Patricia Wynn (19 page)

Mr. Sodporth shook his head again with an air of indulgence towardss a pupil. “No, my dear sir. I cannot pretend that I do. Oh, perhaps, during a walk, particularly in the springtime when nature is grand, a patient might be momentarily diverted from her delusions, but not for long. Labour, I should say, would procure a more salutary diversion.”

Susan was growing more and more alarmed as the conversation progressed. She could not tell whether Mr. Sodporth had already broached the subject of Lady Mewhinny’s lunacy to her guest or whether the discussion was purely a general one. Mr. Phillips’s emetics frightened her as much as a subsequent discussion about electric treatments and galvanism. She was about to make an attempt to divert the conversation to another topic, when Mr. Phillips turned towardss her suddenly and posed a question.

“And do you agree, Mrs. Faringdon, that our hostess has been exhibiting an irregularity of mind?”

The question stunned her, both by its suddenness and by the manner in which it was asked, for Mr. Phillips seemed in complete earnest. His manner was consistent with one who was painfully awaiting confirmation. A glance at Mr. Sodporth showed how satisfied that gentleman was with his achievement, and he smiled at her in a way that was distinctly threatening.

But Susan did not quail. After an initial silence, she straightened her shoulders and spoke bravely.

“Non!
I most emphatically do not, Mr. Phillips! I s’ink Lady Mewhinny is ze kindest, most considerate creature I ’ave ever met. And I find nos’ing at all irregular in ’er be’aviour.”

He looked at her strangely. Mr. Sodporth’s eyes were like daggers, but he made funny little noises as though her opinion, though touching, was not to be considered in the matter.

“Then you do not fear,” Mr. Phillips persisted, “that all her attention to the monkeys, admittedly unusual as it is, might be a symptom of a mental aberration?”

Susan ignored Mr. Sodporth’s attempt to remonstrate and answered firmly,
“Non,
monsieur,
I do not. I s’ink it more a symptom of ’er kind ’eart.”

He did not reply to her comment, but instead turned to face the doctor. “What have you to say to that, Sodporth?”

Mr. Sodporth had by this time decided on his choice of tactics and showed no outward distress. He shook his head with a pathetic little smile. “I think Mrs. Faringdon’s opinion reflects her own benevolence, but I cannot allow her to have the same experience in such matters as myself. Often the subjects of my examinations are so convincing in their mania that lay persons do not perceive the danger to the subjects themselves. And I flatter myself that it is concern for those same subjects which leads me to take action in such cases—often over the protests of their relatives. It is a grievous business, as you can see, but I always put the patient’s interest first.

“Indeed,” he went on with an embarrassed laugh, “it was the purest accident which caused me to be here, an invitation from my dear friend Petworthy to keep him company while he rusticated a bit. Once here, however, I could not help making certain professional observations. And when I first mentioned them to Petworthy, you may imagine his distress. The poor fellow was sorely aggrieved—almost undone!” He shook his head again with palpable sadness. Susan wondered that she had ever mistaken his smiles for evidence of cordiality. The man was as devious as a fox.

Throughout this sad explanation, Mr. Phillips had said nothing, nor did he now venture an opinion. Instead, he stood and excused himself, saying he had letters to write before the day was gone. Susan rose with him, unwilling to be caught in the room alone with Mr. Sodporth. Once out in the corridor she would gladly have repeated for him her testament of faith in Lady Mewhinny, but Bates appeared immediately and desired Mr. Phillips to wait on her ladyship in her study. He bowed to Susan, still looking grave, and disappeared down the hall.

The morning came, but for once Lady Mewhinny did not come down to breakfast. When Susan entered the breakfast parlour later than her usual hour, due to a night of broken sleep, she was confronted by the sight of Mr. Petworthy and Mr. Sodporth in the process of taking their morning repast. They both bowed frostily to her before resuming their meal.

When she inquired after Mr. Phillips, the butler informed her that the gentleman had elected to take his breakfast in bed. Short of knocking on his door, she could not think of any more she could do before Lord Harleston’s doctor arrived. And, besides, she had given him her opinion last night, to which there was nothing more to add.

