Sir Philip's Folly (The Poor Relation Series Book 4) (3 page)

The waiting at table by these aristocratic owners of the hotel, which was much vaunted, consisted, the earl noticed, of Sir Philip, Lady Fortescue and the colonel courteously serving a few plates of soup and then they contented themselves with supervising the work of the waiters.

The food was excellent. The earl made a good meal but could not help noticing that the schoolgirl miss with the wide hazel eyes only picked at hers. He would have been amazed had he known that he was the reason for her loss of appetite.

“Do try to eat your food,” Lady Carruthers was saying. “It is not like you to be so nice.”

“How would you know, Mama?” asked Arabella. “I cannot remember the last time we dined together.”

Even in London, before the roof fell in, Arabella had been expected to eat her meals in the schoolroom there, just as she ate her meals alone in the schoolroom at home.

“I wonder who that extraordinarily handsome man is,” mused Lady Carruthers. She raised an imperious hand and summoned Lady Fortescue, who looked at her thoughtfully and who in turn summoned Sir Philip, who advanced on Lady Carruthers.

“Yes, my lady?” demanded Sir Philip testily. He wanted to be with his beloved next door, not creaking around the dining-room being summoned by an under-dressed doxy, which was how he privately damned Lady Carruthers.

“Tell me, who is that handsome gentleman over there?”

“That is the Earl of Denby.”

“Thank you, you may go.”

This high-handed dismissal was enough to put Sir Philip’s back up. He turned to Arabella. “You have made a poor meal of it,” he said. “Can I perhaps get you something else?”

“No, thank you, Sir Philip,” said Arabella, whose innate courtesy had prompted her to find out the names of the owners of the hotel. “This food is indeed excellent. I am a trifle out of sorts.”

“Then after dinner I shall send our Miss Tonks to you. She is excellent at brewing possets, having learned the recipes from our Mrs. Budley.”

“That will not be necessary,” said Lady Carruthers, but Sir Philip had turned on his heel and walked away.

Denby, thought Lady Carruthers. Estates in Denby-shire, prosperous; wait a bit, married. No, wife dead; I remember taking note of that. Early thirties, yes, but I look like a young miss.

She smiled at her daughter. “I saw the earl look this way. He probably thinks we are sisters.”

Her eyes were glowing. Arabella realized with a sinking heart that her mother was about to pursue the man of her, Arabella’s, dreams.

Lady Carruthers had retired to bed, but Arabella was sitting reading in the small sitting-room allotted to them when Miss Tonks was admitted and asked if there was anything she could do to help Miss Carruthers.

Miss Tonks was fashionably dressed in rustling brown silk shot with gold. Her sheeplike face was earnest and non-threatening, so Arabella smiled and said that Miss Tonks was most kind but there was nothing she required.

At that moment Lady Carruthers opened her bedroom door and demanded waspishly if Arabella meant to keep her awake all night chattering with the servants, and then slammed the door with force.

“I do apologize,” said Arabella, flushing slightly, “Mama is a trifle fatigued.”

“I find,” said Miss Tonks hesitatingly, “that an impairment of the appetite is often caused by worry or love. I myself have been eating badly lately. But I must not keep you talking, although”—she looked shyly at the floor—“we have a charming sitting-room upstairs and there is no one there at the moment, if you would like a comfortable coze.”

If Arabella had said no at that point, her life might have turned out differently, but intrigued and amused, she stood up and said, “Lead the way, Miss Tonks.”

When they reached the “staff” sitting-room, Miss Tonks ordered tea and cakes, for she wondered if Miss Carruthers’s dreadful mama might have something to do with the girl’s loss of appetite.

“Is anything worrying you at the moment?” asked Miss Tonks when they were seated in front of a bright but tiny fire.

“I do not think I am exactly worried about anything,” said Arabella cautiously. “But you did say that your own appetite was bad because of worry. I am not in the way of talking to anyone, but that makes me a good confidante.”

Miss Tonks looked doubtfully at the young face, the girlish dress and the long hair.

“I am nineteen,” said Arabella with a quaint dignity.

