Carola Dunn (28 page)

“I suppose not. Well, it will not hurt for her to know we shall have visitors, but don’t tell her yet who they are.”

As a result of Nerissa’s consultation with the housekeeper, the maids were set to dusting, polishing, scouring, and airing featherbeds. The bed-linens for the spare chambers, long unused, had been stored in cedar chests in the attic. The maids were fully occupied, so Nerissa had Ben set up a folding step-ladder, climbed up to the attic and started opening chests.

Besides sheets, blankets, quilts, and counterpanes packed away in still-fragrant lavender, she found all sorts of interesting objects. There were clothes in the extraordinary fashions of the last century, including several wigs. There were pictures--she recalled that her mother’s portrait had been kept here, safe from Sir Barnabas’s wrath--several of which she set aside to take down and hang. There were toys and children’s books, and still a half-dozen chests she had no time to check.

“I daresay it will take me another two or three days to explore everything,” she told Miss Sophie at tea-time. “It is rather dusty but great fun. I wish I had had some of the old clothes at the Playhouse. They would have saved me a great deal of work.”

Sir Barnabas sighed for the good old days when a gentleman could wear velvets and satins, lace and ribbons, crimson, lilac, and peacock without appearing a popinjay like Aubrey. In those days, ladies had kept their waists where nature intended, and Sophie had possessed one of the smallest. Admittedly there was no sign of it now, but she had a comfortably plump figure, whereas her sister was simply massive.

Glancing at Euphemia, he saw a gleam in her eye which he did not care for at all. She was plotting again.

Alerted, he followed as she propelled Sophie before her to the back parlour after tea. “This is most fortunate,” she declared, sinking onto the creaking sofa.

“What is?” Sophie asked, for once with good reason to be bewildered.

“Nerissa’s peculiar notion of ‘great fun.’ Can you imagine anywhere better to shut her up with Miles for a few hours? You will take a message to Miles saying Nerissa has found something vastly interesting in the attics and wants him to join her. As soon as he is safely up, you will take away the ladder.”

“What if the ladder is too heavy for me, Effie? I am not as strong as you.”

“Oh, very well, I shall remove the ladder. Then, when they begin to misbehave you must go for Harwood.”

“But how shall I know the right moment?”

“You will be hidden up there, spying on them.”

“Then I cannot fetch Mr Harwood, because you will have carried off the ladder.”

“Must you be constantly raising objections?” said Euphemia impatiently. “You can always bang on the floor as a signal, and I shall fetch Harwood.”

“Ye-es.” Sophie was still doubtful. “Except, if you can hear me from below, will not Miles and Nerissa hear and stop... whatever they are doing?”

Euphemia was forced to stop and think. Sir Barnabas waited with the ghostly equivalent of bated breath for her next preposterous command. Her plots were growing wilder and wilder, so absurd that even Sophie saw the holes in them.

“You will make a hole in the attic floor. I shall wait below, and at the right moment you wave your handkerchief.”

“What if someone sees the hole?”

“Not if you make a very small hole, ninny, just big enough to drop something through. Spills will do. All right, do you understand what you have to do? When Nerissa is safely up there, you find Miles...”

“Oh dear, Effie, I am sorry to be so stupid, but if I am to find Miles, how am I to get up before him to hide?”

“For pity’s sake, I shall take the message to Miles!” howled Euphemia. “You will have to go up early, before Nerissa. Come on, we shall go there now to make the hole and to arrange a place for you to hide. Fetch a lantern.”

The trapdoor to the attics was located above the landing leading to the upper servants’ rooms. When Nerissa came down for her tea, a footman had left the trapdoor open but folded the step-ladder and put it out of the way against the wall, ready for the morning.

In their ignorance, Euphemia and Sophie failed to unfold the ladder. After a struggle with the unwieldy object, they set it up leaning against the edge of the trapdoor. It only just reached, in an almost vertical position, balanced on the tips of its back legs.

Regarding it dubiously, neither lady noticed the little kitchen maid emerging from one of the abigails’ rooms, carrying three or four empty hot-water jugs. Sir Barnabas saw her hurriedly conceal herself in a doorway as she caught sight of Euphemia. She peeked out, her eyes round.

