Rainbird's Revenge (8 page)

He opened the door. Angus poked the muzzle of the blunderbuss over Rainbird's shoulder. Jenny Sutherland stood on the doorstep.

‘Why, miss!' said Rainbird, backing a pace in surprise and bumping into Angus. ‘Whatever is the matter?'

‘I had to speak to you,' said Jenny. ‘Let me in.'

‘But your parents . . .'

‘Both dead. Let me in.'

Rainbird stood his ground. ‘You must have some sort of relative or chaperone.'

‘I am Miss Jenny Sutherland,' said Jenny. ‘My aunt is in bed. No one will miss me. I reside at Number Seventy-one. I only want to talk for a little. I thought you would be glad to see me.'

‘Very well,' said Rainbird. He and Angus stood aside, and Jenny, still in her ball-gown, tripped into the servants' hall. The rest rose and stood at attention.

‘Please sit down, Miss Sutherland,' said Rainbird, pulling out a chair for her. ‘Miss Sutherland,' he said to the rest, ‘is the young lady who warned us of the Duke of Pelham's return.'

‘Yes, but what is Miss Sutherland doing here at this hour of the night?' demanded Mrs Middleton, her face twitching nervously as she imagined wrathful parents or guardians erupting into the servants' hall.

‘Miss Sutherland is about to explain that,' said Rainbird. He poured Jenny a glass of wine, sat down beside her, and indicated to the others that they might be seated as well.

‘Now, Miss Sutherland,' said Rainbird, ‘please explain how we can be of assistance to you.'

Jenny looked about the candle-lit group. Joseph was holding a beribboned mandolin on his knee and gazing at her in open admiration. Mrs Middleton was looking as stern and disapproving as that kindly lady could manage to look. Lizzie's large, pansy-brown eyes were fastened on Jenny's face like those of a child waiting for a bedtime story. Alice was hemming a handkerchief. She raised her head and smiled at Jenny, a warm, encouraging smile.

Jenny drank a little of her wine and remained silent.

‘I shall introduce myself and then the others while you compose yourself,' said Rainbird. ‘I am Rainbird, butler. The distinguished lady with the cap is Mrs Middleton. The fiery Scotchman in the skull-cap is Angus MacGregor. Our brunette has the same name as yours, Jenny, the chambermaid. Alice is the housemaid, the one with the sewing. Joseph, the footman, has been entertaining us on the mandolin. Lizzie is our' – he hesitated. He had been about to say ‘scullery maid', but Lizzie had changed so much, had grown in mind and stature, and soon they were to have their freedom and Lizzie would be their equal. ‘Lizzie is our general maid,' he said, and Lizzie went quite pink with delight at the grand new title. ‘And little Dave is our pot boy.'

Jenny smiled tremulously.

‘Now, you cannot stay long,' said Rainbird. ‘Do please tell us what troubles you. I assure you none of us will gossip.' Rainbird flashed a warning at Joseph, that arch-gossip, and then turned back to Jenny. She looked at the butler's clever, funny face, at his sparkling grey eyes, and gave a little laugh.

‘I went to my first London party this evening,' said Jenny, ‘and no one would dance with me, although I was by far the prettiest lady there. I was a failure. There was a girl with a face like a pug-dog and everyone seemed to love her, and Aunt Letitia says I am . . . v-vain . . . and . . . and . . . s-selfish . . .' And with that, Jenny buried her face in her hands and began to cry again.

She made a pathetic figure. Angus cleared his throat and turned away, Mrs Middleton brushed sympathetic tears from her own eyes, and Dave gave something like a sniff, wiped his nose defiantly on his sleeve, and glared about the group.

Rainbird handed Jenny a large clean handkerchief. He waited patiently until she had hiccupped and sobbed her way into silence and then said quietly, ‘Did you say you were the prettiest lady there?'

‘Y-yes,' said Jenny, giving her nose a hard blow.

‘And what gave you that idea, miss?' asked Rainbird.

Jenny looked at him in amazement. ‘But one has only to look at me!' she said.

‘But looks are nothing compared to warmth and animation,' cried Rainbird. ‘No one is beautiful outside if they are not beautiful inside.'

‘Well!' breathed Jenny. ‘And after all I did for you, you dare to insult me . . . you, a servant!'

