VIscount Besieged (23 page)

‘
He
cannot mean to desert us,’ Cousin Matty said, appealing to the
lawyer.

‘
My
dear ma’am,’ Thornbury returned, ‘there is no occasion for all this
distress. While I appreciate that it comes in some sort as a shock
to you that his lordship intends to sell this estate, I believe
there was an intimation of this from Miss Alvescot.’

‘
They
did not believe me,’ Isadora said drily, realising the viscount
must have told Thornbury what she had said to the family. No doubt
she had unwittingly relieved him of an unpleasant task.

The family broke
out at her words, all four demanding how they were supposed to
believe anything that came from Isadora. By the time Thornbury
managed to get a word in again, it was clear to her the shock was
starting to wear off. No doubt they would very soon come around to
the notion, and, thanks to Thornbury’s efforts, feel all their old
trust in the perfidious viscount.

‘
I
can heartily assure you all that Lord Roborough has no intention of
deserting you. He has pledged himself to make sure none of you
suffers by this necessary sale.’

All too
necessary, no doubt, if the wretch was to line his pockets again.
As for pledging himself to see none of them suffered, what price
that from a man who thought nothing of selling the roof from over
their unsuspecting heads merely to pay off his gambling debts? But,
seeing Mama’s distress, Isadora had not had the heart to add to it
by disabusing her of her new-found comfortable conviction that all
would be well in the end.

‘
My
advice to you,’ Thornbury was saying, ‘is to go out for the day to
spare yourselves the pain of seeing these people walking around
your home.’

‘
You
mean you want us out of the way,’ interpreted Fanny
shrewdly.

Thornbury
laughed. ‘In a word, Miss Fanny, yes. But I do think it would be to
your advantage to remain aloof.’

Harriet clinched
the matter. ‘You are right, Mr Thornbury, and here I may be of
service. Why do you not all come to our house for the day? I know
Mama will be delighted.’

The suggestion
found instant favour, and as the family exclaimed their pleasure
Isadora found herself standing by the lawyer.

‘
I
dare say you will be obliged to meet these horrid people here and
show them over the house?’

‘
Unfortunately, no,’ he responded. ‘I have an engagement
elsewhere on the appointed day which I cannot break.’ He smiled.
‘But although they are coming from a distance I trust they may not
be too
horrid
for Hampole.’

‘
Hampole? You cannot be serious. Why, the poor man can barely
walk.’

He laughed. ‘I
expect he will manage. It is only for a couple of
hours.’

The idea hit Isadora like a thunderbolt. Great heavens, dared
she? No, no, Roborough would kill her. But why should he find out?
Hampole would never betray her. And Thornbury would not be there.
In any event, it would serve the viscount out. She would show him
that she fully intended to fight him every inch of the way. Yes,
she
would
do
it.

***

When the
day of the prospective purchasers’ visit dawned, Isadora surprised
the family with an announcement.

‘
I cannot think it fair to poor Hampole, Mama. You know how
unsteady are his legs. I shall remain and help him to show these
people over the house.’

Only
Fanny saw anything odd in this decision.

‘
What are you about, Dora?’ she demanded, getting her cousin on
one side.

‘
Never you mind. And if you so much as breathe a syllable to
anyone, Fanny, I shall put horrid creatures in your
bed.’

Fanny
was silenced, but she continued to be suspicious. Isadora could
only trust that losing herself in the squire’s maze would divert
her from dangerous speculation. No sooner had the family departed
in the open carriage than Isadora dashed upstairs to her
bedchamber. She emerged some half an hour later, just as the front
door bell clanged. Racing, she flew down the stairs, arriving in
the hall at the same moment that Hampole came doddering out from
the green baize door at the back.

‘
I will answer it, Hampole,’ she called. ‘Do you return to your
pantry.’

The butler,
however, came on his dignified way, merely casting a reproving
glance in her direction. His gaze froze as he came close enough to
take her in, and he came to a swaying halt, his jaw dropping
wide.

Isadora giggled.
‘There is no need to look like that, Hampole. You see before you
the housekeeper.’