“Go on, Sophie,” Effie said irritably. “We shall not defeat Miles and Nerissa by standing here.”

“Oh dear, it does not look very safe.”

“What a henhearted poltroon you are! I shall hold it steady for you. Don’t forget the lantern.”

Sir Barnabas moved to the other side of the ladder and gripped it in tenuous fingers, ready to exert all his powers should it so much as quiver as Sophie climbed. Step by step, the lantern swinging wildly in one hand, she clambered up and disappeared thankfully into the attic.

After calling her sister a coward, Effie could hardly complain that the way was precarious. She started up. At first her weight on the lower half anchored the ladder, but as she continued it tottered.

Effie flung herself forward. From the waist up, she landed on the plank floor of the attic.

The temptation was too much for Sir Barnabas. Still, he never knew whether the ladder would have fallen of itself, nor whether his strength was enough to topple it--for as it oscillated, the little maid darted forward and gave it a hearty shove.

“That’s for Miss Nerissa and Master Miles, y’owld sow,” she muttered as the ladder crashed to the floor.

Bawling like a stuck pig, Effie hung from the trapdoor, legs waving wildly. The child fled down the stairs, screeching at the top of her voice.

“Burglars! Burglars!”

Sir Barnabas’s ribs ached from laughing. In fact, he thought he was going to die--a second time--laughing. Exhausted by laughter and by the strain of pushing on the ladder, he almost faded away.

He made a supreme effort to gather his dissipating substance together. He was going to stay around until the end of the six months if it killed... well, if he never did another thing in his li... in his death.

Chapter 19

“They are all coming,” Miles announced, running Nerissa to earth in the library. He waved Gerald’s letter at her.

She abandoned her household accounts. “All of them? Your Godmama, too? Oh Miles, how splendid! How many is that?”

“Four...seven...eight with Ferdie, and their servants, of course. We have enough rooms?”

“Plenty of bedchambers. Only I am not at all sure how to fit everyone into the dining room if we invite all those who were here that night.”

“At least you need not fret about Effie causing trouble. She has been downright subdued since she got stuck half way into the attic. But devil take it, we must invite everyone to dinner.”

Nerissa pursed her lips. “Sir, pray mind your tongue,” she said primly.

Laughing, he applauded. “Perfect.”

“That was the first lesson you taught me. How long ago it seems!”

“You have learned so well you are more than ready to entertain the
crème de la crème
, but what... Ah, I have an even better notion. The Pettigrews are undoubtedly the first in consequence of our neighbours. We’ll have them to dine on the second day, and the rest to afternoon tea later on. Don’t tell me Mrs Pettigrew will be able to resist the chance to brag! And the others will be the more anxious to meet our guests.”

“I hope so. When do they come?”

He consulted the letter. “The eleventh, till the sixteenth.”

“The eleventh!” Nerissa jumped up, picked up her skirts, and sped to the door. “Heavens, I must see Mrs Hibbert and Cook and write invitations and...” She disappeared.

Grinning, Miles followed at a more dignified pace. Truth to tell, he had been a little worried about expecting the marquis and marchioness to dine with a horde of awed yokels. They could not object to a General and his family.

Miles had his own preparations to make. Most important, he must make sure the servants all understood the exalted status of the visitors and gossiped about them as much as possible. He relied especially upon the groom delivering the invitations to spread the word.

Then he had to consult with Snodgrass about wines, whether the cellar held what was needed or more must be bought in Porchester. Lastly he must prepare to entertain the gentlemen. He had scarcely glanced into the seldom-used billiard room in months; there were enough shotguns to allow all a chance at his plentiful game, but they must be checked, cleaned, and oiled; and he would have to provide a couple of dozen unopened packs of cards.

He winced at the thought of what his friends would say when he refused to bet on the cards.

* * * *

In the event, he need not have worried. The cards remained unopened, the shotguns unfired. Miles himself and the marquis were the only ones to make use of the billiard room. His friends were all far too busy billing and cooing with their beloveds to need outside entertainment.

