Anna Jacobs (19 page)

“But my dear, there must be something wrong. Is it Serle? How has he upset you?”

“Mr Serle? Upset me? Of course not. Please don’t think that. He’s been extremely k-kind to me. It’s not him, it’s me! I’m just - homesick. You know I don’t like all this - this fuss and sociability. And I haven’t really enjoyed London, either, though you’ve been quite wonderful to me.”

“But why rush off home like this? Why now, so suddenly?”

“I told you. I feel homesick. And as for now, well, at the moment you have Jennice to look after. How proud you’ll be to become the grandmother of twins!”

“Bea, dear - “

“Oh, Johanna, please don’t try to stop me! I need to go home!” Tears welled in Beatrice’s eyes. “Please, just let me go home!”

She sounded so agonized that Johanna stopped trying to argue, merely clasping her hand and saying quietly, “I don’t know what’s upsetting you, my love, and I’m not going to pry into your private affairs, but please believe me that if I can ever help you in any way, I shall be very happy to do so.”

That started Beatrice’s tears falling again and she threw her arms round her cousin and sobbed incoherently into her shoulder. But she still wouldn’t say what had happened between herself and Serle.

And she was still insistent on returning home.

Chapter 10

As the carriage bowled along the highway in the early summer sunshine, Tilly tried to make herself invisible in the corner so as to leave her mistress in peace with her thoughts. She didn’t know what Mr Serle had done to upset Miss Dencey, but whatever it was, he shouldn’t have done it and the trouble must be his fault, because Miss Dencey was the kindest mistress as ever lived, and why she wasn’t married, with a home of her own, Tilly didn’t know, for she was as pretty as she was kind.

When they arrived in Satherby village, she saw Miss Dencey take a deep breath, as if pulling herself together, then turn to her.

‘You cannot help but have noticed, Tilly, that I - well, I’m not feeling very happy at the moment and - and you’ve perhaps guessed that it concerns Mr Serle. I’d be grateful, very grateful indeed, if you would not discuss my problems - not even to hint about things - with the other servants.’

‘I hope I know how to behave better than that, Miss.’

‘Thank you.’ Miss Dencey put her hands up to check her bonnet. ‘Is this straight, Tilly?’

‘Just a minute, Miss. Let me tie the ribbons again. There you are! And a proper treat you look, too.’ But how sad her mistress’s expression was!

When the carriage pulled up inside the front portico, Tilly got out and looked round, trying to take in everything, absolutely determined to do credit to Miss Dencey. The front doors were so enormous she couldn’t help staring up at them in awe. And Borrill, the butler, was flanked by two tall footmen, with superior expressions.

Tilly clasped her hands in front of her, which Sarah said was the best thing to do with them if you had nothing to hold, and followed her mistress inside, trying not to show her own nervousness.

Miss Dencey was just turning towards the right when there was a shriek of joy and a young lady in pink almost tumbled down the stairs in her haste to fling herself into the newcomer’s arms and pelt her with questions.

That would be Lady Eleanor, Tilly guessed, the niece Miss Dencey had brought up, the one she was so fond of. She watched with great interest as the two ladies embraced, seeing a distinct resemblance between them: both were tall, with lovely hair of exactly the same shade, though Miss Dencey’s was more stylishly cut.

When the younger woman gestured towards the stairs, Miss Dencey shook her head. They younger one pulled a face then they went off in the other direction together. Miss Dencey didn’t want to be alone with her niece yet, in Tilly’s opinion.

An older woman in rustling black, with a massive key chain at her waist came round the corner just then and made straight for the newcomer.

‘I’m Mrs Inchby, the housekeeper.’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’

‘You’re Miss Beatrice’s new maid, I believe? Tilly, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, Mrs Inchby. I’m Tilly Hulls and I used to work for Lady Ostdene before Miss Dencey took me on.’ She knew that housekeepers preferred staff who had been with the family for a while. In some country houses, only relatives of staff or offspring of tenants of the estate could get jobs at all.

The housekeeper’s expression relaxed slightly. ‘Our Miss Johanna, as we still think of her. Is she keeping well?’

‘Oh, yes, Mrs Inchby, very well.’

‘And how long did you work for her?’