Miss Tonks hesitated, but only for a moment. She missed her friend, Mrs. Budley. The desire to unburden herself was great.

“Did you mark Sir Philip Sommerville?” she began.

“The elderly gentleman, yes.”

Miss Tonks gave a faint sigh. “Yes, he
is
elderly, I suppose. When my friend Eliza Budley married recently—she was part-owner here—Sir Philip and I went to the wedding in Warwickshire. We had a great adventure on the road there. A highwayman stopped our coach and our coachman and groom ran away. I shot him, and Sir Philip was so proud of me instead of being waspish and unkind as he usually is. On the road home, we were very friendly, very close, and like a fool, I began to dream of marriage.”

“But is there not a great distance between your ages?” asked Arabella, who correctly judged Miss Tonks to be in her forties.

“Oh, yes, a
vast
difference, my dear. But you see, I am become so weary of being a spinster. At your age, one dreams of handsome young men, and then, later on, perhaps of someone of the same age, then of a widower, and then, I suppose when all hope has fled, anyone will do. It was then that Sir Philip, while we were companionable together at an inn in Chipping Norton, yes, Sir Philip, he read in the newspapers that the Prince Regent had been a guest in the dining-room. He became incensed. He thought Colonel Sandhurst and Lady Fortescue should somehow have got news to us, although, as they did not know where we could be found, I do not know how he could have expected them to manage. But he was in a foul temper all the way to London and he threw a scene when we got here and stormed off. He came back with Mrs. Mary Budge, a coarse and common widow-woman with a huge appetite. He said she would help us but she does nothing but sit and eat and yet he can find no fault with her. He looks at me with all the old scorn. I… I cannot bear it.”

Miss Tonks began to cry quietly. Arabella perched on the arm of the spinster’s chair and gave her a hug. “You surely deserve better than the attentions of an old rake. Come, Miss Tonks, I have
seen
Sir Philip. He looks like a tortoise.”

Miss Tonks gave a faint giggle and dried her eyes just as Jack, the footman, entered with a tea-tray. When he had left, Miss Tonks composed herself and poured tea, noticing with satisfaction that Arabella had started to eat the cakes with every evidence of a healthy appetite. “I have made such a fool of myself,” said Miss Tonks shyly.

“Not at all,” said Arabella. “I am not versed in the ways of the world, but you are obviously too much of a lady to be pining away over such as Sir Philip. Still, if you need help, help is what you will have. Perhaps a plan of action would help. Have any of you seriously tried to dislodge this Mrs. Budge?”

“No, not really. Lady Fortescue has insisted that he pay all Mrs. Budge’s bills, but even that does not seem to move him to get rid of her.”

“I read a lot,” said Arabella simply. “I shall think of something.”

“And what of you, my dear Miss Carruthers? What has happened to affect
your
appetite?”

“The Earl of Denby.”

“The handsome earl? You have met him before?”

“Not before today, Miss Tonks. I have not been in the way of meeting people and Mama is looking for a new husband—Papa died a year ago—and so she thinks if she keeps me looking like a school miss, then she will appear younger. I did not mind before today. I am used to a solitary life. But when I was standing at the window of our town house, I saw the earl arrive to pay a call on the neighbours. He… he looked like all the heroes in the books I read. I regret to say I read a great number of romances. I asked Mama when I could make my come-out, for then, you see, I would have a chance to talk to him, perhaps to dance with him.” Her large eyes grew wistful. “But Mama is coming out herself, so to speak, and I fear she will fail to find a husband, and so the years will pass until I look like a freak in these clothes.”

“But he is
here
in this hotel, Miss Carruthers. You will have many opportunities to get to know him.”

“He will not notice me. Or, if he does, he might pat me on the head and give me a toy. What hope do I have, looking like this?”

“You are no longer alone,” said Miss Tonks, her kind heart touched. “May I please tell my partners about your hopes? Sir Philip is so resourceful.” She blushed. “Well, he is. He may be horrible most of the time and a genuine antique, but he is amazing at plotting.”

“You are most kind.” Arabella looked worried. “But I think such as Lady Fortescue would find the romantic thoughts of a young woman a trifle ridiculous.”

