Intrigue (Daughters of Mannerling 2) (16 page)

Rachel looked at her mother, round-eyed. ‘You mean you would condone such behaviour? Do you mean that Jessica being coarsely assaulted is to be excused?’

‘But she was not harmed. And now Mannerling is lost to us. I had hoped to give you both a Season in London, but I do not have the funds. Perhaps had Jessica married Mr Harry, then we could have found the means.’ And so she talked on and on while the twins listened until Rachel and Abigail, still in the old grip of that obsession for Mannerling, began, too, to find excuses for Harry in their minds. Perhaps Jessica had been too bold, led him on. Only look how intimate her behaviour with Robert Sommerville had been when they had all stayed at Tarrant Hall.

In the following days and weeks, had Jessica talked of her frightening experience, they would have realized that there was no way to rationalize Harry’s behaviour. But Jessica did not talk to anyone but Miss Trumble.

Harry Devers, his arm in a sling, faced his parents. He had been allowed out of bed for the first time and was sitting wrapped in a gaudy banyan. ‘I tell you,’ he said, ‘that Jessica was a bold minx. Fact is, I decided I did not want to marry her. She tore her own gown and began to scream for help as a way of forcing me into marriage.’ His father looked at him with cold eyes. ‘In that case, why did she not force you into marriage?’

‘Probably became ashamed of her own wanton behaviour,’ said Harry sulkily.

‘We have Robert’s description of what happened, and then there are the servants, whom you threatened with dismissal. The story will have reached London by now. I suggest we buy you a commission in a good regiment and you will take yourself away from Mannerling. My man of business in the City has sent me some interesting documents. You sold all your property. In order to do so, you needed my signature, and so you forged it. So you either rejoin the army or I will disinherit you. Selling that property was the biggest crime you have ever committed.’ And thus Mr Devers proved himself to be a true Englishman. There was always an excuse for rape, but for wantonly stealing and losing money, none at all.

In vain did Harry try to plead with his parents. He cajoled, he begged. He saw his mother was weakening, but his father remained adamant.

And so, all too soon, Harry found himself in the family travelling-carriage, bowling down the long drive away from Mannerling. His eyes were filled with angry tears. He blamed the Beverleys for everything that had befallen him. One day, he would return to Mannerling, and one day, he would get his revenge on the Beverleys.

It was early in December when a sharp frost set in and Barry was busy chopping kindling, the sound of his axe ringing out across the frosty air. When Miss Trumble came up to him, he did not recognize her at first, for she was wrapped up in so many shawls and wore a bonnet like a coal-scuttle on her head.

‘Good morning, Barry,’ said Miss Trumble, her breath coming out like steam in the sharp air. ‘Chilblain time is here again.’

‘It do be so, miss. And how goes Miss Jessica?’

‘Not very well, I am afraid.’

‘Stands to reason, miss. Mortal fright she did have. We wished Mr Harry would behave badly to bring her to her senses, but we never thought he would go so far.’

‘I think he is deranged, and I hope a cannon-ball gets him, may God forgive me. But I think Jessica has recovered from her ordeal. The only problem is that she is grieving over what she has lost.’

‘Not that house again!’

‘No, not Mannerling. I do believe Robert Sommerville is the problem. I think she realized too late that she is in love with him. He never comes to Mannerling, and he certainly does not call here.’

‘Perhaps he no longer cares for her, miss. Perhaps he has taken her in dislike. I am fond of Miss Jessica, and yet I can understand if Mr Sommerville had a kind of contempt for her because she was prepared, apparently, to go to any lengths to secure Mannerling.’

‘I think you have the right of it. And yet if he could see her now! She never thinks of Mannerling. I am sure she thinks only of him. She does not discuss him with me or talk about her feelings, but she keeps finding excuses to talk about the visit to Tarrant Hall, and she often wonders if he is still there or if he found another property, things like that.’

‘I would like to do something,’ said Barry, ‘but reckon there’s not much can be done.’

‘I have been thinking of that,’ said Miss Trumble. ‘What if we were to travel to Tarrant Hall? If he is no longer there, his sister can hardly refuse to give us his direction. The university term has just ended.’

‘But how can we leave here? Lady Beverley would certainly not allow us to take the carriage.’

‘I can hire a post-chaise in Hedgefield.’

‘But how could we get away together? It would look most odd.’