‘Since I was fourteen, Ma’am. Eight years. I started off as a junior housemaid, but her ladyship’s maid, Sarah, has been training me up for a lady’s maid and now I’m to work for Miss Dencey.’

‘We call her Miss Beatrice here.’

‘Yes, Mrs Inchby. I’ll remember that.’

‘Well, you seem to know your manners. Are you good at your trade, Tilly?’

She hesitated, then decided the truth would be safer. ‘I’m still learning it, Mrs Inchby, but Miss Den- Miss Beatrice, I mean, seems pleased with my work and I’ll do my best not to let anyone down, I’m sure.’

Mrs Inchby nodded again. She’d already guessed that the girl wasn’t a properly-trained lady’s maid. She was too cheerful and honest. Experienced lady’s maids often had an exaggerated notion of their own worth, which was probably why Miss Beatrice had chosen this one, because likely she just wanted someone cheerful and pleasant to look after her clothes, as one of the young maids had done before she left.

‘Well, Tilly, I’ll take you up to your mistress’s rooms now and you can unpack her things while I’m having a bedroom prepared for you. We’re well housed and fed here. The family looks after its own, so see you serve them well in return. And if you have any problems or questions, come to me with them.’

Tilly followed Mrs Inchby upstairs, very impressed by the size of Satherby, but amazed at how old its furnishings were. You’d think they could afford new curtains and some more modern furniture than these dark old things! As for the suits of armour, they fair gave her the creeps, for they looked ready to leap out at you. And it wasn’t very nice to stick swords and spears all over the walls, was it? Plain unfriendly, if you asked her.

* * * *

Downstairs, Beatrice was endeavouring to answer the questions her aunt threw at her. She thought she was doing quite well, but after a while, Lady Marguerite dismissed Eleanor.

“Now, give me a round tale, Beatrice. Why have you returned so unexpectedly? Has something happened? Have you received an offer?”

“No. I just - I was homesick, Aunt Marguerite, and - and I think I’ve completed your commission with regard to Eleanor, though I haven’t f-found a husband for myself - and well, I wanted to come home.” She had to gulp back a sob, she felt so desolate still.

“Hmmph! What about the chit, then? Whom have you decided upon?”

Her aunt’s fragile appearance only emphasized that Beatrice had made the right decision, but even so, she had to force the words out. “I thought - Mr Serle. He is superior in every way to the other gentlemen I met.”

“Aha! I thought he would be! Good stock, the Serles, except for that worthless cousin of his, and he must take after his mother’s side! Pity young Peter Serle got himself killed at Waterloo. Why they didn’t execute that murderer, Bonaparte, when he started all the fighting up again, instead of sending him to live in comfort on another of those islands, I’ll never know. He’ll find some way of escaping again, you mark my words!” She sat back and looked smugly at her niece. “Anyway, I’ve already invited him down for a visit.”

“Who?” Beatrice was still thinking of Bonaparte.

“Serle, of course!”

Beatrice felt the blood drain from her face and the room wavered round her, so that she had to clutch the arm of her chair. But her aunt’s eyesight wasn’t good and the old lady didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

“I didn’t want to wait any longer and you were shilly-shallying about, so I took matters into my own hands. Serle should receive the invitation today. I sent one of the grooms across country with it. I don’t trust those mails. Never have. I knew Serle’s grandmother quite well, you know, because we came out together, but she didn’t make old bones, poor Elizabeth. Knew her son, too, Serle’s father. And his mother. I should have just trusted in his breeding in the first place and sent for him.”

Beatrice swallowed hard and forced some words out, “Well, then, we shall - shall have to s-see whether he accepts your invitation or not.” But she prayed fervently he would not. She couldn’t imagine how she would ever face him again without giving herself away.

A smile flickered over the Dowager’s face. “Oh, I think he’ll come! But I won’t tell him why he’s been invited until he’s met Eleanor and I’ve had time to look him over myself.” She frowned. “But what about you? Why haven’t you got yourself engaged? Wasn’t the dowry large enough?”

Beatrice blushed bright scarlet. “It was more than enough! Far too much for me! They - some of the men I met, that is - were only interested in the money. I just didn’t, I - “ She fumbled to a halt for a moment, then managed to find the strength to say bluntly, “Aunt, I tried, I really did, but you know I never liked the idea of your buying me a husband. It makes me feel very uncomfortable. And besides, I think I’d prefer to remain single.”

