The Magnificent Masquerade Part 7

"Now, see here, girl," his lordship said firmly, "if I give you my word that we don't have rats, may I be permitted to put you down?"

"Only if you're certain that whatever it is is gone," she said promptly, letting her cheek brush against his.

"If it's still lingering about here after the racket you made, it's the stupidest rat in creation," he said drily. "There! Even you called it a rat."

"Mouse, then. I meant mouse. Now let me put you down and find my candle. I promise not to desert you until we've ascertained that the corridor is free of any and all rodents." He set her on her feet and bent down, feeling about in the darkness until his hand touched the candle, still in its holder. Then he started for the stairway.

"Where are you going?" she cried, clutching at his arm fearfully.

"Only to get us some light. Here, take my hand if you must."

He led her to the stairs and held his candle to the first lighted taper he came upon. "There now," he said, returning to the corridor and holding the light high, "are you now convinced that no creeping creature is lurking about?"

"Yes, my lord," she said with a meek bob. "Thank you, my lord. I'm sorry I ... er ... jumped up on you that way. I quite lost my head."

"Yes, you did, didn't you? I didn't know that housemaids were so terrified of mice."

"Not mice, remember," she corrected. "Rats, if you please. Rats, Besides, I'm not a housemaid. I'm Miss Jessup's abigail."

He held the candle closer to her face. "Ah, yes, so you are. Forgive me, but I seem to have forgotten your name."

"Emily, my lord. Emily Pratt."

"Well, Emily Pratt, can it be that you've never encountered a mouse at Birkinshaw House?"

"I don't come from Birkinshaw House. I come from the Marchmont Academy. And no, I never did encounter a rat there. Miss Marchmont keeps cats."

"So you insist it was a rat, do you?" He frowned at her forbiddingly, but she didn't miss the touch of amus.e.m.e.nt in his eyes. "Has anyone ever told you, Emily, that you have a saucy tongue?"

"Yes, my lord," she answered demurely, "I've been accused of it once or twice."

"I'm not surprised. Rats, indeed. I have a feeling that you'd have stirred up as a great a fuss if the creature had been nothing more than a spider. However, in this case, since I didn't see the creature myself, I suppose I must give you the benefit of the doubt. I'll grant that it is possible-though highly unlikely-that the creature was a rat. And since the slight possibility does exist, I shall help you find your candle and escort you to the back stairs."

"Thank you, my lord. That is most kind of you." Something in her tone made him throw her a suspicious look. But after meeting her very level stare, he shrugged and picked up her candle. "Here, girl, give me your hand and come along."

He led her down the corridor, covering its entire length in no more than two dozen long strides. Clutching his hand, Kitty had to run to keep up with him. When they reached the landing of the back stairs, she released her grip and made another bobbing curtsey. "I am very grateful to you, my lord," she said. "It isn't often that the master of the house goes out of his way for a mere abigail."

"It isn't often that someone accuses me of harboring rats in the hallway," he countered, lighting her candle with his own. "I hope, girl," he added, handing her the candle, "that you won't frighten the other maids with-" He stopped short, peering at her through the added brightness of the second candle. "Wait a moment! This isn't the first time I've encountered that saucy tongue of yours, is it? It was at the table last night. Aren't you the chit who spoke French?"

"Well, yes, my lord, I was that 'chit," but I don't exactly-"

"You're a strange sort of abigail, I must say."

Kitty wondered if she'd gone too far. "S-Strange, my lord? Because I know a little French?"

He looked at her intently. "Yes, I would say you're a bit strange. You're very glib in English, too."

His suspicious expression warned her that things were coming very close to a crisis, but Kitty was nothing if not inventive in a crisis. "That's because I'm not always going to be an abigail," she improvised smoothly. "Miss Marchmont, at the academy, is training me to be a teacher."

"Oh, I see." His lordship, accepting her words as a perfectly logical explanation of her peculiarities, studied her with renewed interest. He was not surprised that she had aspirations beyond her present situation; even yesterday, when she'd laughed aloud in the dining room, she'd seemed to him to be gifted with an intelligence and spirit beyond what one usually found in a housemaid. And now, in the candlelight, with her cap askew on the most glowing hair he'd ever seen and the flame of the candle reflected in a pair of laughing eyes, she appeared to him to exude a pixieish, almost magical charm. "A teacher, eh?" he remarked, suddenly finding himself quite willing to dally for a bit. "Is that what you wish for your future?"