She pirouetted,
showing off the old-fashioned low-waisted gown of dark stuff that
she had borrowed from her own maid’s winter wardrobe. She had about
it a stiff leather belt with dangling keys, and over her dark curls
she had placed a white cap with frills and lappets. But although
the costume was startling enough she was perfectly aware that
Hampole’s eyes, having run up and down her person, were now fixed
in widening horror on her countenance.

‘
Miss—Dora!’ he gasped, evidently taking in the ageing shadows
and lines she had added to her features with the assistance of some
burnt cork. ‘I’ve never seen the like, not in all my puff! You look
fifty if you look a day.’

‘
I
know, but I have my reasons.’

‘
Aye,
and I’ve my wits and all,’ retorted Hampole. ‘Old I may be, Miss
Dora, but senile I’m not.’

‘
No
one is suggesting you are, Hampole—’ began Isadora in a placating
tone, but another clanging at the door interrupted her. ‘There, we
have no time to argue. Go away, do, there’s a good
fellow.’

The butler drew
himself up. ‘That’s the door bell, that is,’ he said with dignity,
‘and it’s my place to answer it.’

Isadora seized
his arm as he tried to proceed on his way towards the door. ‘No,
no! At least, you may remain if you wish, but don’t try to stop me.
Remember I am the housekeeper and I conduct these people around the
property.’

Before Hampole
could gather himself for a response, she darted to the door and
flung it open. Outside stood only a footman, but in the driveway a
lady’s face poked out of the window of a chaise that stood
there.

‘
Is
this the Alvescot house?’ demanded the footman.

‘
It
is indeed,’ Isadora confirmed, glancing at the carriage.
‘Your—er—employers have come to look at it, I collect?’

‘
That’s right. I’ll tell them to get down, shall I?’

‘
Pray
do,’ Isadora said cordially, noting with satisfaction from the
easy manner in which the man addressed her that he took her for
what she purported to be.

As the footman
went up to open the door of the carriage, she found Hampole at her
elbow. Turning, ready for battle, she was both touched and
surprised by what he said.

‘
I’ll
send the servants round the back so that Cook can give them ale,
Miss Dora. You ask what the quality would like and I’ll fetch it to
the dining-room. You can start the visit in there.’

‘
Hampole, you’re an old darling,’ she told him
gratefully.

The butler
grunted, but said in a tone of disgust, as he saw the lady and
gentleman descending, ‘They’ll get the Madeira, they will. They’re
not quality, Miss Dora. Trade, that’s what they are.’

Looking the
couple over, Isadora swiftly came to the same conclusion. They were
overdressed for the occasion, the lady highly fashionable in a
satin-trimmed pelisse over a high-waisted gown, topped by a rich
bonnet of velvet, feathers and jewelled clasps, the gentleman
clearly uncomfortably hot in full town rig, his breeches and coat
tightly moulded to his form, his short black boots shiny with
polish, and unhandily trying to manage a beaver hat, a cane and
leather gloves. They were of middle years, and as soon as the woman
spoke, her polite accents overlaying rougher tones, her origins
were obvious. Yes, they were definitely trade. Trust Hampole to
know it at a glance.

‘
I am
Mrs Haltwhistle,’ announced the woman importantly, and, waving an
airy hand in the direction of the man, added, ‘And this is my
husband. We are come to see if this house is suitable to our
purposes.’

Isadora dropped
a curtsy, wishing very much for a brief moment that she had not
adopted a housekeeper’s character, so that she might tell Mrs
Haltwhistle to get straight back in her carriage. How dared
Roborough sell their home to such people? It was of a piece with
everything else that he should not care what sort of persons
inhabited the place after they had been forced to leave
it.

‘
I am
the housekeeper, ma’am,’ she said in as servile a tone as she could
summon up. For she was now determined her plan should
succeed.

‘
Your
name?’ demanded Mrs Haltwhistle.

For an instant,
Isadora panicked. How could she have forgotten to provide herself
with a name? She ought to be Mrs somebody. What on earth was she to
do?