“Hmm. We’ll see about that. But not now. You look tired, girl. That’s what London does to you. Too many late nights and too much racketing around. I must say you’re well turned out, though. That colour suits you. Trust Johanna for that. She has an excellent eye for style and colour.” She waved one hand dismissively. “Anyway, we’ll discuss your future another time.”

Beatrice managed to mutter some platitude.

Almost as an afterthought, the Dowager asked, “Oh, before I forget, how’s that younger daughter of Johanna’s? Breeding, ain’t she?”

“Yes. And the doctor told them just before I left that she was probably expecting twins.”

“Twins, eh? Good girl! That’s doing your duty with a vengeance.” She chuckled at the thought. “Of course, twins run in the Graceover family. And in the Denceys, too.”

“Good heavens!” said Beatrice faintly. “On both sides?”

“Oh, yes. Good stock, you see. Mind, twins do give you a bit more trouble and they’re harder to rear. I had twin brothers myself.” Her expression became sad for a moment, then she sniffed and banished those memories. “Well, as it turns out, I’m not displeased that you’ve come home. I was going to send for you anyway. I should have known better than to expect you to manage things for me, though I’m sure you did your best. You’re too gentle for your own good, Beatrice, and always have been. Like your father. Never could stand up for himself, poor Warren. And you’re exactly the same.” It didn’t seem to occur to her that she flew into tantrums with people who did try to stand up to her.

Beatrice bit her lip, but said nothing.

“So,” continued the Dowager with great cheerfulness, “I’ve decided to take a hand in things myself.”

Beatrice closed her eyes and prayed for patience. Whatever her ladyship said or did, she didn’t intend to marry a man whom she didn’t respect, just because her aunt had arranged it. Or one she didn’t love, a voice whispered in her head, but she refused to listen to that. Love was out of her reach now.

“I’ve got myself a maid at last,” she announced, trying to divert her aunt’s attention from the subject of husbands.

The Dowager allowed herself to be diverted and listened to the story of Tilly’s trial and appointment, approving the idea of a lady’s maid in principle, but reserving judgment until she’d met the girl. She then allowed Beatrice to guide the conversation toward clothes and listened with an appearance of interest to a description of the ravishing ensembles Odette had designed for her, not to mention the elaborate court dress and its accompanying feathers. “ ... though I’m afraid Odette was very expensive,” Beatrice wound up apologetically.

Lady Marguerite dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “Persons such as ourselves must dress to suit our station in life and to set an example to others.”

“I think,” said Beatrice, when she had run out of clothes and bonnets to describe, “I’d like to go and change my clothes now, Aunt Marguerite. Travelling always makes one feel so grubby.”

“Yes, you do that, girl!” The Dowager watched her go, still with that affable smile on her face, but it faded once the door had closed behind her niece.

“I should have known that she was too shy to look after her own interests,” she said aloud when she was alone. “Well, I still have a few surprises up my sleeve, Miss, as you’ll shortly find out. Lippings, bring me my writing materials and tell them I need another groom to deliver a message.”

* * * *

To her dismay, Beatrice found Eleanor in her bedroom, getting acquainted with Tilly and examining the new clothes.

“I hope you don’t mind, Bea. I couldn’t wait to see your London things!”

“Of course I don’t mind. Thank you, Tilly. You may leave us for a while.”

Eleanor started fiddling with a pair of gloves. “Was Grandmamma pleased with what you did in London, Bea?”

“What do you know about that?” Her voice came out more sharply than she’d intended.

Eleanor opened her eyes very wide. “Nothing much, Bea, just that Grandmamma wished you to undertake some commissions for her in London, did she not?”

Beatrice forced herself to stay calm. She was seeing problems where there were none, she told herself firmly. “Well, I think I did what she wished, more or less, anyway. Though she really wanted me to find myself a husband.”

“I thought so. And was there no one you liked?”

“Not enough. Anyway, I doubt I’m the marrying kind.” Beatrice was pleased that she had managed to speak lightly. “How do you like my new clothes?”