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Authors: Miss Chartley's Guided Tour

BOOK: Carla Kelly
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Do
you think she was more concerned about the vase or the viscount?”
murmured Hugh as he watched the carnage in the hall.


Oh,
Hugh! Do behave!” exclaimed Omega, not knowing where to
turn.

Twinings
recovered himself sufficiently to run to the door and shout, “Help!
Murder! Murder!” at the top of his lungs. His intentions were
earnest, but fear had raised his voice one octave and his cry of
desperation was scarcely audible.

Omega looked
about her. To her mind, the housekeeper was better left alone. And
as long as Twinings gathered no more breath, they were in no
immediate danger from the constable. Omega threw herself to her
knees and grasped Matthew by the shoulders. She turned him over so
he was laying faceup, his head in her lap.


Dios mío”
exclaimed Angela, “is he dead?”


No,
and more’s the pity,” said Omega through gritted teeth, amazed at
the sudden anger that washed through her whole body. She regarded
him with some satisfaction. Blood dripped steadily from Matthew
Bering’s nose and deckled his snowy waistcoat and the intricate
stock he had obviously taken great pains to tie. His nose was
pushed slightly to one side, and his eye was already beginning to
blacken.

Omega untied the
stock about his neck, wiped the blood around his nose, and pinched
the nostrils between her thumb and forefinger. “Open your mouth,
Matthew, if you have any intention of breathing,” she
commanded.

He did as she
bade him, and opened his eyes too, or at least the eye he could
still open. “
Who
is making that unholy racket?” he managed
to ask.


Your
butler.”

Matthew rose
slightly in her lap. “Twinings,” he croaked, “stop that infernal
noise!”

The butler looked
at the viscount and shuddered. “I can have the constable here in an
instant, my lord! We have been set upon by thieves!”


Oh,
stow it somewhere!” said the viscount, and flopped his head back.
He touched his swelling eye, wincing and muttering something
perfectly awful.

The butler
remained where he was by the door until Hugh started toward him, a
purposeful glint in his eye. “Oh, Angela, this is famous!”
whispered Jamie.

With a shriek,
the butler backed up to the housekeeper, stepping over her with a
nimbleness Omega would not have thought possible. His eyes never
leaving Hugh Owen’s face, Twinings grabbed the housekeeper under
the arms and towed her toward the open door that led belowstairs.
She was soon out of sight; only the flop-flop of her feet on the
stairs could be heard as Twinings dragged her to safety in the
servants’ hall.

Jamie shook his
head. He knelt on the floor beside Omega and regarded his uncle. “I
don’t think this is quite the impression we wanted, Omega,” he
stated. “But only think how helpful Hugh has been up to
now.”

Omega didn’t know
whether to laugh or to cry. “Oh, Jamie,” she said as she hung on to
the viscount’s nose. “This is your uncle and his name is Matthew
Bering. You bear somewhat of a resemblance to him.”


Happy
to see you, sir,” said Jamie, and held out his hand.

Matthew Bering
groaned and took his nephew’s hand. “Pleased to see you again,
James. It has been years ... Good God, what
am
I saying? Oh,
the deuce take it, Omega, let go of my nose!”

With a little
twist that made him yelp, Omega released his nose, wiping around
his nostrils to make sure the bleeding had truly stopped. She
touched the rising bump on his nose.


Matthew, you have been reorganized,” she said.

Other than the
unexpected calamity to his face, Matthew Bering looked much the
same to Omega. His hair, the rich chestnut hair she had always
thought so handsome, was the same glorious color. He was a little
fuller through the chest, but she had previously thought him too
lean anyway. Eight years had scarcely altered him. She almost
touched the little mole by his eye before she remembered
herself.


How
is it that you are the Viscount Byford?” she asked.


And
how is it that you are here?” he challenged in turn. “What the
devil is going on?” He turned his head slowly and regarded his
nephew, bewilderment at war with indignation in his brown eyes.
“And you, James Clevenden, why are you not at your Uncle Edwin’s
estate?”

