Mary Blayney - [Pennistan 03] (33 page)

“Those people are not Jacobins, Meryon. They are men looking for work and a way to feed their families.”

“Which, I imagine, is exactly what the French aristocrats first said about the Jacobins.”

G
ABRIEL AND HIS WIFE
had gone to the theater, which left Meryon and Garrett to have a late dinner together.

Meryon went to his suite determined to write the note and send it before he saw Signora Verano again. It was the most urgent charge on his time but not the most important.

Garrett had gone out as well, and Meryon would bet his favorite stickpin that Garrett would make the rounds of the parties and see what stories The Gossips bandied about regarding tonight’s incident. Meryon had no doubt The Gossips would hear through that mysterious manner of communication they kept such a tight secret.

Moving as quietly as always, his valet left wine at the duke’s right hand.

“Blix.”

The valet turned around, his face an obsequious mask. “Yes, Your Grace?

“Did you hear of my experiences today?”

“Yes, Your Grace. The boy, Wilson, had everyone’s attention at supper and made the most of his moment. He said that you single-handedly rescued a woman in distress and beat off several men who would have done her injury and, later in the mews and with Magda’s help, bested the same ruffians who came looking for revenge.”

“That is more imagination than truth, Blix.” Meryon rubbed his forehead as he spoke.

“I do not doubt your words, Your Grace, but your clothes were in a disreputable state.”

“Part of my disguise, so no one would think that I was an agent provocateur or, worse, an aristocrat.”

“Very well, Your Grace.”

He turned to leave and Meryon smiled. He might lose a valet tonight, but he was curious.

“Blix, tell me, do you have an opinion on the current state of the economy?”

Blix had his hand on the doorknob, but he let go of it and turned around.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Explain it to me.”

Meryon wanted to laugh out loud at the shock on his valet’s face.

“You want my opinion, Your Grace?”

“Yes.”

“I read the papers.”

“You are the second person to say that to me since noon today. Does what you read help you form an opinion?” This was like teaching Rexton to play chess. Laborious. He was not sure it was worth the effort.

“No, Your Grace.” Blix stared at his shoes for a long moment and Meryon decided his valet’s answer might be worth his patience after all. “In fact, Your Grace, I was in Russell Square today.”

“You were?” Now it was his turn for shock. Was that the slightest bit of bravado he heard in his valet’s voice?

“Yes. I was curious.”

Meryon wondered what that meant. “Tell me what you thought of the speeches.”

“The crowd was more impressive than the speeches. There were so many people, and one must assume they were out of work. I had no idea there were that many people desperate for a position.”

Meryon folded his hands on the top of his desk and leaned across them. “If they are desperate for work, then soon they will be desperate for food and shelter.”

“Absolutely true, Your Grace.” Blix took a step closer to the duke and there was definitely enthusiasm in his voice now. “Does Parliament have a plan?”

“Not that I know of, but I do. I am preparing a bill to provide food and shelter and training for widows and orphans.”

“But we have the poorhouses.”

“Which are woefully inadequate and tend to perpetuate the problem. Training is the important part of this
proposal. Train them how to do the work that is springing up everywhere, in factories especially.”

Blix nodded but did not seem willing to commit himself any further.

“Change is in the wind, Blix, and we are fools if we think that life will stay the same. We will always be a country of farmers, but the farm must learn to coexist with the new manufacturing enterprises. The best we can hope for is that we can control it before it takes control of us. My proposal for care and training is aimed at that. If I can convince those who invest in manufacturing to support the care and training, the project will be self-sustaining.”

“It’s an excellent idea, Your Grace. It could work. But first you have to convince the others in Parliament.”

“Well, I made the first step tonight.” Meryon leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “I convinced you. I want you to know that I would welcome any further wisdom you would care to share.”

“As you wish, Your Grace.”

He spoke halfheartedly this time and Meryon realized he might be asking too much. Meryon watched the servant steadily and willed him to speak. Blix merely waited attentively.

“Aha, you see, Blix, it is not only the titled and wealthy who are afraid of change. If the two of us, who are practically in each other’s pockets, cannot exchange ideas and information, then how am I to do it with complete strangers?”

“There is one more thing.”

“Yes.” It sounded as though a confession was coming, and indeed Blix squared his shoulders as though willing to take a bullet for what he was about to say.

“It was my half-day off, today, Your Grace, and I thought that I would walk, as I often do, which is how I happened to be near Russell Square. I went to Bloomsbury to acquaint myself with the residence of Signora Verano. To see her in person if I could.”

Meryon waited, not at all happy with this revelation.

“I was under the impression from some conversations I overheard that you were going to be seeing rather a lot of the lady and I wanted to know what she looked like, what colors she favored, and if I should consider changing your style to complement hers.”

“Quite a speech, Blix. I had no idea that such was one of the responsibilities of a valet.”

