Sally James (3 page)

‘Yes, Miss, but I ought - ‘

‘To sleep as much as you can, and get better quickly. I’ll see that you don’t starve. I’ll send Peg up with a drink. Where is her room?’

‘She’s two doors along, Miss, but the way she’s been carrying on she’ll be no good for anything!’

‘We’ll see about that!’ Susannah replied, a martial look in her eye, and marched firmly out of the room, the maid’s grey serge dress over her arm.

Peg, who was sprawled on her bed, sobbing convulsively, looked up in alarm when Susannah, after a sharp rap on the door, opened it and walked into the room.

‘You are Peg, I suppose?’ Susannah demanded and the girl, sniffing dolefully, nodded, her eyes widening with a mixture of puzzlement and apprehension.

‘Yes, Miss,’ she whispered after a pause.

‘Well, I don’t know why you, who are the only able-bodied female left in the house, can find nothing better to do than weep on your bed when there’s a dinner to be cooked and Maggie and Mrs Mansell to be cared for!’

Peg gasped and sat up.

‘I can’t do it all!’ she wailed. ‘I can’t cook no’ow. Mr Swale, ‘e’s locked ‘issen in the pantry, and I’m afeared!’

‘I can’t think what of,’ Susannah snapped contemptuously. ‘But now I’m here you won’t have to cook, for Mrs Skinner is coming and all you need do is what we tell you. Now pull yourself together, Peg, for I need your help.’

‘Please, Miss, I can’t!’ Peg repeated and began to sob.

‘You are hysterical, and the best way to deal with hysterics is to throw water over the patient,’ Susannah said calmly. ‘Do you want me to do that?’

Peg glared at her and gulped, but she stilled her sobs.

‘No, Miss.’

‘Then get up, wash your face and come down to the kitchen. Hasten, because I’m going to wait for you,’ she added as the girl did not move. Resentfully Peg got to her feet and splashed her face with cold water from the jug sitting on the small washstand by the window.

Susannah waited, and nodded encouragingly as Peg turned, ready to accompany her downstairs.

‘Go down, and if Mrs Skinner or the head gardener have come, tell them I will be but a minute. I must change out of my habit.’

She watched Peg precede her down the stairs and then went through to the front part of the house and in one of the main bedrooms swiftly discarded her habit and donned the gown she had borrowed from Maggie. Fortunately she was both slimmer and taller than Maggie, and though the dress revealed rather more of her shapely ankles than was strictly decorous, she cared little about such niceties and was soon running down the stairs to the kitchen.

Mrs Skinner had just arrived and was looking bewildered, trying to make sense of the story Peg was regaling her with. Susannah cut her short and swiftly explained the situation to Mrs Skinner.

‘So you see, I need your help,’ she concluded. ‘What can we cook for dinner?’

Fortunately Mrs Skinner was a sensible woman and immediately began to make plans.

‘I’ll look in the larder and the still room to see what there is,’ she said firmly. ‘I used to work here, Miss Susannah, so I know my way around. Still room maid, I was, until I married Skinner, and doubtless I’d have been cook in time. We’ll contrive.’

The next few hours were desperately busy, but gradually some order emerged and a respectable selection of dishes suitable for a bachelor dinner party began to appear. Peg, scolded by Mrs Skinner and urged on to greater efforts by Susannah, was set to preparing the vegetables reluctantly provided by the gardener, while Susannah rolled up her sleeves and mixed pastry for pies and tarts.

When Peg had finished the vegetables she was sent up to make beds, for Mrs Skinner suggested that, even if they had not intended to remain the night, the young gentlemen would almost certainly need to, and they might as well be prepared.

‘And make one up for me in the blue room,’ Susannah added. ‘My habit is there, and I will sleep there tonight, for it will be too late for me to return to The Hall.’

Mrs Skinner looked doubtful.

‘Had you not best go before they arrive, Miss Susannah?’ she asked when Peg had disappeared.

‘Then who will serve at table? I am hoping to persuade Carter to play butler, but he needs some help and Peg would be utterly useless. I can play the maid in the dining room as well as here. Neither of them know me, and someone must do it.’

Carter added his protests to those of Mrs Skinner when he heard this scheme, but Susannah was adamant and realizing that what she said was true he reluctantly agreed to aid her. He went off to get out the wine and silver and prepare the table, smiling grimly as Susannah called after him to say she would make certain Julian increased his wages after tonight.