The day dragged on, and Susan could not help making many trips to the window at the slightest sound, to see whether Tom was returning from London. He had not given her any notion about when she could expect the doctor’s arrival in Heathfield. But imagining all he must do in order to find a medical man willing to kick his heels in a country inn for an indefinite time, she could not really expect results that day. She wondered, in fact, that she had agreed to the scheme, for she now perceived it as impossible. Susan did not realize the power of persuasion at his lordship’s disposal as a peer, and that if he chose he would be able to gather an army of doctors at his command.

She prayed fervently, however, to receive a note soon, both advising her of the doctor’s arrival and assuring her that Lord Harleston had remained safely in London.

At dinner that evening her nerves were further upset by a new direction in Mr. Petworthy’s attention to herself. She had no doubt that the sum of her remarks the previous evening had angered him considerably. Now he knew her to be an enemy, and seeing that his plan was in the balance, chose to take an offensive tack.

“You must allow me to compliment you, Mrs. Faringdon,” he said, “on the rapid improvement in your English since I arrived.” The remark was made with a suggestion of incredulity. Mr. Phillips, she saw, took an immediate interest in the conversation.

Vowing not to volunteer any more information than was necessary, she replied, “S’ank you,” and stopped. But her silence did not deter him.

“Indeed,” he continued, “there has been
such
an improvement that I wonder if you had not had some prior knowledge of the language.” He clearly suspected her, but Susan was so angered by his tone as to override any feelings of fear.

She smiled tightly. “As you must recall, Monsieur Petworz’y, my late ’usband was English, and it was in English zat we conversed. It is only when I am just returned from France, as I was quite recently, zat I forget certain words. Zat may per’aps account for it.”

“Perhaps so,” he said, also smiling. “For my man has spoken to your maid and she said you hardly spoke a word of English when you took her on. In Calais, I believe?”

Susan nodded coldly.
Peg again,
she thought. Is this what she’s been spending her time doing— talking of me to Mr. Petworthy’s servant to confirm his suspicions?

He was hardly smiling now. The look in his eyes was frightening. “And I understand you engaged her and then did not require her services until the boat was ready to sail.”

Susan thought frantically for a moment. Angry though she was, she could not help fearing the end of his questions. “I was misinformed,” she told him finally, “about ze level of ’er services.” Wryly she told herself this was almost the case. “You see, ze girl ’ad been turned off by ’er last employers and needed a post. I was in need of a new maid, my own ’aving elected to stay in France. I s’ought it should serve. But ze moment I get to London, I intend to turn ’er off. She ’as not been satisfactory.”

At this Lady Mewhinny piped in, “I am so glad to hear you say that, Susan dear. I did not like to suggest it, but the girl is sadly lacking. Her behaviour belowstairs is quite deplorable, they tell me, and I did wonder if you were absolutely right to engage her. But it is charitable of you to carry her as far as London. There, certainly, she will be able to find work that suits her better.” And with that she smiled wickedly, giving Susan a wink, which shocked her considerably.

But the gentlemen did not appear to notice. Mr. Sodporth was devoting his entire attention to his meal, perhaps feeling that his work was done. Mr. Petworthy was intent upon discrediting Susan in some fashion, and Mr. Phillips was listening attentively to the conversation between them. Susan could only wonder what he made of it.

But Mr. Petworthy was chuckling indulgently. “That is another matter altogether, Auntie dear. How your mind does wander! I was only making the point that the girl’s description of her employer in Calais was so very different from the lady in our company that one might almost wonder if . . .
they were the same person!”
This was said with an air of innocence, but with such emphasis as nearly to be an accusation.

It was so outlandish and farfetched, however, that Susan could not help but laugh. Mr. Petworthy’s case was not furthered by her spontaneity.

“Zat is quite amusing, Monsieur Petworz’y,” she said, “But I can assure you—most regretfully, I will add—zat I am indeed ze same person who engaged Peg in Calais.”

