A Banbury Tale (17 page)

“No harm?” repeated Letty incredulously. “You say that when my graceless niece”—she glared at Maddy— “has brought a Paphian girl into my house? When my son has conceived a tendre for the wretched creature?”

“I shall say a great deal more,” Agatha snapped, “when you collect your wits sufficiently to invite me to sit down.” Feebly, Letty gestured toward a chair. “Now,” said the Duchess, settling herself, “we shall go on much more prosperously if you cease talking fustian and let yourself be guided by me.”

“Fustian!” Letty gasped. “Can you be so indifferent, so heartless, as to condemn a mother’s natural feelings? I am cast into despair!” She glowered at Maddy. “My son has been ensnared by a designing female, which may doubtless be laid at my niece’s door.” She glared at Maddy. “I welcomed you into my home, miss, and this is my reward!”

“Is that why you did it?” The Duchess expressed interest. “I admit to curiosity. What manner of reward did you expect?” Letty stared at her in speechless fury, and Agatha grinned. “Don’t fly into a pelter,” she advised. “As for the other one, you refine too much upon the matter. Her profession may be unwisely chosen, but she’s not yet bachelor’s fare. As for that, where is she?”

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Alathea ventured, “to learn that she’s closeted with Kenelm in his room.”

“Cousin,” cried Maddy, goaded beyond endurance, “you have a wicked tongue!”

Letty shrieked again. “Unmaidenly,” Agatha announced, though without severity. Her glance moved to Letty. “As for you, Laetetia, you exhibit an unbecoming violence of feeling. If you don’t wish us to get to dagger-drawing, you will cease these squawks and moans, and listen to me, for I can fix things up all right and tight.”

“How?” Letty exhibited a faint show of interest. “There will be a terrible scandal if it becomes known I have had an actress in my house!”

“Who’s to know? Your servants think her a schoolmate of Madeleine’s.” The Duchess had little time to spare for such megrims. “They will continue to think so unless you arouse their suspicions.”

“That female,” said Letty forcefully, “is not to stay another instant in this house!” Her glance fell upon her niece. “Nor will you, miss! You may return to your father. I am sure he will know just how to deal with you.”

“I daresay he might,” Agatha interjected, “but we will spare him that particular task. I came to collect the other chit, but Madeleine, too, may come with me.” The black eyes twinkled at Maddy. “I collect I can find some use for her. You won’t berate me for my choice of abigail, will you, girl?”

Maddy, aware of the significance of this statement as Letty was not, smiled. “Not at all, ma’am.” Not only was this a perfect solution to Clem’s dilemma, but it afforded a splendid opportunity to see a great deal more of Lionel and the Earl, for both gentlemen treated the Duchess of Marlborough’s home as their own. Maddy did not stop to consider that Clem might not care for this summary disposition of her fate.

“I trust,” added the Duchess, regarding Letty and Alathea severely, “that no word of this discussion will be noised abroad. I should hear of it, you know, and I should be
most
unhappy. As for the actress, you may safely leave it to me to find some suitable place for her.”

Even Alathea, who was not pleased to see Maddy escape so lightly, knew what Agatha’s displeasure must entail. An adverse comment from that lady was sufficient to bring total ostracism.

“And what are we to say about my niece’s sudden removal?” Letty inquired. “It looks exceedingly odd.”

“Not at all,” retorted the Duchess. “I am so delighted with my young friend that I have taken her to stay with me. It is not widely known, but I am an old acquaintance of the family.” She studied Letty. “Or if you prefer, I might say that I did not care for the laxity of your chaperonage.”

“Oh, very well,” Letty capitulated sulkily. “Do what you will with the both of them. I do not propose to bother my head further with this.”

“That,” said the Duchess, “is perhaps the wisest decision that you have ever made.”

* * * *

Much as the Duchess enjoyed excitement, there were limits to what her constitution could withstand—one reason her godson had developed a tendency to cosset her. She scowled. Aggravating a creature as Micah was, she could wish that she still enjoyed his company. Matters were moving out of control. Not only was she suddenly saddled with two young females—both of good birth, one with a damaged reputation, and the other with a lamentable lack of discretion—but Mathilda had still not returned.