‘
My
daughter, Miss Hampole, ma’am,’ came the butler’s voice beside her.
‘I am Hampole, the butler.’

Isadora threw
him a grateful look, mentally blessing his loyalty. She hoped very
much that Papa was not turning in his grave. No, he was more likely
to be laughing. He had ever a sense of the ridiculous.

It transpired,
when she offered refreshment and the use of the facilities of the
house, that Mrs Haltwhistle had attended to all that at the village
inn, and they desired nothing more than to proceed at once with
their tour of the property. This put Isadora in mind of the whole
purpose of her housekeeper act, and she at once threw herself into
the role.

‘
Ah,
yes, ma’am,’ she said, sighing, ‘I am sure you will be pleased, for
although it is a trifle untidy there is nothing, I am persuaded,
actually wrong with the house itself.’

‘
Wrong?’ repeated Mrs Haltwhistle at once. ‘What is wrong with
it?’

‘
Now,
m’dear,’ came mildly from the man, who appeared, from his accented
speech, to have fewer pretensions than his wife, ‘miss didn’t say
as how there were anything wrong with the house. Quite otherwise,
as I heard.’

‘
Exactly so,’ said Isadora, smiling warmly at him, though she
wanted to scowl. He was not going to be of much help to her.
‘Nothing is wrong, beyond the few little items that any house of
this age might expect.’

‘
And
what might they be?’ demanded Mrs Haltwhistle.

‘
Why
do you not have a look for yourself, ma’am?’ suggested Isadora
sweetly. ‘And if there is any little particular problem I have
encountered in my work, I shall certainly let you know of
it.’

Mrs Haltwhistle
grunted, but, urged on by her spouse, she consented to begin with
the downstairs rooms. Isadora led them into the good saloon, which
was fortunately so rarely used that no one bothered to open the
windows to air it. Consequently, it smelled of must, offering
Isadora an instant opportunity to implement her scheme.

‘
The
family rarely use this room,’ she offered, drawing the drapes so
that light fell on the Chippendale sofas and chairs, all gilt and
brocade, the green of which was repeated on the walls. She sniffed
delicately, holding the back of her hand against her nostrils. ‘I
am not obliged to have the maids work too hard in this saloon.’
Then she muttered, in an aside loud enough to be heard, ‘Merciful
heavens, I hope the damp has not got in here too.’

The implication
was not lost on Mrs Haltwhistle. Her ears pricked up. ‘What’s that?
Damp? Did you speak of damp, miss?’

‘
Damp?’ echoed Isadora innocently. ‘Dear me, no, ma’am. Damp?
No, no, no. Nothing of that sort is to be found in this house, I am
sure.’

Mr Haltwhistle
frowned a little as his wife snorted her disbelief, his eyes on
Isadora’s countenance shrewd and assessing. She prayed that he
would not divine the tell-tale lines on her face. She made haste to
remove the visitors from the saloon, with which Mrs Haltwhistle was
professing herself satisfied, and continue on to the
library.

Hampole rejoined
them as they filed through the door, tottering in behind Mr
Haltwhistle and throwing Isadora a questioning glance. She hoped he
would not interfere when he heard her in action.

In the library
the evidence of the viscount’s recent tenure was still present in
the half-filled inkpot, the used pens and the stained blotter, none
of which anyone had troubled to clean or replace since his
departure. But Mrs Haltwhistle’s care was to slide a finger across
the glass cabinets for dust. Isadora plunged recklessly in,
refusing to look at Hampole.

‘
Oh,
I do hope you will not find any dust, ma’am. But there, for all the
maids will try and keep the place spick and span, it is so very
difficult when every breeze from an open window carries the dust
from the farm fields. And then, you know, there are not enough of
us to care for such a crumbling old—I mean, such a
large
establishment.’

Once more
Isadora came under scrutiny from those businessman’s eyes in the
silent features of Mr Haltwhistle. But his helpmeet, catching the
slip just as she had been intended to, immediately demanded
enlightenment.