Finessing Clarissa (3 page)

‘That’s handsome of you,’ said Clarissa, ‘considering it was I who set the coach on fire. All my fine gowns are quite destroyed,’ she said cheerfully, thinking of all those frilly, fussy dresses going up in smoke, not to mention all those cramping and crippling pairs of shoes.

‘I suggest you ride back with me to my home and let the others find their own way there.’

‘Very well,’ said Clarissa. ‘We are not totally ruined, for the jewels are still there and the money was in sovereigns. Pray give instructions to my servants.’

He strode off to talk to Clarissa’s coachman. Tom sniffed dismally at Clarissa’s elbow.

‘Oh, you’re still here,’ said Clarissa crossly. ‘What an idiot you are!’

‘It’s all Crispin’s fault,’ said Tom. ‘I asked him for money for a new hunter and he wouldn’t give it to me. He’s a miser!’

‘Was that his fine horse you were riding?’

‘No, it was my own,’ said Tom sulkily.

‘But because you couldn’t get your own way, you decided to turn highwayman and rob some defenceless person. Fie, for shame! My coachman could have shot you, had he had his wits about him. You are a silly little schoolboy.’

‘I’ll get even with you for this,’ muttered Tom.

The earl strode back to them. ‘Tom, help the maid mount one of the carriage horses and lead her home. Miss Vevian, let me help you mount.’

‘I am quite capable of mounting myself,’ said Clarissa, suddenly nervous of him. She put a stockinged foot in the stirrup and mounted with such energy that she went clean over the other side. Her bonnet fell off and her red hair, which was very long, tumbled down to her waist.

‘Miss Vevian,’ said the earl, picking her up. ‘Do allow me to assist you.’

Despite Clarissa’s height, he threw her up easily into the saddle and then mounted behind her and put a strong arm about her waist. He leaned forward and murmured in her ear, ‘You do still smell awfully of that sewer,’ before spurring his horse.

So much for romance, thought Clarissa tearfully as they rode through the starry night. Here she was, just like a heroine in a book, flying through the night with this man’s hand at her waist and all he could murmur in her ear was that she smelled awful.

But she had no fear of him or that he might turn out to be a robber after all. He rode up the long drive of an estate and after a mile or so they came to a huge building. The lantern over the step was shining down on a pair of women who were waiting anxiously.

Clarissa looked down on them and her heart sank. They were just the sort of ladies who always made her feel clumsy. The older one was still pretty in a faded way with clusters of brown curls confined with a gold fillet over her brow. The younger had golden hair and delicate features.

The earl dismounted and helped Clarissa down. ‘Where is Tom?’ demanded Angela.

‘Tom will be here presently,’ said the earl. ‘This is Miss Vevian, whose coach he tried to rob. Miss Vevian, my stepmother, the Dowager Countess of Greystone, and my half-sister, Lady Bella.’

‘You must be mistaken. Tom would never do such a thing,’ exclaimed Angela.

‘He did, he has, and you must pray that Miss Vevian here does not turn him over to the nearest magistrate.’

To Clarissa’s dismay, Angela threw herself at her feet and cried, ‘Oh, spare my boy.’

‘Please take Miss Vevian indoors and find her clean clothes and water to wash and bring her to the saloon and we will discuss the matter,’ said the earl testily.

But it was only with great difficulty that Angela could be persuaded to behave herself. Clarissa was glad Angela was led off by Bella and she herself was turned over to the care of an efficient housekeeper.

It transpired that the earl’s mother had been as tall as Clarissa and that her feet had been as large. Although she had been dead for many years now, her clothes were still stored in the attics. A gown of dark-green velvet was found for Clarissa and a pair of shoes with high red heels. Clarissa brushed her own hair and twisted it into a knot on the top of her head. She made her way to the saloon guided by a footman, feeling she looked like a guy.

The footman opened the door for her and she walked in. There was no one in the room but the earl, who was standing by the fireplace.

There was a little silence while the pair surveyed each other. Clarissa saw that the earl was indeed much taller than she was herself. He was handsome but formidable with his thick black hair, strong face, and pale, cold eyes. The earl saw a slim girl in a green velvet gown with thick masses of fiery-red hair, a rather sweet face dusted with freckles, and wide-spaced grey eyes. Clarissa noticed with surprise that the earl was looking at her with the same expression in his eyes which certain elderly gentleman had when they paid court to her mother – warmth and admiration. She felt quite breathless with surprise.