He retired, defeated for the moment, but later in the evening resumed his questions. He enquired of Mr. Phillips if he were not fluent in French and if he would not like to oblige Mrs. Faringdon with a conversation in her native tongue. This she denied, indicating a wish not to exclude her hostess, who spoke none at all. Fortunately, Lady Mewhinny did not press her to indulge herself, which Susan attributed to her ladyship’s sense of propriety. Surely it was an improper suggestion that two members of a party should indulge in a private conversation to the exclusion of others.

Once Mr. Petworthy tried to catch her out on her husband’s name, stating quite innocently that he was certain she had called him James and not John. But Susan replied confidently that she had never had occasion to mention her husband’s Christian name before, so he must be mistaken.

It was attempts like these, however, which finally persuaded her to seek her bed early that evening. The necessity of always being on her toes was exhausting. But she took comfort from the knowledge that, for the moment at least, Tom was safely removed from her difficulties.

Chapter Twelve

The next morning, Susan descended the stairs rather late again. This time she did it on purpose, for she realized that if she were discovered in her masquerade she could do nothing whatsoever to help Lady Mewhinny. It was better to avoid Mr. Petworthy’s questions, she reflected, than to risk being ejected from the house before she could be useful.

Later emerging from the breakfast parlour alone, however, she heard the sound of voices emanating from the drawing room. She approached the door quietly and listened, but the door was so thick that all she could hear at first was a faint mumbling. Then suddenly a voice was raised, and she was certain she heard Mr. Sodporth announcing his theories with great emphasis.

Good God!
she thought. He was denouncing Lady Mewhinny now! She did not doubt that Mr. Petworthy was in there with him, and she feared that Mr. Phillips was also present and fully taken in. In defiance of all the rules of etiquette, she was about to burst in upon them to defend Lady Mewhinny’s sanity, when the sound of coach wheels stopped her. Tom!

Immediately she let go the door handle. Her emotions pulled at her from every direction. If Tom had brought a doctor with him, it might solve the present crisis. Her own protestations, she knew, would sound weak compared to the strength of a medical man’s arguments, and her emotional defense of Lady Mewhinny would serve for nothing. But Tom! Her heart filled with anguish. What might happen to Lord Harleston if he should be discovered somehow in the confusion? He did love her. He had returned. But she must run quickly to warn him. She must beg him to go back to the inn to notify the doctor that he was needed at once. She hoped to be able to persuade Tom, though, not to appear with him.

Susan did not perceive as she headed to the stables that Mr. Petworthy was following her. He had watched her from a curtained window in the corridor where he awaited the outcome of the discussion in the drawing room. And her suspicious behaviour led him to believe that there was something he could turn to his advantage—to remove, in fact, the sole obstacle to his plan.

With a quickening heart, Susan opened the stable door and flew in. There was Tom, rubbing down the horses with straw, but as soon as he heard her he turned and came striding forward with open arms. Something in her hurried manner, however, must have alerted him to her distress, for instead of taking her in his arms he took her hands and said, “My dearest love! What is it?”

Susan looked down, unable to witness the love in his eyes without responding to it. “Lord Harleston,” she said, in a voice deliberately made to sound cool, “I am afraid you must summon your medical man at once— if you have brought one with you. There is not a moment to lose.”

But his lordship did not depart immediately. Instead he lifted her chin with a gentle finger and said, “Of course I will. He is in Heathfield and can be fetched in an instant. But why all the formality, my love? What has happened?”

Susan’s defenses were considerably weakened by this entreaty. Tears of confusion sprang to her eyes. “You ought not to have come,” she said, allowing him to take her into his arms and, with contradictory logic, throwing her arms about his neck. “You ought not to be taking such a risk.”

But before she could send him away, Mr. Petworthy stepped from behind a stall and spoke with a sneer. “So! It’s my Lord Harleston, is it? And what kind of indecent deception is this? I suspected you from the outset, my girl. Weaseling your way into my aunt’s affections to get at her fortune—I knew it! But I had no idea you had a lover for accomplice!”

At Mr. Petworthy’s first words, Lord Harleston had whirled round and placed himself between Susan and her accuser. Now he had had enough. Before the villain could speak again, he sprang at him and floored him with one blow. Then, as Lady Mewhinny’s nephew whimpered and begged for mercy, he lifted him into the air by the collar of his coat and demanded an apology.