One look at Clemence had been sufficient to inform Agatha that the actress would not be long contented with the role of a lady’s maid, and though Agatha didn’t for a moment regret her impulsive rescue, she wondered what she was to do with the girl. Her plans for the de Villiers chit were more precise, but there was also something smoky there
.
The Duchess had a sharp nose for mischief, and didn’t doubt that Maddy was into it up to her pretty ears. There was that advantage to having the girl under her care: Maddy wouldn’t remain long with Agatha before that astute lady learned her entire life history.

There was advantage, too, in the presence of Motley, whom Agatha fancied would make an excellent ally. At least the arrival of these additional guests had given her reason to turn her household upside down with preparations for their comfort. The servants, scurrying willy-nilly about in a frenzied attempt to obey her peremptory, and contradictory, orders, would have little time to reflect upon Lady Tyrewhitte-Wilson’s absence.

James had not yet returned. The Duchess racked her brain for others who might possess sufficient wit to aid her in this dilemma, but could think of none whom she might trust with Tilda’s reputation. There was nothing for it; she must write immediately to her godson and request his swift return.

The composition of this urgent epistle proved difficult, but Agatha enjoyed uninterrupted solitude through the penning of five alternate versions. It was as she tore the last of these into shreds, murmuring profanities, that the door behind her opened and closed quietly.

Agatha was reluctant to turn and confront her visitor, lest it be some other petitioner with a claim on her time. The Duchess considered she had meddled sufficiently for one day, and she had little heart for the machinations that were usually her joy; fear for Tilda preyed on her mind.

“I daresay,” commented a soft voice, “that you are excessively vexed with me?”

The Duchess swung around. “Where have you been, you
odious
girl?!”

Tilda laughed, and moved forward to embrace her friend. “Thereby hangs a tale! You will be greatly diverted, I promise you.” She moved aside to inspect a pile of cards and invitations that lay upon a silver tray. “Just as I thought.” She extracted an envelope that bore an impressive masculine scrawl. “You’ve only yourself to blame for your ignorance regarding my affairs.”

Agatha accepted the missive and studied her companion. “You don’t look as if you’ve suffered any great harm,” she conceded grudgingly, “which is more than you deserve. I don’t hesitate to tell you that I am very cross with you.”

Tilda removed the voluminous cloak that hid her evening dress. “I knew that you would be, and I apologize most abjectly, but it truly wasn’t my fault.” She paused judiciously. “Or it was, but I intended you no anxiety. At the outset, I only meant it for a lark.” She watched Agatha’s thin fingers tighten on the parchment. “Don’t distress yourself! I continue very well, and have suffered no harm but to my self-esteem.” She wrinkled her nose. “Micah would say that I have been well served.”

“Do stop this prattling,” interrupted the Duchess, “and tell me what’s transpired!”

“Only fancy,” Tilda retorted, “I’ve been abducted! And the cream of the jest is that it all occurred through my own stupidity. You must believe that I am properly chastened, and try not to read me a severe scold.”

“The deuce you say!” roared Agatha. Tilda sighed.

“Yes,” she said. “I rather thought you’d take it like that. Recall that you
did
say I was wanting in dash.”

“I think,” the Duchess advised, in goaded tones, “that you would be wise to cease from pitching me any more gammon and come out with the truth!”

Tilda overlooked this vulgarity. “You will recall mention of a certain hotel?” Agatha nodded. “No one would take me there. Timothy said I would not like it. Micah said I should like it, but refused to escort me, for no ladies of any reputation visit there.” She glanced at her friend. “Of course their refusals merely strengthened my resolve.”

“Of course.” Agatha’s tone was dry. “You’re wild to a fault, my girl. Go on!”

Tilda closed her eyes. “So I prevailed upon Alastair to escort me, since he first told me of the place. I did not dare confide in you. I suspected you would throw a rub in | my way.”

“And well you might!” snapped Agatha. “Alastair Bechard is a basket-scrambler!”

“Agatha, such vulgar expressions! No, don’t pinch at me. Everything went off very well, and I was congratulating myself, when I discovered that Alastair had different plans for my entertainment.” The Duchess noted that Mathilda’s expression bore traces of shock. “Agatha, he forced me into an establishment of ill repute!”

The Duchess sat bolt upright. “He what!”