‘Come and sit down by the fire, Miss Vevian,’ said the earl, ‘and warm yourself. I do apologize for that wretched boy. Do say you forgive us.’

‘Yes, I do forgive you,’ said Clarissa. ‘It must be very taxing for you to have such a difficult charge. I have heard of you, my lord. Your father died recently and Tom is your half-brother.’

‘I wish I knew what to do with the boy. He is sadly spoilt. We are going to London for the Season and I shudder to think what scrapes he will get into.’

‘Then don’t take him,’ said Clarissa, stretching her hands gratefully to the blaze.

‘I can hardly leave him here on his own.’

‘No, but if you hired an excellent tutor, you could send him off on the Grand Tour. The prospect of travel would excite him. You would not have the responsibility of him for some time. Have you any other half-brothers?’

‘Peregrine, aged eight. Another spoilt brat.’

‘But just the right age to go to school,’ said Clarissa. ‘Send him to Eton.’

‘My dear Miss Vevian, he would never go, and his mother and Bella would scream the house down.’

‘Then tell both of them that you have no intention of wasting good money in sending the boy to school,’ said Clarissa. ‘You will find it will work like magic. People are very contrary-minded, or so I have observed.’

‘Do you usually deal with other people’s troubles in this practical manner?’

‘No, I grew up, you see, as soon as I left home, which was today.’

He smiled. ‘And can you not be grown up at home?’

‘No, my dear mama still thinks of me as a little girl and I would do anything to please her,’ said Clarissa sadly.

‘And why were you on the road to London, and should I send a messenger on ahead to explain the delay?’

‘That would be very kind,’ said Clarissa. ‘If you could advise the Misses Tribble of Holles Street that I have broken my journey, I would be most grateful.’

‘The Tribbles? The professional chaperones? Is that where you are bound? Why?’

‘I did not “take” in Bath,’ said Clarissa, blushing painfully. ‘I am a trifle awkward.’

‘You mean you usually set fire to carriages and bathe foreheads with handkerchiefs dipped in a sewer?’

‘Something like that,’ said Clarissa wretchedly. The earl felt laughter bubbling up inside him. He had not felt so amused and happy in a long while.

He held out a case. ‘Have a cheroot, Miss Vevian.’

Clarissa shuddered and waved the case away. ‘No, no. I do not smoke them. I was only trying one to be, well, bold and independent and free.’

‘I see,’ he said gently. ‘Here is the punch-bowl, Miss Vevian. A glass will restore you.’

The servant set a tray with the ingredients for punch on a table beside the earl. Clarissa watched him enviously as he deftly mixed the ingredients. Nothing spilled and nothing dropped.

He handed her a glass. Clarissa settled back in her comfortable chair. The fire crackled, the clocks ticked, and the wind howled in the chimney. She wished she could go on sitting here with this man, who made her feel quite small and feminine.

‘Why do you not stay here for a little as my guest?’ he said as if reading her thoughts. ‘I could write to your parents.’

‘It would not answer,’ said Clarissa sadly. ‘You see, Mama and Papa would probably come and stay as well and Mama would make me wear small tight shoes again and small tight flounced dresses and of course I would wear them to please her. But if I go to London, I can choose the type of clothes I would really like to wear – clothes like this.’

‘A trifle old-fashioned. That gown was my mother’s.’

‘But she must have been big like me,’ said Clarissa, ‘and she dressed to suit her size. This gown may be old-fashioned, but it was a modish gown in its day.’

‘It becomes you, Miss Vevian.’

Clarissa gave him a blinding smile.

‘In fact, you may keep it and anything else you are provided with for your journey.’

‘But your mother’s clothes . . .’

‘She would have been delighted could she have known they were being put to good use. She was a kind and charming lady. My father, alas, was a brute and a tyrant. She did not have a happy life.’

‘If he was a brute and a tyrant, how is it that Tom and Peregrine and Lady Bella are so spoilt?’

‘He doted on Angela. She was considerably younger than he. There was a vulgar streak in my father. Angela is vulgar underneath that clinging and pretty façade. Dear me. Pretend I never said that. Do people always converse so openly with you?’

‘No,’ said Clarissa. ‘My height intimidates them and then I am very shy.’

‘You do not seem in the least shy to me.’