Jamie raised his
chin and returned the same brown-eyed stare to his uncle. “I ran
away, sir. I have come to live with you.”

The viscount
groaned and closed his eyes again.

Omega watched him
for a considerable moment. “Matthew?” she asked finally.


I’m
not going to open my eyes until you all disappear,” was his reply,
from the depths of the bloody cravat he held to his
nose.


Oh, I
like that!” declared Omega as she grabbed his nose again and held
it. “I’ve lost my luggage and my money, ruined my reputation very
likely
—if
there was any of it left to ruin—and now I’m
hunted by the law, just because I snatched your nephew from a Bow
Street Runner.”


Omega,” said Hugh, giving her shoulder a little
shake.


Not
now. Let Jamie and me help the viscount to his chambers
and—”

Matthew Bering
struggled upright, waving away Omega’s hand. “I am supposed to be
judging a horse show in
 
...” He pulled out a watch from his waistcoat.
“Good God, fifteen minutes. If you will be so kind as to help me to
my feet, I will be on my way.”

Hugh helped him
up. “My lord, you’re in no condition to go anywhere. I ought to
know, because I’m the one that hit you.”

But the viscount
wasn’t attending to Hugh Owen. He whirled around to stare at Omega.
“Did you say the Bow Street Runners? What curious business is
this?” he asked no one in particular.


It is
a rather long story, Uncle,” ventured Jamie.

Again Matthew was
not paying attention. He lurched over to the hall mirror and looked
into it, aghast. He touched his nose in disbelief, and turned
around to stare at the people who watched him. “I am supposed to
meet two gentlemen whose influence will weigh heavily on the future
of this little village.” His voice was rising. “And I look like
some Johnny Raw just come foxed from a cockfight!” He turned to
Omega. “If this is your idea of retribution, Miss Chartley,” he
shouted, “you are wonderfully revenged!”

Omega gasped, and
tears sprang to her eyes. Before she knew what she was doing, she
grabbed the front of his shirt. “This doesn’t even begin to touch
what you did to me!” she hissed. “How dare you!”

As soon as the
moment came, it passed. Omega burst into tears and sat herself down
on the stairs, as far away from the viscount as she could
manage.

Omega’s tears
seemed to recall the viscount to himself. He sat down beside her,
not looking at her, not touching her, his hand still clutching the
stock to his bleeding nose. “That was a terrible thing for me to
say,” he began, his voice much subdued. “Miss Chartley, I have no
idea what is going on, not a single clue. I do know that I have to
be at a horse judging.” He spread his hand out in front of him.
“What am I to do?”


Sir,
if I may suggest ...” began Hugh in his quiet voice.


Oh,
anything, anything,” declared the viscount.


Give
me a suit of your clothes. We are much the same size. I will judge
that horse show.”


We
look nothing alike,” said the viscount dryly.


Oh, I
do not attempt a masquerade. Send me with a letter of introduction
...”


...
stating that he is a friend of yours, recently returned from the
Battle of Waterloo ...” continued Angela, her eyes lighting
up.


Yes,
Uncle, you had a ... a trifling accident ... something to do with
...”


...
an open door,” contributed Omega, blowing her nose in the one
remaining handkerchief in her reticule. “Oh, Hugh, do you know
anything about horses?”


No,”
he admitted. “But I will politely defer to the other judges and
admire their taste. When I bring them back here for dinner, if that
was your intention ...”


It
was,” said Matthew. “Which reminds me. I have a disgruntled cook
belowstairs.” He sighed. “And my servants have probably all fled by
the back door.” He looked about him in disbelief. “This room was so
tidy only a moment ago.”


Oh,
it was, wasn’t it?” said Angela. “I have never seen such a home.
Not even in Spain,” she added generously.


It
looks like Bedlam now,” said Matthew. He looked down with great
distaste at his bloody shirt front. “Or perhaps a slaughtering
pen.”