Miraculously, all was ready, and Julian appeared, once more apparently sober, and with Carter’s skilled aid immaculately dressed in a well cut, closely fitting dress coat and pantaloons. His shirt points were so high and heavily starched that he had difficulty in turning his head, and his snowy cravat was arranged in the intricate folds of the Mathematical. Cynically Susannah wondered how Carter had persuaded Julian to submit to having his cravat tied for him, since she could have sworn, after a close look at him, that he was incapable of concentrating sufficiently to arrange it himself.

Susannah had seized the time to tidy herself and Peg had produced one of the neat black gowns and frilly white aprons the maids wore when helping in the dining room and which had been left behind by one of the girls who had been sent to the London house. It was even shorter than Maggie’s but there was no time to let down the hem and Susannah consoled herself that no one looked at the servants helping at table. She combed her curls back ruthlessly, smoothing them flat with water and pinning on the cap to hide as much as possible. Julian surveyed her in astonishment.

‘Why are you rigged out like that?’ he demanded.

She curtsied mockingly.

‘I’m Maggie for tonight, me lud!’

‘Maggie? What do you mean? The wench is ill.’

‘Oh, Julian, are you still under the hatches?’ she asked wearily. ‘Carter is to act butler and I’m to help him, for there’s no one else.’

He was beginning to protest when the sound of carriage wheels came to them, and Susannah shook her head, bade him not to forget himself and whisked out of the room to check that all was under control in the kitchen. Mrs Skinner assured her she could manage and had even had time to send Peg with trays to Mrs Mansell and Maggie. Swale, she reported, had recovered his senses a little while ago, but had been incapable of doing more than staggering, with considerable help from Carter and her, up to his bed, where he was snoring loudly. Susannah grinned and commented that he would suffer enough when he awoke, then went to ensure all was prepared in the dining room.

As she had thought, the
.
visitors paid her no attention when she began to help Carter serve the various dishes. Julian had given her one pained look and then averted his eyes, ignoring her, and she was able to study his friends curiously.

The taller of the two, Lord Chalford, was rather older than Julian and Susannah guessed him to be in his early thirties. He was broad shouldered, with a deep chest and muscular thighs his perfectly cut clothes did little to hide. She gathered from the talk that he had driven the ten miles from his home in his curricle, but despite that he was even more impeccably dressed than Julian. His shirt points were not so high, which Susannah thought an advantage, but his cravat was exquisitely arranged, with a small but obviously costly diamond pin set amongst its folds, matching the huge ring that sparkled on his finger. His dark hair was cut
a la Titus
and his powerful shoulders needed no padding, unlike the slender, pale young man who sat at the far side of the table. Percy Tempest, who lived a few miles away, was a year or so younger than Julian, and Susannah detected an incipient dandyism in his dress and manners. He was clearly somewhat in awe of his fellow guest, for he kept glancing deprecatingly at him and hastened to agree with whatever Lord Chalford said, smiling nervously with his full, girlish lips and continually touching his hair or cravat to reassure himself they were still tidy.

Susannah compared their faces. The younger man was fair and somewhat effeminate, contrasting greatly with Lord Chalford’s strong, well defined features. His eyes were a deep blue, almost violet, and he looked with unnerving intensity at whoever was speaking, scarcely bothering to hide his disdainful amusement at some of the more pathetic attempts made by Mr Tempest to impress him.

It appeared, from their conversation, that he was on his way to visit his uncle, and Susannah was surprised to learn this was no other than Sir William Andrews, the portly baronet who was paying court to Amanda and who lived a few miles past The Hall, nearer to London. When Lord Chalford made a slighting reference to the fact that his uncle had informed him he was about to marry some chit of an heiress, Susannah almost forgot her role and had to bite back the retort that Sir William appeared to take too much for granted.

Eventually the meal was over and Julian took his guests into the library, his own particular favourite room, and Susannah, despite Carter’s protests, helped him to clear away the remains of the feast. She sent Peg up to bed, saying she could wash the dishes in the morning, and warmly thanked Mrs Skinner for her invaluable help.

‘Would you like me to sleep here, Miss?’ the woman asked.