Tilda laughed. “Never fear: my virtue’s intact, and entirely thanks to you. Alastair somehow learned that Miss de Villiers is involved with his actress, and lays the blame for that bird’s flight at Maddy’s door. He did not tell me so, but I have had a great deal of time in which to ponder the matter, and believe my assumption to be correct. He remained in that accursed place only long enough to direct a note to you, then left me to the mercy of my jailors, whose companionship was far preferable to his.” She glanced at the letter. “Do read it, Agatha! I am curious to learn what it says.”

The Duchess perused the missive with tightened lips, then tore it into small pieces and consigned it to the fire. Tilda’s guess was right; Alastair had foreseen that Maddy would apply to Agatha for aid, and he had also known that Clem had received refuge in Letty Jellicoe’s house. His terms for Tilda’s release were diabolically succinct: when the runaway was handed over to him, Lady Tyrewhitte-Wilson would be restored to her friends. He did not need to elaborate upon the alternative; it would not have been the first time that a noblewoman had taken up residence in a house of ill repute. “My God!” she uttered, with furious contempt. “Alastair Bechard shall pay for this.”

“You must not think I was in great danger,” Tilda said quickly. She reached into her reticule. “I realize I have been very foolish, but I am not quite such a ninny as I must appear. I know Alastair bears no great love for me.”

Agatha eyed the delicate pistol that Tilda held. “Much good that did you!” she snorted. “Get on with the tale.”

“I was nearly in despair,” Tilda admitted, “when the, uh, proprietress of the establishment visited me. What do you call such a female, Agatha? A procuress? An abbess?”

“
You
should have no need to call ‘em anything,” Agatha retorted, “since you shouldn’t even know that they exist. Get on with it! For I don’t imagine that this female willingly allowed you to escape. Alastair no doubt paid her handsomely for her part in it.”

“Oh, he did. She told me so.” Tilda’s eyes twinkled. “Agatha, she was the drollest creature! I’m sure you must agree. For she did help me to escape, as soon as I told her my name.”

“What’s this?” The Duchess entertained lively suspicion as to the abbess’s identity.

“I own I might have found myself in a terrible fix,” Tilda continued, the twinkle even more pronounced, “and must hold it to be a piece of astonishingly good fortune that the lady is acquainted with you, for I am sure that otherwise things would have gone ill with me. Agatha, you sly creature, what other fascinating friends have you kept hidden from me? For as soon as she realized that I was an intimate of yours, she was only too anxious to have me go.”

“Did she tell you,” Agatha inquired, with no small curiosity, “that she was acquainted with me?”

“Yes, but you must not blame her.” Tilda laughed. “I refused to leave her establishment until I knew the reason for my release.” She sobered suddenly. “Even then, it was no easy matter, for I could not simply walk outside and whistle for a cab. It was brilliant of you to send James looking for me, Agatha. When he appeared, I was near panic that Alastair might return. But I escaped safely enough, and James very properly escorted me home.”

The Duchess drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. James must be rewarded handsomely, as well as Mother Murphy, though Agatha had no doubt that astute businesswoman was now the possessor of the magnificent rubies that Tilda no longer wore. “Alastair Bechard is a villain,” she said. “I had not thought that even he would stoop to such treachery.”

“Nor I.” Despite the lightness of her tone, Tilda was not unaware of her narrow escape, nor did she begrudge the baubles that had been Dominic’s last gift.

“I think I must make you aware of what transpired in your absence.” The Duchess explained her increased household. She was not deceived by Tilda’s apparent levity, for no amount of assumed nonchalance could disguise the paleness of that complexion or the strain around the fine brown eyes.

“Gracious!” remarked Tilda, when her friend had done. “This is the devil of a coil. With Micah gone, what’s to prevent Alastair from looking for the girl here?” She grimaced. “I’d give my fortune not to see his face when he finds I’ve escaped his net, but it seems we may find him on our doorstep momentarily.”

“He wouldn’t dare!” Agatha tugged at the bell cord.

“No?” Tilda’s tone was dry. “I begin to think that there is nothing that Alastair will not dare.”

“He’s no more anxious for a scandal than you are,” Agatha insisted. “You need not fear your adventure will become known. I’m more concerned with what he’ll do about his actress. I wager he won’t give up easily, and it won’t be long before he learns from Letty that I took her away.”

“Agreed.” Tilda studied the Duchess. It was obvious that the dowager was hatching a plan.