"Yes, I think so." She was quick to recognize the spark of interest in his eyes, and she felt her pulse quicken. Was it relief that he was no longer suspicious of her, she wondered, or was it something more? "Teaching is a promising career for someone like me, don't you agree?" she asked, hoping to hold his attention for a little while longer. "I'd earn both independence and respect."

"But what about happiness? Do you think teaching will make you happy?"

"I can't tell about that. Not yet."

He smiled down at her. "Most girls your age dream of finding themselves a handsome young husband, not independence and respect."

"Husband, faugh!" she exclaimed with so violent a toss of her head that the orange-red braid flipped like a horse's tail. "I shan't think of marriage for years. Besides, I don't think I'm suited for it."

"Why not? You certainly seem suited for it." "Oh, no, not I." Her eyes twinkled enticingly in the candlelight. "I'm much too flighty."

One of his eyebrows lifted in amus.e.m.e.nt. "But not too flighty for teaching, eh?"

This gave her pause. Her face fell. "Are you saying that you don't think I'd be suited for teaching?"

"It's hard to say on so short an acquaintance. But if first impressions are significant, I would think not."

"Really, my lord?" she asked, pretending to take offense.

"Why not?"

"Anyone who throws herself into a strange man's arms with such wild abandon does not seem to me to have the steadiness of character necessary for teaching."

"It wasn't a strange man's arms!" She turned her luminous eyes up to his face and added softly, "I knew it was you." There was something in her voice ... in those eyes ... that made him catch his breath. The girl was captivating. If it occurred to him, somewhere deep in his mind, that this surge of feeling was completely inappropriate for the master of a n.o.ble household toward a servant who was no more than a child, he did not let the thought surface. He simply permitted himself to enjoy the sight of her and indulge in what was nothing but harmless banter. "I hope your pupils will not be little boys," he teased.

"Oh? Why do you say that?"

"Because in your presence they will never be able to concentrate on their books." He continued to stare down at her, noting the tiny freckles scattered over her nose and the fullness of her mouth that seemed curved into a tiny but permanent smile. Aware that he was in some way hypnotized, he nevertheless had no desire to shake himself loose. Either the candlelight was having a peculiar effect on him, he decided, or the girl was a witch.

"Is that meant to be a compliment, my lord?" she asked, the corners of her mouth turning up even more.

"I suppose it is." He shook his head admiringly. "Do you realize that there must be more than a thousand ringlets escaping from your braid? Here, hold this!"

The order confused her. "What?"

He didn't answer but merely thrust his candle into her hand. Then, still feeling spellbound, he slowly tilted her head up and straightened her crooked cap.

She blinked, completely disarmed by the sweetness of the unexpected gesture. "Thank you, my lord," she murmured.

They stared at each other for a moment until he shook himself awake. "Now, why did I do that? You're only going to bed anyway."

She put a hand up to her cap. "I'm sure I couldn't say, my lord."

"No, I didn't think you could." He peered at her a moment more and then blinked to break her spell on him. In a manner that said that this business had gone quite far enough, he took his candle from her hand, said a brisk good night, and set off down the hall. But after taking three strides he stopped. "Tell me the truth, Emily Pratt," he said, turning back for a final look at her, "was there a rat?"

"Yes, my lord," she said with utmost sincerity, "there certainly was."

He grinned. "A really big one, eh?"

"Oh, yes, my lord. Enormous." And with another bobbing curtsey, she turned on her heel and pranced off down the stairs.

Chapter Thirteen.

The next morning dawned rainy and cold. Emily, standing at the window of her sumptuous bedroom and gazing out at the grim, gray sky, found herself wishing that she were back at Miss Marchmont's school. At school her days, even dreary days like this, were full of activity. Here at Edgerton, luxurious as it was, there was almost nothing for her to do except to feel wretched.

Of course, there was no real reason for her to feel wretched. What difference did it make that the revolting Toby didn't like her? What did his opinion matter, anyway? He was nothing to her, not in her real life. If she'd met him as herself, as Emily Pratt, he would have taken no more notice of her than he would of a housefly crawling on the wall. What made it more humiliating, however, was that even at her best wearing Miss Jessup's loveliest gown and playing the piano in her very best form-she had put him to sleep. But why should she feel humiliated? The blame was more his than hers. After all, even Lord Edgerton himself had admired her that night, and anyone could see that his lordship had more intelligence and taste in his little finger than the odious Toby had in all his body! Besides, in little more than a week this adventure would be over, and she would never again lay eyes on Tobias Wishart. Why could she not dismiss him from her mind?