Miles was disgusted. Gerald, Ferdie, and Alley had all appeared perfectly sane last time he saw them, and now here they were dancing attendance on three chits scarcely out of the schoolroom! Ferdie had no idea whether the book at White’s had seen any interesting wagers lately. Alley had exchanged his high-perch phaeton for a tilbury because the phaeton made his new wife nervous. Gerald looked at Miles blankly when he asked after Suzette.

“Who?”

“Your chère amie! You kept her for three years. Have you found another?”

“Lord no, Bea wouldn’t like it.”

“You are not married yet.”

“Bea wouldn’t like it,” Gerald repeated. “Excuse me, old chap, I promised to walk in the garden with her.”

If that was what the approach of parson’s mousetrap did to a fellow, Miles was more determined than ever to avoid the fate. His freedom was far too precious to him.

He had been looking forward to showing off Addlescombe to his friends and their defection left him disconsolate. He wanted to grumble to Nerissa but she was far too busy. Not only had all the invitations been accepted with alacrity, but acquaintances from as far away as Porchester, unseen since the disaster, found excuses to call at the manor.

Nerissa was in a seventh heaven as she entertained caller after caller, enjoying comfortable coses with her particular friends. Of course Miles was happy for her, but she had no time to spare for him.

His godmother noted his downcast face. “Rusticating has done you good, my boy,” she said with a considering gaze, the evening before their departure. “You have lost that wishy-washy dissipated look. But I daresay you have missed your friends and the fleshpots of London. Come up with us tomorrow and stay for a week or two.”

“I should like to, ma’am, but I cannot leave Addlescombe until April. My Godfather’s Will was a trifle odd in that respect--among others.”

“Decidedly odd! Well, come in April, then, and do bring Miss Wingate with you. I daresay she will like to see the sights of Town. A charming girl.”

Miles brightened. It would be fun to show Nerissa the sights of the metropolis. “I’m sure she will enjoy that. Thank you, ma’am.”

Then he recalled that if she stayed in London it would be on her way back to York. Devil take it, he was going to miss her damnably!

Lady Haverford summoned Nerissa with a glance and repeated her invitation. Nerissa accepted gratefully and gracefully.

Later she said to Miles, “I expect Mama and Papa will let me stay a few days in London. Maud insists on going with me, so I shall have someone to go about with.”

“I shall take you about!”

“A tour of the gambling hells and theatre green-rooms?”

“Of course not,” he said, hurt.

She laid her hand on his arm. “Oh Miles, I am sorry. If it were not for you I should have to scrape a few shillings together to spend the night at an inn on my way home empty-handed.”

“Fustian,” he growled, uncomfortable with her gratitude. “If it weren’t for you I’d be seriously contemplating taking the King’s shilling.”

How long ago that evening when she had saved him from playing cards for money, in spite of having quarrelled with him that very afternoon. She had also saved him from Nancy at the Addled Egg, though she did not know that, thank heaven! And her very presence had kept him from boredom, kept him from giving up in disgust under the pressure of unrelenting hostility.

“Neither of us could have done it without the other,” he said.

“We have six weeks left,” she reminded him. “Do not lower your guard.”

“Six weeks to freedom!”

She nodded silently and went off to talk to Gerald and Lady Bea.

For her, six weeks to dread losing the neighbours’ acceptance again, he realized. Well, Lady Haverford’s invitation would come in useful there. Nerissa would not boast of it, but he could boast for her.

A few days later, when most of the family and several callers were gathered in the drawing room for afternoon tea, Miles turned the talk to the amusements of London. “Have you decided yet what you wish to see,” he asked Nerissa in an unnecessarily loud voice, “when you go to stay with the Haverfords in St James’s? Lady Haverford suggested several places, did she not?”

The visitors looked properly impressed and would no doubt spread word far and wide. Nerissa’s answer was cut short as Euphemia turned purple and choked on a mouthful of currant bun.

Miss Sophie beat her vigorously on the back. Miles grinned. That had taken the wind out of her sails!

* * * *

“Invited to St James’s!” Euphemia gloomily addressed the family gathering she had summoned. “The neighbours will never snub someone who has an invitation to stay with a marchioness in St James’s. There is only one course left to us.”

“Give in,” said Sir Neville, still more gloomily. Sir Barnabas thought his brother looked even more fishlike than usual.