Touch the Sun (26 page)

Usually she would have balked at being sent away in the midst of such excitement, but this time she was relieved to escape. Her leg muscles were weak as she lifted her silk skirts and ran across the grounds toward the servants' entrance. Once in her room, Meagan dashed to the window, straining to view the drama on the lawn. Panic swept her each time she remembered that first sound of Anne's icy voice, but she could not doubt Lion's ability to settle the matter somehow.

William, Anne, and Lion stood together talking for a few minutes, and then Priscilla and Marcus Reems came strolling across the lawn to join them. Through it all, Lion appeared supremely relaxed, even laughing from time to time. Before long, the group dispersed. Lion slung Flynn over his shoulder and carried him off toward the coach house, with William walking along at his side. Anne returned directly to the drawing room, while Marcus and Priscilla took a more leisurely route. Meagan noticed that he kept his hand at her elbow or waist through it all, even in Lion's presence. What a strange world they live in! she thought. And I am sunk right in the middle of the scandal and intrigue!

As she exchanged the violet-sprigged dress for her cambric bedgown, she vowed for the hundredth time to stay away from Lion Hampshire. He may have pacified Anne Bingham once, but Meagan knew that lady was not to be underestimated.

* * *

Marcus sat in Anne Bingham's boudoir, waiting curiously for the lady to make an appearance. It was past two in the morning, but there were still plenty of guests downstairs.

Marcus wondered what could be on Anne's mind that wouldn't wait until tomorrow; something serious enough for her to risk his presence in her private boudoir. The elegant room adjoined her bedchamber and served as an ultra-intimate sitting room. Propriety dictated that no man save her husband should venture within, so when Anne had told Marcus to wait for her here, he was more than a little intrigued.

White doves continued to coo sleepily in the Japanned cages which were liberally scattered around the pale blue and white room. Marcus thought the furniture looked too fragile to support his weight and expected the gilt chair to snap beneath him at any moment.

Anne came in as silent as a thief, closing the door noiselessly behind her. He decided that she looked as cool and stunning now as at the beginning of the evening and wasted no time in telling her so.

"Spare me your flattery," she said briskly, spreading her brocade skirts as she sat down opposite him. "I am not seeking a lover—this time—only a friend whose sly mind I value."

Marcus gave her a sardonic glance. "At your service, madame."

"Good." Without wasting a word, Anne explained the situation that existed between Lion and Meagan, omitting the tale of Meagan's true background she had learned just recently. She stressed the need to protect poor Priscilla's interests, finishing, "You can see, I'm sure, that after what I witnessed tonight, that wench must not remain in this house."

"I gather that this is where I fit in?" Marcus inquired with cynical amusement. His smile twisted slightly. "You must let me think about this."

"Fine. I trust you to find a solution, but we must work quickly! I should go now, before someone begins to worry. Do be careful when you leave."

She bestowed her most brilliant smile on him before making her exit, and Marcus sat back to let his thoughts circulate.

Of course, the last thing he really wanted was to remove Lion's little lovebird, for she had proved to be a perfect wedge between the engaged couple. Certainly there was no possibility of Lion marrying the chit, but the little affair left Priscilla ideally vulnerable.

On the other hand, if the serving-girl were removed, it might clear a path for Clarissa who was still fuming at Marcus about last week's fiasco. If he was to count on her continued help, he must do something to cheer her up and this certainly seemed a perfect opportunity.

Lastly, he could not afford to cross Anne. She was his ticket to Priscilla and if she closed Mansion House's doors, God himself could not get him back inside.

So, it seemed there was no choice... for the moment.

It did not take Marcus long to remember his earlier conversation with Henry Gardner and he grinned wolfishly at the thought of the black-haired wench in the clutches of that gentleman.

Morning came shortly after the last of the guests had departed. The sun was shining and a chorus of birds could be heard even indoors. The help at Mansion House was as busy as it had been the day before, undoing all that had been so carefully prepared. Every servant worked at top speed, cleaning furiously, until at noon it seemed impossible that a party had gone on in the house just a few hours before.

For Meagan everything appeared uneasily normal. No one mentioned the altercation which had taken place on the lawn; indeed, everyone seemed unaware of it, though Smith commented quite casually that Flynn was "indisposed." Laughing, she whispered to Meagan, "He undoubtedly imbibed a bit too freely!"

There was plenty to keep her busy all morning while Priscilla and the Binghams slept. It seemed that all would go on as before, but in the back of her mind she worried and was curious to know how the affair had ended. How had it been explained to Priscilla?

When Meagan took a breakfast tray up to her friend's darkened bedchamber at noon, she seemed to be her normal self. Surprisingly, she displayed no irritation with Meagan for leaving her chores half done the night before. She prattled on excitedly about the party, relating conversations she had had with the celebrated guests and remarking more than once on the charm and good looks of Marcus Reems. Apparently, the episode in the garden had been explained to her complete satisfaction.

Meagan was beginning to believe that all was well as she hurried back to the kitchen with her tray. There was little time to spare for her own lunch before she must prepare Priscilla's bath and help her dress.

In the kitchen a fragrant pepper pot bubbled over the fire, and she felt her appetite return as she breathed in the aroma.

"Oh, I am hungry! That smells delicious!" she exclaimed to Bramble. Setting down the silver tray, she reached for a bowl and spoon, but the cook put out a bony hand to stop her.

"Before ye eat, I'm told the mistress would see ye. In the library, as I recall."

Meagan's heart turned over. A vague nausea replaced the ravenous appetite of moments before, and it was with a feeling of dread that she made her way through the maze of paneled hallways to the library. Her hesitant knock brought an immediate response from within.

"You may enter, South."