‘You came for help,' said Rainbird calmly. ‘It appears to me you have relied solely on your beauty and nothing else, and so the development of your character has been stunted. It is very unbecoming in a lady to voice openly that she thinks she is prettier than anyone else. Now, the pug-faced lady may have been full of laughter and warmth and fun.'

‘Yes, she was,' said Jenny bitterly, ‘as well she might be with all the gentlemen vying for her attentions.'

‘But not vain. Not proud.'

Jenny hung her head.

‘No,' she whispered.

‘Well, there you are,' said Rainbird cheerfully. ‘The next function you attend, you must put thoughts of your own appearance outside your mind. You must appear to be as delighted with unimportant men who dance with you as important. You must, should you find yourself a wallflower, seek the company of another wallflower and try to cheer and comfort her. You must not look in the glass for a month.'

Despite her shame and misery, Jenny gave a reluctant laugh. ‘But how can I arrange my hair?'

‘Your maid arranges it. You shut your eyes and think of something else.' He shut his own eyes and went through a comical mime of a lady trying to ignore her appearance, opening his eyes and appearing to stare rapturously at his own expression, and then shutting them firmly and sitting there with a pious look on his face.

With the mercurial change of spirits that bless the young, Jenny began to feel as ridiculously lighthearted as she had been miserable before.

‘And,' said Rainbird, ‘seek out Miss Pug-Face and instead of envying her—'

‘I! Envy her?'

‘Yes, instead of envying her, try to copy her manner.'

‘Why should I take your advice?' demanded Jenny. ‘It is not as if you go about in society.'

‘Oh, but I do,' said Rainbird, ‘if only in my capacity as servant.' And he added with deliberate rudeness, ‘And any one of us here has better social manners than you any day, my hoity-toity miss.'

Jenny bristled like an angry kitten. But Alice continued to sew, and the rest continued to look at her with open sympathy, as if they were her equals and not servants at all.

‘I came here for comfort and all I get is a jaw-me-dead,' said Jenny.

‘Jaw-me-deads can be very comforting in retrospect,' said Rainbird seriously. ‘You can try it my way for a little and then, if it does not work, why, you can come and lecture me on the vanity of trying to arrange someone else's life.'

‘What an odd lot of people you are,' said Jenny. ‘Are you related to each other?'

‘Only by the chains of servitude,' said Rainbird solemnly. To Jenny's amazement, he got to his feet and cartwheeled around the table, to land neatly back in his chair.

‘Mr Rainbird used to perform at the fairs,' said Dave, clapping with glee. ‘Do it again, Mr Rainbird.'

‘No,' said the butler. ‘I want wine and music.'

‘I have been listening to music all evening and longing to dance,' said Jenny wistfully, ‘but no one asked me.'

‘Play, Joseph!' cried Rainbird. He jumped to his feet and bowed low before Jenny. ‘Would Miss Sutherland do me the inestimable honour of allowing me to lead her to the floor?'

There were cheers and claps, and to Jenny's bewilderment, the servants rose and pushed the table back against the wall. Joseph struck a jaunty chord.

‘Why not?' laughed Jenny, taking Rainbird's hand.

They formed a set for a country dance, Rainbird at the top with Jenny, Mrs Middleton with Angus, Alice and chambermaid Jenny, and Lizzie and Dave.

Just then the Duke of Pelham climbed down from his carriage and listened in amazement to the sounds of merriment coming from his servants' hall.

‘Probably getting drunk on my wine,' he said furiously to Fergus.

He was in a bad mood, caused, had he but realized it, by his own uneasy conscience. For he had been largely responsible for Jenny's social failure. It had made him furious to see her standing there as if expecting homage from everyone who set eyes on her. Not quite realizing that a handsome and rich duke newly returned from the wars had almost absolute social power, he had commented acidly to one young man who had appeared smitten with Jenny's looks, ‘Miss Sutherland is a country nobody with neither charm nor wit. Not the partner for a gentleman of fashion.' To his irritation, the young man had immediately joined a large group of other gentlemen to relay this piece of gossip. He saw the insolent, contemptuous stares cast in Jenny's direction but refused to admit to himself he was responsible for her humiliation. But when Jenny had left and he no longer had the doubtful joy of seeing the mortification of Miss Jenny Sutherland, who had dared to be rude to him at a country ball, the evening had gone sadly flat.