‘I have had no leave. I can beg some time off to visit my relatives. I shall leave first. You will drive me into Hedgefield and I will put up at the Green Man. Then you yourself must find a reason to leave. Something that would appeal to the mercenary side of Lady Beverley’s nature. You could invent a relative who worked on some estate who needs to see you for the wedding of his daughter. Say that this relative can supply you with a goodly quantity of game for the larder. I think, under those circumstances, we would be allowed to leave.’

‘Post-chaise costs a mort,’ said Barry reflectively.

‘I have the money,’ said Miss Trumble, and then added quickly, ‘I was very thrifty in my previous employ and saved a tidy sum.’

‘And where were you employed previous, miss?’

‘Then that’s settled,’ said the governess, cheerfully ignoring the question. ‘I will start right away and see if I can persuade Lady Beverley to let me leave.’

As Barry helped Miss Trumble and her belongings into the small family carriage a week later, only Lizzie and Jessica were sad to see her go. The others blamed her for working on Jessica to break off the engagement with Harry. Longing for her old home had quite turned Lady Beverley’s brain, and the others were too innocent and virginal to realize the full extent of Jessica’s ordeal.

‘You will return?’ demanded Lizzie, catching hold of Miss Trumble’s sleeve. ‘You promised.’

‘And I never break a promise,’ said Miss Trumble. ‘Be good, my girls, and do not neglect your studies in my absence.’

As the carriage drove off under a grey sky, Lady Beverley sniffed. ‘My girls, indeed. I sometimes think I should get rid of that governess. She is a touch too high and mighty for a mere servant.’

‘But she does so much above and beyond her duties,’ pointed out Jessica. ‘No one can cure your headaches like Miss Trumble. And look how good she was with Lizzie’s earache. We did not even have to call in the physician and so saved ourselves a deal of expense.’

‘True,’ admitted Lady Beverley. ‘But I shall remind her most strongly of her position in this household on her return.’

Three days later, Barry left as well, Lady Beverley having at last allowed him to go, the promise of a supply of free game being too much to turn down. Barry wondered, as he walked along the road to Hedgefield to join Miss Trumble at the Green Man, where a mere governess got all the money to travel by post-chaise, and she would need money as well to buy game on the road home. There certainly was a mystery about Miss Trumble.

So, if I dream I have you, I have you.

For, all our joys are but fantastical.

JOHN DONNE

Robert Sommerville was back at Tarrant Hall in a black and gloomy mood. He could not understand why his brain could not control his emotions. All logic screamed at him that Jessica Beverley was not worth a single thought, and yet it seemed to him that there was not a moment in the day when he did not ache for her. He had not even looked at other properties. He had no interest in anything. He felt as grey and overcast as if the winter weather had entered his very soul.

Honoria, who had welcomed him home with every comfort she could think of, was confident at first that he would ‘come to his senses,’ but as dreary day followed dreary day during which Robert barely spoke to her, Honoria began to lose confidence in herself for possibly the first time in her life. She began to wonder whether, if she had encouraged Robert in his courtship of Jessica, life would not have been better for her. And surely it could not be worse than it was at present! When, one week after his arrival, Robert came down to breakfast unshaven and in his dressing-gown, and did not shave or get dressed for the rest of that day, she began to despair.

‘Robert,’ she ventured almost timidly at dinner that evening as he slumped in his dining chair, ‘you appeared to enjoy the company of the Beverleys. Would it not raise your spirits to invite them back?’

She then winced as her brother suddenly smashed his fist down on the dining-table. ‘Do not mention the name Beverley in this house again!’ he roared. And, as if suddenly wearied by his burst of rage, he said in a milder voice that was more terrifying to his sister than any of his shouting, ‘We do not deal very well now, Honoria. I am too bored and fatigued with life to go searching for a new property. Perhaps you should go on an extended visit to Aunt Matilda in Bath. I believe she is looking for a companion.’

‘I am happy here,’ said Honoria miserably. But her brother was striding out of the room and did not hear her words.

‘Now, Barry,’ cautioned Miss Trumble as they saw the tall chimneys of Tarrant Hall rising above the trees, ‘if Miss Honoria Sommerville is there, we cannot count on a warm welcome. We are servants in her eyes, so we must not state our business if Mr Robert is not in residence, but find out his direction. He may have decided to stay in Oxford over the Christmas period. It is so difficult being a servant, is it not?’