‘That is because of the circumstances. We are here by chance, you see. I am not being paraded in front of you in the hope you might marry me. I do not need to
try
. Do you know what I mean?’

‘Yes,’ he said, taking her glass and refilling it. ‘I know what you mean.’ He privately thought Lady Clarendon was, however unwittingly, guilty of being cruel and callous.

‘In fact, I often wish I were a man.’ Clarissa moved her arm in an expansive gesture and a little wave of punch slopped onto the green gown. She let out a wail of dismay.

He took out his handkerchief and dabbed at the stain on her bust. ‘No, don’t!’ cried Clarissa, pushing his hand away.

‘I am merely trying to take the stain out, Miss Vevian.’

Clarissa miserably shook her head. Her whole body felt on fire. ‘I think I shall retire, my lord.’

‘Of course,’ he said quickly. ‘You must be tired after your adventures.’ He rang the bell and ordered a footman to show Clarissa to her room.

Clarissa found a nightgown laid out for her. She undressed and washed herself again in case any of that awful sewer smell should still prove to be lingering about and brushed out her hair and then remembered her maid, Hubbard, and went in search of her. She should have called for a servant and asked the way, but she was clad only in her nightgown and wanted to have a talk in private with Hubbard. She judged the maid would have been put in one of the rooms on the upper floor. She pushed open several doors until she found the right one.

Hubbard was sitting up in bed, reading a Bible.

‘I was told you were downstairs, miss,’ said Hubbard, ‘so I asked that housekeeper to fetch me the Bible to show this household we are God-fearing folk.’

‘There was no need,’ said Clarissa. ‘Lord Greystone is all that is respectable.’

‘Lets his half-brother go around holding up coaches? That’s not respectable.’

‘It is very difficult to explain, Hubbard. We shall set out tomorrow. Lord Greystone is sending a letter to the Tribbles to explain the delay in our arrival, which is something Mama should have done in the first place, for we were almost a day late in leaving Bath.’

‘My nerves is shattered, miss,’ said Hubbard huffily. ‘Don’t seem right it should be all hushed up.’

‘Hubbard, you will not say one word. I am sure Master Tom will be punished. Lord Greystone has promised to pay for a new carriage and for all the clothes we have lost. Now, go to sleep.’

‘Don’t be getting into any mischief, miss. I had better see you to your room. You shouldn’t ought to be wandering about in your night-rail, and with his lordship not wed.’

‘We are adequately chaperoned by his stepmother, and you know it. Good night, Hubbard.’

Clarissa left the maid’s room and stifled a yawn. She was suddenly extremely weary. She could not remember ever being so tired. She wandered downstairs and then stood irresolute. Which was her room? She turned this way and that and finally made her way along a passage and gently opened a door. Bella was sitting up in bed reading.

‘What do
you
want?’ she asked rudely.

‘I have lost my bedroom,’ said Clarissa.

Bella surveyed her for a few moments and then smiled. She climbed out of bed. ‘I will show you where it is. Follow me.’

Back into the passage, which was lit by an oil lamp, along two more passages. Bella stopped outside a door. ‘In there,’ she said. ‘That’s your room.’

Clarissa curtsied awkwardly, feeling once more tall and gauche beside the dainty creature that was Bella. ‘Thank you,’ she said softly. ‘Good night.’

‘Pleasant dreams,’ said Bella with a little laugh.

Clarissa went into the room and shut the door. A fire was glowing in the hearth. She walked to the large bed and pulled back the bed-curtains. Strange that the bed seemed to have grown much larger than when she had last seen it. She climbed in and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

The Earl of Greystone went into his room and took off his clothes, thinking hard of what Clarissa had said as he did so. It would be wonderful if he could get Peregrine off to school and Tom off on the Grand Tour. Then he would only have Bella and Angela to cope with. Bella was very pretty and would no doubt be married and off his hands before the Season was over. If only Angela would marry again. That would solve all his problems. He filled the basin on the toilet table with rose-scented water and splashed himself all over and scrubbed himself down with a towel.

He wondered whether to light the candles and read for a little but decided against it. He climbed into bed and stretched his naked body out under the sheets.

Then he heard a soft rhythmic breathing close to his ear. He stretched out and fumbled with the tinder-box and lit the candle in its flat stick beside the bed and held it up. Red hair cascaded over the pillow beside him. He could just see the tip of Miss Clarissa Vevian’s small nose.