Rainbird's Revenge (12 page)

Would it not be wonderful, thought Jenny, to break into Palmer's office and find those books? That would prove to herself and everyone else that she was not selfish. She must find out where Palmer's office was.

‘Why ever has you got your eyes closed?' asked Cooper, twirling the curling tongs.

‘Because things look better that way,' said Miss Jenny Sutherland.

If all the good people were clever,

And all clever people were good,

The world would be nicer than ever

We thought that it possibly could.

But somehow, 'tis seldom or never

The two hit it off as they should;

The good are so harsh to the clever,

The clever so rude to the good!

ELIZABETH WORDSWORTH

‘Everything all right belowstairs?' asked the Duke of Pelham, as he dressed that evening.

‘Yes, your grace,' said Fergus. ‘Have the servants been annoying your grace?'

‘No, as correct as ever. But the atmosphere of this house has changed. It is very hard to explain. There is a restless, unhappy feeling.'

Fergus looked about uneasily. ‘Perhaps it is the spirit of the late duke.'

‘It feels more like the spirit of present and living unhappiness. Rainbird, that normally confident butler, appears uneasy, restless, and abstracted; the beauty of a blonde maid – what is her name . . . ?'

‘Alice.'

‘Yes, Alice. She looks sad. The little chambermaid has eyes red from recent weeping and performs her duties in a state of suppressed rage. The effeminate Joseph is correct to a fault and goes about his business with an air, but he occasionally flashes sidelong looks of dislike at his butler – a butler who, only yesterday, I could have sworn, was regarded in the light of father of this household.'

‘They were all up late last night,' said Fergus. ‘They are probably tired. And then they have all been out all day.'

‘Perhaps it was wrong of me to give them a day off. My friends, the Chesters at Primrose Hill, were quite shocked when I happened to mention the matter. Servants, they told me, are allowed two days off a year. Any other arrangement leads to laziness and deceit. But I cannot see the wisdom of keeping servants belowstairs in this beautiful weather when I do not need them. Unhealthy servants, like unhealthy troops, are of no use to me whatsoever. Was I too lenient? Are they discontented?'

‘I did not notice anything wrong,' said Fergus. Alice had smiled at him warmly, and so he had not noticed anything else. If Alice smiled at him, then Fergus thought that everything must be right with the whole wide world.

And it surely showed some change must have taken place in his haughty master's flinty soul that he should concern himself with his servants. But the duke now regarded servants in the same way as he had regarded his troops. The men who had fought under him in the Peninsula had found him a good leader, for he kept a sharp eye out for their welfare. Now he was back in civilian life, he had kept this faculty of noticing the temperament of those who worked under him. But there was something else.

The peaceful, restful family atmosphere of the house had been shattered. Unrest was in the very air. The duke, on the journey back from Primrose Hill, had quite decided not to go to the Denbys' musicale, but to stay quietly at home and relax. But the strung-up air that haunted the tall building had communicated its restlessness to him, and he had found himself ordering Fergus to lay out his evening clothes.

He wondered if little Miss Sutherland would be at the musicale, and then dismissed her from his mind. She was too young and too flighty. She had been charming last night, but no doubt would prove to be as vain and spoilt as ever if he should see her again.

Mrs Freemantle was late getting dressed, and so most of the guests were seated at the musicale by the time Jenny arrived with her two chaperones. They had to sit at the very back.

She barely heard any of the music, so engrossed was she in plans to help the servants of Number 67. It was only when the concert was over and everyone rose to move through to the supper room that she became aware of the other guests. She saw the Duke of Pelham and smiled faintly and received a rather frosty nod in return.

Lady Letitia, Mrs Freemantle, and Jenny were joined at supper by Lord Paul Mannering. He was very courteous and amusing, talking about plays and operas and the gossip of the day. His eyes occasionally rested with approval on Jenny's demure face. But Jenny was glancing here and there under her long lashes. She saw Miss Maddox, she of the pug-face, sitting next to a young gentleman who appeared highly amused by her company. Then Miss Maddox spilled a little wine on her gown and dabbed at it ineffectually with her handkerchief. She made a funny grimace of distress and then rose to her feet.

With a breathless ‘Excuse me,' Jenny rose also and hurried out of the room after Miss Maddox.

She found her in an ante-room that had been set aside for the ladies' toilet. A maid was sponging Miss Maddox's gown with soda water.

Jenny fiddled with her hair and wondered how to start a conversation, but Miss Maddox looked at her and grinned. ‘Dreadful stuff, red wine,' she said. ‘Such a tiny little bit of it seems to go so far.'

‘Anything spilled seems to increase in volume,' said Jenny. ‘A cup of water becomes a Niagara when it is spilled on the floor. May I introduce myself? I am Miss Jenny Sutherland, but lately come to town.'

‘And I am Miss Mary Maddox,' said the other, holding out her hand. ‘How d'ye do.'

‘Very well, I thank you.'

‘And how are you enjoying London?' asked Miss Maddox, dismissing her maid with a wave of her hand.

‘I have not yet seen much of it,' said Jenny. ‘I did see you the other night at the Bessamys' party.'

‘Oh, yes. I remember seeing you. How I danced! My poor feet still ache.'

‘I did not dance at all,' said Jenny bitterly. ‘I fear my looks are not fashionable.'

‘Did you not know what happened?' cried Mary Maddox. ‘It was all Pelham's fault, of course.'

‘Pelham! What had he to do with it?'