Blix bowed at the rebuke. “Mr. Brummell always said that the employer was a valet’s best advertisement. Your Grace, you are not the slightest bit interested in what you wear as long as it is clean and well made. A family trait, so Lady Olivia’s maid tells me. If you will beg my pardon, Your Grace, it is in both of our best interests for you to appear at your best in all situations.”

It was as though he had started a flood. Blix had not said this much in total in the five years that he had been Meryon’s valet.

“I stand corrected. Now I will correct you. Signora Verano has made it clear that she is not interested in anything more than the most occasional acquaintance. So I do believe that your trip to Bedford Place was for naught.”

“I see, Your Grace.”

Yes, I’m sure he does
, Meryon thought. “Tell me who told you of my interest in the Signora.”

Blix gestured toward the settee. “You did, Your Grace, when you discussed it with Magda.”

Meryon laughed, truly laughed. He was indeed his own worst enemy. “Thank you, Blix. Thank you very much.”

Now Blix did smile, almost a grin. The valet bowed. “You are welcome, Your Grace.” He closed the door behind him, leaving Meryon to wonder if that was the first time he had ever thanked the man.

Reaching for his wine, he took a sip and then a longer drink, thinking he could easily down the whole bottle. His understanding of both women and servants left a great deal to be remedied. It made him wonder who else he might have been underestimating.

The pen and paper waited. The note still had to be written.

How he wished this note was a beginning and not an ending. If Elena had agreed to live in the house on St. German Street, he would be sending her a message telling her when to expect him, along with a book of poetry with a marker at his favorite. Not one from the erotic collection, but something more romantic. Then when they were together, no words would be necessary.

If this had been the beginning instead of the end they would have hours and days and months and years to share everything.

If thoughts of what-might-have-been were his punishment,
then his wrong had been colossal. As Meryon dipped the pen in ink and wrote the date, he accepted that the last few days would be all he would have of Elena Verano.

Those few hours were better than nothing at all.

T
INA, WILL YOU PLEASE
go tell Mia that if she wants her gowns to be ready for her first ball then this had best
not
be one of the occasions when she chooses to say no.”

“Yes, signora.”

“I will wait in the blue salon.”

Elena walked into the salon and right over to the Canaletto. She refused to go upstairs, but the blue salon was not much better. Elena could swear she could still feel Meryon here, smell the intoxicating sandalwood scent he favored. If she went up to hurry Mia along, Elena knew she would be drawn into her sitting room, to her desk where the soot-stained letter awaited her.

It was still readable. Reason had overcome her moment of anger when the thing arrived, and Elena had
pulled the letter from the fire before the paper took heat and went up in flames.

Now she had only to decide to open it. Once she had read Meryon’s apology Elena could put this behind her and build a life around what she treasured the most, her music and her friends.

“I am so sorry, signora, but you must come up. Mia is in tears and begs to talk to you.”

Mia crying? That was as rare as rain in the desert. Elena hurried up the stairs with unladylike speed, giving up any hope of arriving on time. There were some things more important than making a dressmaker wealthy.

When Elena went into Mia’s room, the girl was well on the way to making herself sick from crying. “I am so sorry, Elena. I should never have been so rude to you and I want to tell you how sorry I am.” The girl gasped the words out through tears.

Elena sat down on the bed and began rubbing Mia’s back. “Stop crying and catch your breath,
cara
.“

Mia nodded and with noisy breaths controlled her tears. It took another few minutes for her distress to ease.

“It is so hard to stay home when everyone else is having such a good time and I have to sit here until after Easter.” She said the last word as though it were at least ten years away instead of ten days.

“I know, Mia. Believe me when I say that I felt the same way once. But the waiting is over. Please understand that I haven’t done this to be mean but because the more secure my place in society, the more invitations you will
receive.” Elena bit her lip to keep from laughing at Mia’s expression.

“Is that why you were trying to be friends with the Duke of Meryon. For me?” Thankfully she did not wait for an answer but went on. “But that is why I was so awful. I was jealous of him. I thought that you were falling in love with him and were going to forget all about me. Oh, I am a selfish, selfish girl.”

She hung her head and Elena had to press her lips together to keep from mentioning that the entire world did not revolve around Mia’s needs.

“Mia, I want you to pat your face with cold water and have Tina help you dress. I will send word to LaVergne and ask if we can come in an hour. We are giving her so much business I hope she will be accommodating.”

Mia laughed, a sure indication that the tear storm was over.

“I will be in my suite. Please send Tina to tell me when you are ready.”

Once Elena was in her sitting room, she gave up the fight and sat at her desk to read the duke’s letter. She spread the paper before her and read the note in less than a minute. It was short and she stared at the paper. It was exactly what she expected and not at all what she wanted.

She read it again. This time each word sealed his fate.

She ripped the note into ten small pieces, and tossed it into the fire. It disappeared in a smoky, black curl, which was all the words were worth.