Read Finessing Clarissa Online
Authors: M.C. Beaton
When they filed out of the church after that disastrous rehearsal, Amy felt like killing first the viscountess and then the viscount, and then all the sniggering relatives.
Summoning up her courage, Amy drew the earl aside. ‘I must talk to you in private,’ she said. ‘It is about Clarissa.’
He nodded. ‘Get into my carriage, Miss Amy, and I will drive you back.’
Amy waited impatiently until he climbed in and took the reins.
‘Now,’ he said as his horses clopped through the sedate streets of Bath and then began the long climb up the Royal Crescent, ‘what is the matter?’
‘This is awfully difficult,’ said Amy miserably. ‘You may have remarked, my lord, that Clarissa is not herself. I have noticed she is only clumsy when she is unhappy and she is very unhappy.’
‘Her mother is enough to make any girl unhappy,’ he said. ‘She is a silly thoughtless woman who has never quite forgiven Clarissa for not turning out a pattern of herself.’
‘I think she may have had a talk with Clarissa about . . . er, hum . . . what to expect on her wedding night,’ said Amy.
He looked at Amy’s embarrassed face with affection. ‘Your concern does you credit, Miss Amy, but my Clarissa is not a simpering Bath miss.’
‘Your Clarissa is a young Bath virgin,’ said Amy roundly. ‘Please, my lord, could you meet her tonight after they have all gone to bed? I beg of you to ask her what is wrong or she will contrive to break her neck or someone else’s at the wedding tomorrow out of sheer nerves.’
He sighed. ‘It does seem an age since I have seen her alone. Everyone will retire early tonight. Where should I meet her?’
‘Away from the house,’ said Amy urgently. ‘Outside. You could meet outside on the pavement and take a little walk and talk about things. Her maid sleeps in her room but I think I know how to put her out of action.’
‘Do that for me,’ he said. ‘I shall be waiting at midnight.’
After dinner, Amy summoned Hubbard to her room. ‘You are a good and loyal servant, Hubbard,’ said Amy, ‘and I called you here so that we could both drink a toast to the happy couple.’
Hubbard was most gratified. Amy Tribble might be odd, but she was good
ton
and here she was, prepared to chat and drink on equal terms with a lady’s maid.
Later that evening, Clarissa looked up in surprise as Amy Tribble entered, half dragging Hubbard.
‘Help me get her to bed,’ urged Amy. ‘Yes, I know she’s drunk. Don’t ask questions. Do as you are told. You are to meet Greystone outside in the street at midnight. Do not let anyone see you leaving.’
‘But why?’ asked Clarissa, struggling to help Hubbard out of her clothes.
‘Just do as I say,’ said Amy fiercely.
At midnight, Clarissa wrapped herself in a long cloak and slipped quietly from the house. She hesitated outside the house and then saw a tall figure striding towards her.
‘Good evening, Greystone,’ she whispered.
‘Clarissa, although it is correct to call me Greystone when we are in company, I would like to hear you call me Crispin.’
‘Yes, Crispin,’ said Clarissa miserably.
He tucked her arm in his. ‘Walk a little with me,’ he urged. ‘We have not had a chance to be alone like this for a long time. Still, after tomorrow, we can be together all the time.’
‘Yes, Grey—, I mean, Crispin.’
‘The redoubtable Miss Amy Tribble arranged this meeting. Do you know why?’
‘No, Crispin.’
‘It is because she thinks you have bride nerves. She fears your mother talked to you about the mysteries of the marriage bed and frightened you out of your wits.’
Clarissa stopped and turned to face him. ‘I am such a goose to be so afraid,’ she murmured, hanging her head. ‘It is something, I believe, all ladies must endure.’
‘I sometimes find it in me to wonder if that mother of yours is jealous of you. Walk across the grass with me, away from the houses.’
They walked together across the large expanse of cropped grass and stood on the edge of the ha-ha. ‘Why have we come here?’ asked Clarissa with a tremor in her voice.