Wishing to avoid the unpleasant feelings that Tobias Wishart managed to stir up in her, she determined to banish all thoughts of him by concentrating, instead, on Alicia. She sat down on the window seat and reviewed in her mind the scene in Alicia's bedroom the day before. Remembering Alicia's woebegone expression when Dr. Randolph had left her room, Emily was again struck by the obviousness of the woman's adoration of her doctor. When Kitty arrived to help her dress, Emily recounted to her all she'd learned about Alicia's situation. "I think she truly cares for her doctor," Emily explained, "but everything she does seems to irritate him. It's almost as if her illness were a constant reproach to his medical abilities."

"But the doctor feels she isn't truly ill, isn't that what you said?"

"Yes. It does seem as if her condition is all in her mind. Of course, one can't be certain. Doctors have been known to be wrong. That's why I'm not sure I did the right thing in advising her to pretend to feel better."

"I think you gave her the very best of advice," Kitty said firmly. "Perhaps, if she pretends long enough, the pretense will become real."

"That's what I hoped when I said it," Emily admitted, "but what if she really is more ill than the doctor believes?"

"Then she'll be too ill to keep up the pretense for long. I don't see that there's anything to lose. When the doctor arrives today, let her greet him sitting up in a chair. That should give matters a cheerful start. I say, Emily, why don't you bring her my Prussian-red dressing gown to wear? It will give her cheeks a glow."

"Oh, Miss Jessup, may I? It's so good of you. That robe will be perfect!" She clapped her hands in enthusiasm. "And I'll curl her hair with a hot iron, and ... and perhaps she'll let me rub a bit of blacking on her lashes, and-"

"Just a minute, my girl," Kitty said, holding up a warning hand. "Remember you're not an abigail. I cautioned you be fore that you'd have to stop 'doing' for people." Emily's excitement faded- "Oh, dear, I did forget. I never dreamed that not doing for people would be so difficult." She paced about the room for a moment but then looked across at Kitty with a challenge in her eyes. "But wait, Miss Jessup! Wouldn't you be doing something to help Alicia if you were in your rightful place?"

"In my rightful place I probably wouldn't have even noticed Miss Alicia's predicament." She sighed ruefully. "It's strange, but acting as your abigail is making me see that I've been a very self-centered creature all my days."

"Now, Miss Jessup, that's not so. At school everyone thought you the most generous of friends. You were always sharing your things and buying sweets for everyone, and-"

"That was nothing. I always had more pin money than I needed. It's what's inside one that counts, and in my inside, I'm afraid, there was never much thought of anyone beside myself. Just this morning, when Miss Leac.o.c.k came for me, it occurred to me that ..." Kitty's face suddenly lit up. "Wait,Emily! I know how we can prettify Miss Alicia. We can ask Miss Leac.o.c.k to do it!"

"Miss Leac.o.c.k?"

"She's Lady Edith's abigail. And she dresses Miss Alicia, too. I can deliver the dressing gown to her and tell her you sent it. I'll explain your scheme to her. I'll say that everyone knows Kitty Jessup is a schemer; it will all be quite in character. I think Miss Leac.o.c.k will be delighted to bring a little color into Miss Alicia's life."

Emily threw her arms about her friend. "Oh, Miss Jessup, that will be just the thing! I don't know how to thank you!" Kitty, having already rummaged through the clothes chest and pulled out the dressing gown, bustled to the doorway with it. "You might thank me, Miss Jessup, by calling me Emily. I'm Emily, remember?"

Emily spent the morning pacing through the downstairs rooms, wondering how Alicia was faring. She kept herself from going up to call on the bedridden woman, fearing that she would find herself tempted to curl Alicia's hair or rouge her cheeks. Emily, she told herself, you have to stop thinking like a maid-of-all-work if you are to get through this visit without giving yourself away.

Lord Edgerton discovered her in the empty drawing room, staring longingly at the piano. His lordship was in the worst of moods. He'd been out with his bailiff to inspect the work being done to modernize his experimental dairy farm (a project in which he'd been interested for several years), but he'd been driven indoors by the icy rain. Not only had the weather interrupted his personal plan for the day but it presaged a long delay in the exterior work on the buildings. He was in the act of ripping off his riding gloves when his eye fell on her. "What is this, Miss Jessup? Are you alone again?" he demanded, unable to mask his irritability.

Emily started. "Oh! Your lordship! I didn't see ... g-good day to you," she stammered, dropping a little curtsey.

"Why is it that I never see you with company, ma'am? You must be finding your stay here very dull indeed. I really must apologize to you. I've never known my family to be quite so inattentive to their guests before."