‘Difficult for you, miss, or so it do seem. But for me, I have a comfortable enough billet at Brookfield House and enough to eat. A man cannot ask for more. But now, Miss Trumble, what about you? We stayed at the best posting houses and you were very much the great lady. It almost seems to me that you are but lately descended to the servant class.’

‘Flatterer,’ said Miss Trumble. ‘Perhaps I should have been an actress, were it not such a disreputable profession. No more, Barry. We are nearly there.’

Miss Trumble tried to keep up a brave front as Barry helped her down from the post-chaise. She paid the driver and then waited while Barry performed a tattoo on the brass door-knocker. Miss Trumble was suddenly assailed with doubts. Should Robert Sommerville be at home, then how should she introduce the real reason for her call? Governesses, no matter how genteel, were not welcome as visitors. Why had she been so silly as to have dismissed the post-chaise and driver? What could she say? How could she put it? ‘Er, Mr Sommerville, you should reconsider Jessica. I know she preferred a house to you, but she has been forced to change her mind about that matter because, as you know, Harry Devers nearly raped her. I am sure she loves you.’

To which he might be justified in replying, ‘Miss Jessica has proved herself mercenary once and is now doing so again. I am a rich man of estates and property, and she has no wealth worth speaking of. You are impertinent to come to my home to speak about this. I shall write to Lady Beverley and suggest that in future she keep a better rein on her staff.’

Of course he would not be so brutal as that, so ran Miss Trumble’s worried thoughts as the butler answered the door, inclined his head, took her card with the tips of his white-gloved fingers, dropped it on a silvery tray as if shaking loose a dead insect, and then marched up the stairs.

He had not asked her to step inside, but Miss Trumble had no intention of shivering on the step. She boldly stepped into the hall and sat down primly on a high-backed chair while Barry stood deferentially at her side, trying to look more like a footman and less like the outdoor servant that he was.

The butler came down the stairs and intoned, ‘Miss Sommerville will be pleased to receive you, ma’am. Be so good as to step this way.’

‘Stay here, Barry,’ murmured Miss Trumble. She felt more nervous than ever as she followed the butler up to the drawing room. Honoria Sommerville could hardly be expected to give a warm welcome to anyone from the Beverley household, least of all a mere servant.

But to her amazement, Honoria advanced to meet her, taffeta skirts rustling, hands outstretched in welcome. ‘My dear Miss Trumble, what a pleasant surprise! But you should have written in advance so that a room could be prepared for you. Why are you alone? Come and sit by the fire. The day is unpleasantly cold, is it not?’

Bewildered, Miss Trumble allowed herself to be pressed into a comfortable chair. ‘You are most kind. I am alone. I actually came to see Mr Sommerville.’

‘And so you shall. I shall be honoured if you would join us for dinner. How goes the family?’

‘The Beverleys are all well, I thank you.’ Miss Trumble decided that Honoria was being pleasant to her in order to find some way of using her, or tricking her. Then her heart sank as she thought she had hit on the real answer to this odd welcome. Honoria was confident that her brother wanted nothing more to do with the Beverleys. He was still in residence at Tarrant Hall, and that showed he had surely given up the idea of a separate establishment. Honoria was delighted to show this emissary from the Beverleys that they could give up all hopes of a match between her brother and Jessica.

By unspoken consent, they began to talk of politics, plays, and poetry. Honoria ordered tea for them and they passed a pleasant two hours. Barry had been given a room in the servants’ quarters, but, after tea, Miss Trumble was shown to one of the guest apartments and Honoria sent her lady’s-maid to attend to Miss Trumble’s comfort.

When the dinner gong sounded, Miss Trumble went down to the dining room, following the footman who had been sent to light her way with a branch of candles.

Robert Sommerville rose to his feet, his eyes wary and guarded. ‘How pleasant to see you, Miss Trumble,’ he said. He asked her questions about her journey and then, as his sister had done earlier, he began to talk of everything except the Beverley family. Poor Miss Trumble knew that soon she would have to ask if she could speak to him in private but did not quite know how to go about it. At last, she decided to enjoy her meal as best she could and seek him out in the morning. But when dinner was over and Honoria rose to lead Miss Trumble from the dining room, Robert said quietly, ‘Leave our guest with me, Honoria.’