“I do not think so. Besides, they would not tell anyone else and they would not make you feel silly.”

“In other words, I must have as many recruits to my cause as possible?”

“Oh, exactly. Believe me, this hotel was started because of a group of us who no longer wanted to be alone and poor. That is why it has such an odd name. We did expect at the beginning, you know, that our angry relatives would buy us out, but that did not happen and now Lady Fortescue enjoys the business so much that she will not really consider selling it and I… I have nowhere else to go.”

Arabella looked at her sympathetically and said, “My mother cannot really interfere with any plans, for she leaves me alone for most of the day, and the evening too. Last night was about the only time she has ever dined with me. And with the possibility of the earl being in the dining-room, she will make me eat my meals in my room.”

“She cannot do that,” said Miss Tonks. “We do not serve meals in the rooms.”

“Then no doubt she will send the footman out to a chop-house. When should I consult the others?”

“Three o’clock tomorrow would be a good time,” said Miss Tonks.

Arabella sat and quietly ate another cake before stand-yet, why should he worry? he wondered. She had never been other than placid and warm-hearted. He was sorely in need of money. Now that Mrs. Budge’s bills could no longer be lost in the general hotel bills, it meant he would need to find extra money. He considered briefly thieving from the guests, but shrank from it. Since they had all turned honest, even he could not bring himself to return to crime.

He made his way to the apartment next door. His love was sleeping in a bed in the corner of the sitting-room, the sitting-room having been commandeered for her use. She was lying on her back, snoring. For one brief moment, he saw her as the others saw her. But then she turned in her sleep and her huge breasts spilled over the top of her night-gown. He untied his cravat and prepared to join her, all thoughts of money or getting her to work forgotten for the time being.

***

Miss Arabella Carruthers waited anxiously for her mother to wake up and go out so that she could join the hotel owners in their sitting-room. Her mother did not rise until one or two. Would she be gone by three? Arabella fretted. The day had started badly. She had been amusing herself by walking up and down the stairs and along the hotel corridors, wondering what it had looked like when it had been a private house. A child had run out of one of the rooms, chasing a bright ball. Arabella had tried to stop it, but the ball had run past her and down the stairs. “I’ll get it for you,” she called gaily. She ran down the stairs and then stopped short. The earl was standing there, holding the ball in his hand.

Miserably conscious of her girlish appearance, Arabella tried to be as stately as possible. She curtsied low. He smiled and held the ball out to her. She took it and thanked him. She was about to try to start up a conversation when he said, “The pleasure is mine,” and ruffled her hair. She turned and scrambled back up the stairs like the child he obviously thought her to be, her face flaming with mortification. She gave the ball to the child and returned to the apartment to brood.

To her infinite relief, at precisely a quarter to three her mother sallied forth to make calls after many agonizing complaints that this fan would not do and these gloves were the wrong colour.

When she entered the “staff” sitting-room at precisely three o’clock, Lady Fortescue was saying, “That woman never put in an appearance. Really, it is too bad.” She looked up and saw Arabella. “Welcome,” she said. “We have not introduced ourselves formally. I am Lady Fortescue, to your left is Colonel Sandhurst, and Miss Tonks you already know. Tea will be served shortly.”

Arabella curtsied and sat down. “You must excuse us, Miss Carruthers,” said Lady Fortescue, “but we have a certain domestic problem we are anxious to discuss, particularly as Sir Philip Sommerville is absent.”

“The problem of Mrs. Budge? I have been considering that,” said Arabella.

The colonel looked at her indulgently, his eyes twinkling. “My dear, I do not think you have met such as Mrs. Budge in all your life.”

“But I have a
plan
,” said Arabella eagerly. “I was awake quite a bit of the night thinking it out.”

“Very well,” said Lady Fortescue, although she cast a fulminating look at Miss Tonks. What had that lady been about, enlisting the help of a young miss?

“It’s this,” said Arabella. “Sir Philip is very old.” Three pairs of eyes glared at her. “I m-mean,” she faltered, “I do not think Mrs. Budge can be in love with him.”