"No, please, my lord, there's no need to apologize. I don't expect everyone to dance attendance upon me every moment of the day."

"Not every moment, no. And not everybody. But one would think that by this hour someone would be down." He took a deep breath to ease his frustration. "There's no need to tell me that Alicia is, as usual, indisposed. But can Mama still be abed? And where the deuce is Toby?"

"This is just the sort of morning one should stay late abed," Emily a.s.sured him soothingly. "May I send for Naismith, my lord, and order some tea for you? You must be chilled through."

His irritation drained away, and he gazed at her admiringly. "You are so good-natured, Miss Jessup, that you put me to shame. Thank you. Tea would be most welcome, particularly so if you join me. But tell me, my dear, why do I never see you at the piano? Surely a talent like yours must have been developed by hours of practice. Don't you care to practice here?"

"I would love to practice here," Emily admitted, "especially since I've never before played on so fine an instrument.

But I was afraid I would disturb the household with my noise."

"Disturb the household? Don't be foolish, child. The walls are so thick that the sound couldn't carry very far. And as for your 'noise," as you call it, I fear that the only disturbance would be that everyone would feel tempted to gather round the door to listen to your music instead of attending to business. Please, Miss Jessup, I pray you, make use of the instrument whenever and for so long as you like."

They had their tea, after which Lord Edgerton excused himself. She must have flown to the piano immediately after he turned his back, for he heard her first chords before he'd closed the door behind him. He paused for a while at the door listening to her rendition of a Beethoven sonata before forcing himself to depart. He had a mission that could not be postponed.

A moment later he stalked into Toby's bedroom, tore the covers from the bed, and yanked the stupefied Toby to his feet. "You dashed bobbing-block," he ' swore between clenched teeth, "where is your breeding? Have you no manners at all?"

"Greg? Somethin' th' matter?" Toby asked, blinking and swaying on unsteady legs. "What've I done now?" Edgerton glared at him and then let him fall back on the bed. "It's what you haven't done, you cursed jackanapes!

Why aren't you courting the girl? Every time I come across her, the poor chit is alone! If she were merely an ordinary guest in this house, she'd have a right to expect more attention than she's been given, but the girl is more than that. She expects to be your betrothed, confound it! What must she be thinking? If this is the sort of neglect she has to endure in the courting period, what can she be expecting of the marriage? That you'll send her an occasional letter from distant parts and pay her a visit every Christmas?"

"Is it my fault she's a bore?" Toby muttered in sullen self defense.

"She is not a bore. She is just a bit shy. You can't expect a young girl without experience to shine in strange surroundings, especially when you've made it clear you're disappointed in her. She needs drawing out, that's all."

Toby ruffled up his hair with despairing hands. "Dash it all, Greg, I don't know how to draw her out!"

"That's rubbish. You've plenty of experience flirting with females. Just spend some time with. her and see what happens."

"How can I spend time with her? She don't do anything."

"What do you mean by that? What have you asked her to do that she couldn't?"

"She don't play cards, for one thing. The girl admitted to me that she'd never even played silver-loo!"

"She's cozening you. Lord Birkinshaw's daughter never played silver-loo? Impossible!"

"But that's what she said. And when I offered to go riding with her yesterday, she said she didn't ride."

"Didn't ride?" Greg's brows rose in astonishment. "That really is rubbish! Birkinshaw once told me that at the age of twelve the little minx stole a gelding from his stables and, dressed up like a tiger, raced the animal through the five o'clock crush at Hyde Park so skillfully that the Regent sent an offer to hire her for his own stables. When he heard that the impressive tiger was none other than Birkinshaw's daughter, he invited the child to ride with him the very next morning." Toby threw up his hands in a gesture of utter confusion. "Then why did she say she didn't ride?"

"I don't know. There's a great deal about Miss Kitty Jessup that puzzles me, I admit. Perhaps Birkinshaw said some idiotic thing to her to make her fearful of us. We'll get to the bottom of it one of these days." He sat down beside his brother and put an arm over his shoulder. "But in the mean time, Toby, do your best to entertain the girl. Talk to her. Take her riding, even if she says she doesn't ride. Tell her you'll teach her. If you make her feel at home, she'll be more likely to show her true colors. It's already plain to me that she's out of the ordinary. If you give her a chance, she may make it plain to you, too."

Toby made a face. "I'll give it a try, Greg. But if it would come to pa.s.s that I find her out of the ordinary, it'd be a blasted miracle!"