‘This, my love, is by way of being a wedding rehearsal.’ He took her face between his long fingers and kissed her cold lips, his powerful arms crushing her against him. He kissed her until he felt her body begin to respond. He kissed her hair, her lips, and the tops of her breasts and then returned to her mouth again, kissing and kissing with single-minded passion until her body began to throb and pulsate.
‘It will be like this,’ he said softly. ‘It will be like this except we will both be naked. Your skin will feel my skin, your body will belong to mine. Can you understand? For such as us who crave fulfillment, the nights will never be long enough. Only couples who enter into a marriage of convenience suffer from lust on the one side and endurance and distaste on the other.’
‘I have been so afraid, Crispin,’ said Clarissa softly. ‘I know what you mean. I . . . I . . .
want
you.’
‘And you will have all of me for the rest of your life. Not just my body, but my heart and head. Now kiss me again and let the world of gossips and troubles go away.’
‘Where have they gone?’ demanded Effy Tribble, shivering with cold. She and Amy were standing out on the narrow balcony in front of the drawing room in their nightdresses and nightcaps.
‘They just vanished into the blackness,’ said Amy. ‘Oh, Effy, what will become of us if she tells him she can’t go through with it?’
‘Such a powerful man,’ sighed Effy. ‘I am sure he will have calmed her fears. Did you ever see such shoulders on a man, Amy, or such legs?’
‘Shhh!’ said Amy, leaning over the balcony. ‘I think they are returning. They must not see us.’ The sisters stood back.
In the light above the door, they saw the two figures approaching. The earl had his arm about Clarissa’s shoulders. They were moving like sleepwalkers. They paused outside the door. The earl drew Clarissa into his arms and kissed her long and passionately. Amy and Effy hung over the balcony and watched with interest.
At last, they heard him say good night.
‘Did you mark her face as she turned it up to his?’ crowed Amy. ‘Love and happiness! Hurray. The Tribble sisters are triumphant!’
Lady Clarendon shook her husband awake. ‘What is it?’ he asked in alarm. ‘She set the house on fire again?’
‘It’s those Tribbles,’ said Lady Clarendon severely. ‘They must be told to leave right after the wedding. They are quite mad. They are out on the balcony in front of the drawing room in their nightgowns, cheering and dancing and cavorting up and down.’
‘Probably drunk,’ said the viscount. ‘I’m going back to sleep.’
The wedding of the Earl of Greystone and the Honourable Clarissa Vevian was a resounding success. As soon as Effy saw Clarissa floating down the aisle to the altar, a picture of beauty and grace, she began to cry with happiness while Amy berated her for being a ninny and then burst into sentimental tears herself.
To both Mr Randolph’s and Mr Haddon’s consternation, the sisters cried all through the service and began to recover only when they were seated at the wedding breakfast.
The Countess Clarendon had forgiven the sisters for their odd behaviour. Clarissa looked beautiful and was behaving beautifully. But as she saw her daughter’s radiant face turned up to the earl’s, Lady Clarendon could not help experiencing a certain qualm of jealousy. Her own marriage had been so very sensible. She had hardly seen Clarendon before their marriage. It had been arranged between her parents’ lawyers and his.
Only when the earl and Clarissa had finally driven off did the Tribble sisters find themselves suffering from reaction.
‘Clarissa said she tried very hard to find us a new client,’ said Amy. ‘But no one’s bitten except these Kendalls, and I hear they are vulgar to a fault and terribly common.’
‘But rich,’ pointed out Effy.
‘You’re right,’ said Amy with a sigh. ‘We work for a living and must always remember we cannot be choosy. We’ll call on them tomorrow.’ She sighed again. There was a long silence.
‘Of what are you thinking?’ asked Effy at last.
‘I am thinking of a certain pair of nabobs, and I am thinking I would like to crack their heads together,’ said Amy. ‘Don’t they see us as
women
?’
‘No, dear,’ said Effy. ‘But there is always hope, Amy. For any woman of any age, there is always hope.’