to
Cambourne House due to headache.  Donata assumed that headache to actually
be her grandson. The spark between the two was so bright one would be blind not
to see it.  But perhaps she was incorrect?  Donata cocked her head,
taking stock of Miss Dunforth.  Alexandra wasn’t ill, exactly, but she did
not sparkle quite as brightly.  Donata was sure the diagnosis of
Alexandra’s headaches was false.