‘Did not Mrs Bessamy tell you? She was so incensed and called him cruel. The duke told that rattle, Mr Camden, that no gentleman of fashion should be seen dancing with you, and gossipy Mr Camden told the other gentlemen.'

Jenny took a deep breath. ‘I could kill him,' she raged.

‘Tonight he was denying the whole thing and saying that Miss Sutherland was remarkably pretty and bound to be all the rage.'

‘I wonder if my aunt, Lady Letitia, knew of this,' said Jenny. ‘But she could not, for she said it was all my own fault.'

‘Is Lady Letitia the extremely modish lady who is with you and Mrs Freemantle?'

Jenny nodded.

‘I do not think so. For she appeared distressed and puzzled. I should not worry about stuffy Pelham. You are vastly pretty. Everyone says so.'

Jenny looked in the glass. The old, familiar vain Jenny looked back. It was like meeting a dear friend again. Jenny's eyes began to sparkle.

‘I am much indebted to you, Miss Maddox, for your news.'

‘Will you not call me Mary? I feel we might be friends.'

Before Jenny could reply, Lady Letitia and Mrs Freemantle came into the room. ‘I must pin up Agnes' hem,' said Lady Letitia. ‘Go back and entertain Lord Paul, Jenny, until we return.'

Jenny darted off without staying to introduce Mary Maddox. Lady Letitia introduced herself and apologized for her charge's thoughtlessness.

‘I am afraid I gave Miss Sutherland a shock,' said Mary. ‘I told her what the Duke of Pelham had been saying about her.'

‘Oh dear,' boomed Mrs Freemantle. ‘Now she will be swanning and preening all over the place.'

Mary gave the older ladies a puzzled look, but Lady Letitia merely compressed her lips, took a reel of silk and a needle out of her reticule, and bent to the task of stitching the hem of Mrs Freemantle's gown.

Mary Maddox returned to her supper companion, a Mr Toby Parry. Mr Parry was a fresh-faced young man with a mop of golden curls and a nose as undistinguished and snub as Mary's own. His grey eyes lit up at the sight of her.

‘I have been talking to London's latest beauty, Miss Jenny Sutherland.'

‘You mean the young lady with the dark hair over there with Lord Paul? The one Pelham did not like?'

‘Yes. I hope we can be friends. I found her charming and unaffected.'

‘Would you say she was really unaffected?' asked Toby Parry. Miss Sutherland was undoubtedly very beautiful, but he thought the way she was flashing beguiling looks at Lord Paul, a man old enough to be her father, was a trifle bold, to say the least.

‘Oh yes. I am quite determined to call on her. Perhaps she would care to go driving with me tomorrow.'

‘I would be ready to escort you,' said Toby eagerly.

‘Aha!' laughed Mary. ‘She has enslaved you already.'

‘Not I!' exclaimed Toby, alarmed. ‘My affections are engaged elsewhere.'

‘Now who can the lucky lady be? I wonder. Here is Mr Angers come to join us.'

Toby threw the newcomer a smouldering glare, and then sat with his arms folded, looking decidedly sulky as Mary turned and began chatting to Mr Angers.

‘Before your aunt returns, Miss Sutherland,' Lord Paul was saying, ‘I crave your indulgence. Do you believe in love at first sight?'

Jenny gave him a startled look, and then a slow, warm smile. ‘I believe such a thing exists outside books, my lord, yes.'

Lord Paul took a deep breath. ‘Then it will not surprise you to learn I am desirous of joining my name with that of your family. I shall call at Clarges Street at noon tomorrow. Here is Lady Letitia. No more of this at present.'

Jenny leaned back in her chair and looked across the room. She was bathed in a radiant glow of triumph. Two days in London and already she was to receive a proposal of marriage. Lord Paul was talking to Lady Letitia, leaning forward and smiling into her aunt's eyes. Jenny was only barely aware of them. Her eyes met those of the Duke of Pelham, and she threw him an amused smile. How furious he would be to learn that his friend had fallen victim to such undistinguished charms. Of course she would accept Lord Paul. He was old, but he was kind and handsome and a tremendous catch.

Now what is making that little minx so happy all of a sudden?
wondered the duke before turning back to his companion. He had taken Lady Clarissa Bellisle in to supper. She was a cool and stately widow in her late twenties. She had reddish-brown hair, fashionably styled, a long thin nose, a full mouth, and rather protruding liquid brown eyes. Her gown of brown-and-gold-shot silk revealed an excellent figure. As the duke did not believe in love, and was already fatigued at the prospect of hunting for a wife, he felt he had been very lucky indeed to meet Lady Bellisle so soon. He would need to make inquiries about her background and fortune, but his lawyers could be trusted to do that. Provided there were no scandals in her past, he felt sure she would make him a very good wife. She was sophisticated and witty, and although she showed perhaps too much interest in the more vulgar side of the theatre – she claimed the clown, Grimaldi, was a genius – there was nothing else about her to give him a disgust of her. That he might be expected to flirt a little, send her flowers, or show some warmth did not enter the duke's head. He knew his worth. Any lady would be glad to have him, particularly a widow.

Lady Bellisle was complaining about the difficulty of finding good servants. The duke told her he was thinking of putting the Clarges Street town house on the market and recommended the servants. ‘I can contrive to find places for some,' he added. ‘But they are a close-knit bunch and I cannot imagine them ever working in separate establishments. I gave them the day off today because I did not need their services, but friends of mine told me it was a silly thing to do and that servants should not be allowed extra time off.'