Sir,
time is passing,” Hugh reminded him.


So it
is.” The viscount rose to his feet, touching Omega’s shoulder for
an instant to regain his balance. “Leonard!” he shouted. “Come down
here at once!”

In another moment
a man appeared at the top of the stairs. He made strange gargling
sounds in his throat as he surveyed the scene below.


Not a
word, Leonard, not a word,” warned the viscount. “I’ll explain
everything to you as soon as I know what is going on. Now, help me
upstairs and find a suit of clothes for ... Sir, who are
you?”

Hugh pulled
himself together smartly. “Hugh Owen, my lord, former sergeant in
His Majesty’s Fifty-first Rifles, Picton’s Brigade, God rest his
soul.”

Matthew allowed a
tiny smile to come to his lips. “No, not now. You are Major Hugh
Owen of His Majesty’s et cetera, et cetera. We were classmates at
Oxford.”


Indeed,” said Hugh, “and I gave it up for King and
Country.”


Exactly. And, Leonard,” continued the viscount, “find a black
silk scarf of mine to use as a sling for Hugh’s arm. It will make
him appear more romantic.”


Indeed,” echoed Omega.


Miss
Chartley, you are to go belowstairs and promise my cook the sun,
moon, and stars, or, failing that, a hare for the game course. When
this ... this charade is over, we will discuss the matter of my
nephew. And ... and anything else that comes to mind.”

Without a word,
Omega went to the open door, motioning Angela and Jamie to
follow.

The servants’
hall was deathly quiet, for all that the servants were seated
around the dining table. Nine pairs of eyes stared at Omega as she
came to the head of the table and clasped her hands tightly
together so they would not shake.


There
has been a most unfortunate row upstairs,” she began calmly, “and I
know that you heard it. Your master is well. No great damage has
been done, but I know you are all disturbed.”

The eyes didn’t
move from her face. She looked at them all in turn. “Mrs. Wells?
Mrs. Wells, there will be a hare for the game course.” She put her
hand upon Angela’s shoulder. “Angela and Jamie will trap one for
you.” She put her hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “This is James
Clevenden, the viscount’s nephew. He will be staying here.” She
paused, and for the first time in eight years felt strangely young
as the servants continued to stare at her. “As for the rest, you
will simply have to trust me.”

Still no one
moved. Omega’s heart began to drift in the direction of her shoes.
She held her chin high and looked into each face again. “I am Omega
Chartley. Some of you may know who ... who I am, but it really is
of no importance. I will not be here long. Now, please, help your
master.”

The silence
deepened. Finally Mrs. Wells rose to her feet.


I
wouldn’t stay another moment in this deranged household,” she
began, her face red. She opened her mouth to say more, but Omega
spoke up.


Then
leave it, Mrs. Wells,” she said quietly. “I have managed a
household before, and I am certain I can do justice to this one for
the short time I will be here.”

Mrs. Wells’s eyes
seemed to start out of her head. After a long second of floundering
about for the correct word to express her sentiment, she turned on
her heel and stalked from the room.

Omega glanced at
Twinings and was quick to catch the gleam of appreciation in his
eyes. “You, sir,” she said. “Can you delegate the parlormaid and
footman to perform a miracle in that front hall?”


I
can,” he said. “Come, Tildy, Michael, you have work to do. And
bring a broom and dustpan.”

The cook rose
next. If Omega had had any doubt that it was the cook, he began to
speak in rapid French, gesturing wildly, grandly, pouring out his
woes to the ceiling. When he stopped for a breath, Angela plunged
into the conversation, her French as rapid-fire as his. Omega’s
eyes opened wide. Angela turned to her at last, a note of
undisguised triumph in her voice.


He
will stay for two rabbits and a trout.”


A
trout? Oh, Angela, however will you produce a trout?”


Omega, she probably has a line and hook in her bag,” Jamie
said.

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