Meagan took a deep breath and opened the door. At first, she was struck by the walls of books, but her attention was immediately diverted by the sight of Anne Bingham, who sat before a mahogany secretary. Sipping tea, she appeared erect and cool to the point of frostiness. In a wing chair facing hers sat a man Meagan had never seen before. His size was enormous and was emphasized by a startling claret velvet coat and bottle green silk vest. Jewels sparkled on his stubby hands and in his stock.

"Well, well," he leered, his florid face ballooning in a smile that made Meagan cringe, "you have come at last."

"Don't just stand there," Anne ordered crisply. "I want a word with you."

Meagan had a feeling that she was walking to her death as she crossed the room. "Yes, madame?"

"This is Major Henry Gardner, the famous import merchant. Major, this is Meagan South, Mistress Wade's abigail."

Closer up, he was even more repulsive. An odor of stale perfume surrounded his chair and Meagan thought that the white wig he wore looked rather fusty.

"How do you do?" she murmured, dropping a curtsy, then turned keenly questioning eyes on Mrs. Bingham.

"I suppose you are wondering what this is about? Well, I shall come directly to the point. After last night, I do not see any future for you in this house. For everyone's sake it is imperative that you go, and I have taken the liberty of securing a new position for you with Major Gardner. He has purchased a truly grand home nearby and has desperate need of qualified servants."

"Indeed I do!" he agreed heartily, his bloodshot eyes roaming over the length of Meagan's figure.

She was aghast. "Mrs. Bingham, I am in the employ of Captain Hampshire! You have no right—"

"I am merely relieving him of this unpleasant task, South. He has seen where his duty lies."

"I don't believe you!"

Anne's face was as cold and perfect as a piece of sculpture. "You have little choice. Have you forgotten your station in life?"

Oh God, thought Meagan, she knows.

Chapter 21

Henry Gardner's new house was magnificent and he knew it. Even Meagan allowed herself a moment's admiration for the huge, leaded-glass fanlight which crowned the double front doors.

Gardner had escorted her himself, waiting at Mansion House as she freshened up and gathered a few belongings. Anne had promised sweetly that she would have her remaining clothes and possessions sent over immediately, then hurried the two of them out the door with an audible sigh of relief. Meagan was not even allowed a moment to say good-bye to Priscilla or Smith; even as she closed the door to her room for the last time, one of the other serving-girls was on her way upstairs to prepare Miss Wade's bath.

During the quarter-mile walk to the Gardner house, Meagan's mind was working hard and fast. What was she going to do? Of one thing she was certain: she would not stay with this lecherous man who ogled her in broad daylight as they walked up South Fourth Street. At one point, feeling his bloodshot eyes on her breasts, she had given him the most angry, indignant look she could muster.

Gardner had appeared momentarily surprised before letting out a delighted guffaw. "I believe that we shall deal well together, missy!" he chuckled.

"You delude yourself, Major Gardner."

They came to his house then and he waved her inside with a flourish. A silent, stone-faced butler approached to take their wraps, disappearing almost immediately. Meagan was looking around the marble-tiled entry hall and into the first parlor when Gardner took her arm and began to lead her up the wide staircase.

"What do you think you are doing?" she inquired coldly.

Gardner was perspiring. "I thought I would—ah—show you your new chamber, and we can—uh—discuss your duties here."

Meagan pulled back, grasping the mahogany rail with her free hand. "I am going to sleep
upstairs?"

"But of course, my little mouse. You are to be my head housekeeper! Since I am unmarried, you will be in charge of
everything,
and I want you to have a chamber befitting your position."

His grip tightened painfully as he continued to mount the stairs. Meagan reluctantly let go of the rail and trailed along. When he opened the door to her new room, she stepped inside and gasped.

The chamber was nearly the size of Anne Bingham's state bedroom and decorated so vulgarly that Meagan wondered briefly if it were a joke. A brightly patterned Kuba rug covered the yellow pine floor and on it stood a giant Hepplewhite bed. Its high posts were carved with serpents that peeked around the folds of the scarlet brocade drapes. Numerous chairs with heart-shaped backs were placed against the walls though their bright red-and-yellow striped seats appeared unused. There was an ornate armoire in one corner, flanked by an Adamesque looking glass and one of the new tambour desks.

"How do you like it? It is very current."

Meagan wrinkled her nose. "I think it is quite
garish."

The meaning of this word escaped him. "Ah, so you do like it!" Pleased, he hooked fat thumbs in his silk waistcoat and rocked back on his heels.

Meagan spun around in exasperation.
"No,
I do not like it! I think it is vulgar!" Her violet eyes flickered around the room, resting on a door in the far wall. "What is that?" she demanded suspiciously, but did not wait for the stunned Henry Gardner to answer. Crossing the floor, she pulled the golden knob open and stamped on into a dressing room and the suite of rooms beyond. Seconds later, she reappeared, her cheeks bright with color.

"Odious lecher! Think you that I would accede to this so docilely?" She spat upon his buckled shoes. "Think again!"

By now, Gardner's utter astonishment at her behavior was wearing off and he felt a surge of rage.

"Listen here, missy! Just who do you think you are? You are mine, understand? My
servant,
and you'll
accede
to anything I say!" He gripped her arm around the nearly healed knife wound and Meagan let out a gasp of pain. Gardner's lip curled in a sneer. "Not so high and mighty now, are ye? You'll do well to remember my power, missy, and be thankful that I've seen fit to give you such a fine room and high position in my house! If you cooperate and keep your place, you'll be paid handsomely. Now, this time, I will forgive you for your insolence, but if you ever show me such discourtesy again, you'll regret it."

Meagan heard the heavy threat in his words, but she burned with an outrage that could not be cooled.