He marched into his front parlour and stretched his hand out towards the bell. No! He would confront these servants. ‘Stay here, Fergus,' he commanded, seeing his servant sliding in the direction of the door. ‘I will deal with this myself.'

He walked down the back stairs and threw open the door of the servants' hall. Miss Jenny Sutherland was twirling around in the arms of his butler while the other servants laughed and cheered.

She was the first to see him. She let out a gasp of horror, all happiness and life draining from her face.

‘What is the meaning of this?' demanded the Duke of Pelham.

Jenny half turned to flee, to leave these odd servants to face the wrath of their master, but something made her stand her ground.

‘The fault is mine, your grace,' she said defiantly. ‘I had a miserable time this evening. I saw your servants from the carriage window and they looked so comfortable, so happy, and so at ease, that I decided to call on them. We do such things in the country,' said Jenny airily, although she knew it would be as shocking in the country for a lady to visit servants in the middle of the night as it was in Town. ‘I was unhappy because I had been unable to dance at the party. I commanded Mr Rainbird to dance with me. Your servants were obliged to obey that command.'

The duke's frigid stare raked round the room. The servants looked back calmly, and quite unafraid. Even Mrs Middleton wasn't twitching, he noticed. He did not know that each servant had just reminded him- or herself that liberty was just around the corner, and, the trouncing of Palmer apart, they had nothing to fear from the dislike of the Duke of Pelham.

‘Your aunt shall hear of this, Miss Sutherland,' said the duke.

‘Think of your aunt, don't think of your looks,' came a voice at her ear, but Jenny wondered afterwards whether that voice had been Rainbird's or a voice in her own head.

‘Your grace,' said Jenny, ‘my aunt has done everything for me; she has brought me up and looked after me like a daughter. By telling her, you would not be punishing me, but Lady Letitia. I beg your mercy.'

The duke looked down at the defiant little figure. Several of her curls had come loose from her headdress and were hanging in disarray about her shoulders. ‘I shall not tell Lady Letitia,' he heard himself say. ‘But my servants should not have encouraged you in this folly and must be punished.'

‘Ah, no!' said Jenny. ‘They were only being kind! See how red my eyes are with weeping? They were only trying to comfort me.'

The duke swung round and stared at the wall. He had not thought Miss Sutherland had any feelings at all. She was little more than a child, and he had made her cry by ruining her social standing.

He swung back and faced them. ‘Perhaps it would be better if we forgot about the whole sorry affair. Do not disgrace yourself thus again, Miss Jenny, if you have any care for your aunt.'

For that one moment, Jenny found herself liking him enormously.

‘Then you must dance with me, your grace, before I go home.'

‘No, no, no,' whispered Rainbird. ‘You have gone too far.'

But the duke smiled, that enchanting smile of his, and said, ‘Of course.'

Fergus, dreading the glorious Alice was being dismissed by his wrathful master, crept to the door of the servants' hall and listened in amazement to the continued sounds of merriment coming from within. He cautiously pushed open the door.

The duke was waltzing with none other than that young miss who had been at the country ball and whom he had seen only just that evening leaving Mrs Bessamy's while he stood with the other servants in the hall.

‘Come and join us, Fergus,' cried the duke.

Fergus promptly hurried into the room and claimed Alice's hand for a dance.

Jenny looked up in a bewildered way at the duke, wondering whether he might have a heart after all. He smiled at her and she bent her head in confusion and her dark curls tickled his chin. She was nothing more than a wilful child, thought the duke indulgently. He would repair the harm he had done her reputation at the first opportunity.

The music ceased. The duke still stood, his hand at Jenny's waist, looking down at her. Jenny felt hot and confused, a mixture of bewildering emotions surging through her.

‘I must go now,' she said, pulling away.

‘Then I shall accompany you,' said the duke.

‘No!' said Jenny. ‘If I am spotted I can say I fell asleep with my clothes on and have been sleepwalking.' She turned and ran out of the door, up the area steps, and soon the diminishing patter of her feet could be heard coming from the pavement above.