‘Why ever should you do that?’ Susannah asked in surprise. ‘Do you not care to walk through the park so late? There is an almost full moon.’

Mrs Skinner muttered darkly that she was not afraid for herself, but Carter had told her the young gentlemen were drinking deeply and she thought Miss Susannah might not wish to be left alone.

Susannah laughed and shook her head.

‘I shall be perfectly safe and I would not dream of keeping you from your family any longer. I could not have done it but for you, and when my brother is sober enough to understand, you can be sure I will tell him what he owes you! Now you must go, and thank you!’

Carter seemed to have disappeared, so Susannah locked the doors, damped down the kitchen fire and made sure all was safe, then took a candle and went upstairs. Exhausted, she sank down into a chair beside the fire which Peg had lit, too weary to begin to undress. Faintly, the sound of voices and occasional laughter came to her, for the library was below her room, and she guessed the men were gambling. She hoped Julian would be capable of making his own way to bed at the end of the evening, but ruefully accepted it was highly probable the three of them would spend the night on the library floor. She shrugged, and was trying to convince herself the effort of undressing was not too great when Julian’s voice, upraised, came to her.

‘Carter! Where the devil are you, man? Bring more brandy!’

There was a short silence, but apparently Carter had not heard the command, for after a while Julian began shouting again.

Wearily Susannah dragged herself to her feet, knowing she would be unable to sleep unless she contrived to quieten him, and went downstairs in search of Carter. She discovered him in the butler’s pantry. After his loyal and unstinting efforts of the day, he had apparently succumbed to the prevailing hysteria and lay comatose in a deep armchair, the empty bottle beside him bearing witness to his final surrender. She frowned: she would have to take the brandy herself, and fortunately there was a full decanter there. Picking it up she made her way to the library.

The men were sprawled around a small table, throwing dice, and had discarded their coats. Julian’s cravat was torn loose and his shirt points wilted lamentably. Percy Tempest was in little better condition, but Lord Chalford, apart from being in shirt sleeves, was as immaculate as before. They paid no attention to the opening door until Julian sprang up with an oath, upsetting his glass as he did so.

‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded furiously and Susannah frowned warningly at him.

‘Mr Carter was unable to come, my lord,’ she said quickly.

‘Fortunate for us,’ Lord Chalford said lazily, raising a quizzing glass that winked in the candlelight from the diamond-studded handle and looking her up and down through it in a manner that made her suddenly long to slap his face.

She was horribly conscious of the too short skirts of her gown, but did not realize many tendrils of hair had escaped from their confinement and were enchantingly framing her exceedingly pretty face, flushed now with anger and embarrassment. She closed her lips firmly, but failed to hide their inviting shape, and trying to ignore the men went to put the brandy down on the table.

To her astonishment, a surprise swiftly followed by fury, she felt Lord Chalford’s arm about her waist as he pulled her to stand beside him.

‘I congratulate you, Julian,’ he drawled. ‘I’ve not come across so delectable a wench for many a long day.’

‘Release me, sir!’ Susannah commanded, flashing him a darting glance from her large, vivid blue eyes, edged with thick, long lashes.

He merely laughed and pulled her closer.

‘Coy, my pretty? Julian!’ he went on, turning towards his host, who was looking at him owlishly. ‘I’ll hazard my ring for this wench! Will you play?’

Susannah gasped in fury and tore herself away from his embrace. She glared angrily at Julian, but he seemed scarcely aware of what Lord Chalford said and she realized she could expect no help from him. She suppressed the retort she would have liked to have made, being unwilling to reveal the deception, and went angrily from the room, coldly informing them they could fetch any more brandy they required for themselves. Her cheeks burned as Lord Chalford’s deep laughter came after her.

She ran upstairs, briefly regretting she had refused Mrs Skinner’s company, then reassured herself that Julian would not permit so notorious a bet. Further, she told herself, even if he was too drunk to realize what he was doing and Lord Chalford later came in search of her, he would hardly expect to find her in one of the best bedrooms. That made her think of the maids and she sped up the stairs to warn them to lock their doors, saying the party was growing too wild for her liking. Then she retreated to her own room, turned the key and thankfully saw there was also a stout bolt, which she thrust home. Shivering, telling herself it was from cold and fury rather than fear, she hastily undressed and got beneath the covers.