A Change of Fortune (32 page)

Dorothea smiled then. “My dear, how very Russian of you. I vow St. Petersburg would adore you. I admire such determination and unswerving resolve, and so I will do all I can to assist you. I will call at the seminary this very evening on my way to Lord Palmerston.”

Imogen smiled too. “Thank you. I will be forever grateful.”

Withdrawing from the boudoir, Imogen encountered Nadia at the top of the stairs. There was a very slight air of coolness in their greeting, for Imogen’s manner over the past few days had not gone unnoticed.

A carriage was arriving outside, and Imogen knew that it was Edward. She looked quickly at Nadia. “You shouldn’t trust him, you know—he isn’t capable of an honest act.”

“You don’t think I’m good enough for him, do you?” replied Nadia icily.

“I merely wish to protect you. I know my brother only too well.”.

“No, my lady, that isn’t it at all.”

“Believe what you wish,” said Imogen, beginning to descend the stairs.

“I believe that you’ve been masquerading as my friend,” called Nadia after her. “It amused you to think of me with Rupert, but it displeases you greatly when I am with your brother.”

Imogen paused, turning briefly back. “You are an adventuress, Miss Benckendorff, and not in any way fit to aspire to my brother. I consider our friendship to be at an end. Good night.” With that she went on down, passing Edward in the doorway and not saying a word to him.

Leonie saw Dorothea arrive and go with Miss Hart to the visitors’ room, but although she wondered what the visit was about, she didn’t give it a great deal of thought. The matter of writing the promised letter to Private Whittacker’s commanding officer had to be attended to, and so she took a candle and some writing implements into one of the deserted classrooms, where the fire still warmed the air. Setting the candle on the teacher’s desk, she settled down to write, but she had hardly commenced when Joseph came to her.

“Miz Leonie? Miz Hart wants to speak to you straightaway.”

“But she’s with the countess, isn’t she?”

“Yes.”

A sense of foreboding seized her then, and as she went toward the visitors’ room, she couldn’t help remembering the last time she had faced both the headmistress and Dorothea Lieven. Her hand trembled as she opened the door, and the sense of foreboding increased as the murmur of voices inside ceased abruptly.

Dorothea, glittering with rubies, was seated in the same place she had been on that other occasion, and as Leonie entered, she deliberately looked away, making no sign of acknowledgment or even recognition.

Miss Hart rose from her chair, her hands clasped before her as she faced Leonie. “I will not waste any time, Miss Conyngham. There have been serious complaints about the standard of your teaching, which is evidently far from satisfactory. In view of this, and after due consultation with the countess, I have no option but to request you to leave the premises immediately.”

Leonie stared at her, a horrid coldness seeping slowly and inexorably through her. Leave immediately? But where could she go? What would happen to her? Incongruously she thought of the outstanding fees. “But I haven’t paid all that is owing.”

“Your debt is to be waived.”

“Waived? But it was once considered of sufficient importance to make me sign an agreement!” She paused, her eyes flying from one face to the other. “If I’m to be dismissed, I wish that contract to be returned to me.”

The headmistress glanced at Dorothea, who gave a barely perceptible nod. Miss Hart then went to the drawer, unlocked it, and drew out the document. She gave it back to Leonie. “That will be all, Miss Conyngham,” she said coldly.

Leonie met her gaze. “My teaching hasn’t been unsatisfactory at all, and you know it. This is merely a ploy to get rid of me, isn’t it?”

“I said that will be all, Miss Conyngham.”

Leonie knew there was no point in protesting anymore. “Do…do you wish me to leave tonight?”

Miss Hart hesitated. Such haste would, if anything untoward befell Leonie, reflect poorly upon the seminary, which might be judged over-harsh and unchristian. “No, that will not be necessary,” she said. “You may leave first thing in the morning.”

Without another word, Leonie left the room. She felt numb and very, very cold as she went slowly back to the empty classroom, where the glow of the solitary candle on her desk threw only a feeble light. She moved automatically, almost as if in a dream. Sitting at the desk, she continued writing, and she had finished the letter and sealed it before she could no longer ignore the awfulness of her desperate situation. Tears pricked her eyes and suddenly she hid her face in her hands, her shoulders trembling as she wept.

The candleflame swayed suddenly as the door opened and Joseph came in once more. “Miz Leonie? You have some visitors.” He smiled, not seeing her tears in the half-light.

Hastily she dabbed her handkerchief to her eyes, rising to her feet just as a small figure almost hurtled into the room and into her arms. It was Stella.

“Leonie!” she cried joyfully. “Oh, Leonie, I’ve missed you so, and I’ve been simply
longing
to see you again!”

In spite of her tears, Leonie smiled, holding the girl close for a moment, but then something made her look toward the door, and her heart seemed to stand still, for Guy was there. Their eyes met and she felt a wild emotion tumbling through her. For a fleeting moment nothing else mattered but that he was there, and just to be able to look at him again brought her an immeasurable joy. Oh, how she loved this man. How she loved him….

Slowly she released Stella. “Good evening, Sir Guy.” Her voice sounded calm, but she was anything but calm.

His dark eyes rested shrewdly on her tearstained face. “Good evening, Miss Conyngham.”

Stella caught her hand excitedly. “I’ve so much to tell you, I just don’t know where to begin!”

Leonie smiled. “You’ve been gone for three days, not three years.”

“Sometimes it feels like years,” replied the girl, glancing deliberately at Guy.

He raised an eyebrow. “Thank you for the compliment.”

“I wasn’t meaning you.”

He took a deep breath. “Stella—”

“It’s all right, I’m not going to start anything,” she said quickly. “Besides, there’s something much more exciting and interesting to talk about.”

Leonie inwardly sighed with relief, for it had seemed for a moment that Stella’s rattling tongue and impetuous personality were once again going to lead her to speak disparagingly of Imogen, who was evidently the real subject of the brief exchange.

Stella looked up at her again. “Leonie, we’ve come to ask you to stay with us at Poyntons during the celebration. You must say yes, you really must!”

Leonie stared at her, completely taken aback. “Stay with you?”

“Yes. You’ll be a guest, and you’ll go to the ball and enjoy all the other diversions. I want you to come, and I simply won’t let you refuse!”

“Stella,” reproved Guy a little sternly, “you are supposed to be inviting Miss Conyngham, not ordering her.”

Stella lowered her eyes, biting her lip a little. “I know, but I couldn’t bear it if she refused. You won’t, will you, Leonie? You must be there, you simply must.”

Leonie looked slowly toward Guy. “It…it’s very kind of you, sir, but I couldn’t possibly intrude—”

“It wouldn’t be an intrusion,” he replied.

Stella was aghast that the invitation was not going to be accepted. “Leonie! You can’t refuse! You mustn’t!”

Leonie shook her head. “No, Stella, I don’t think it would be right.”

“Why not?”

Leonie couldn’t reply, for how could she say that apart from the fact that Imogen would hardly be pleased if she was present, there was also the matter of being in love with Guy?

Guy studied her. “Miss Conyngham, believe me, I would like you to join us. I know that maybe we last parted on a bad note, but I have no wish to remember that.”

“It…it isn’t that, Sir Guy.”

“Then what? Do you think Miss Hart will refuse permission? I will speak to her.”

“It isn’t Miss Hart.”

He smiled then. “If it isn’t either of those things, I do not believe there can be any reason of sufficient importance to make you refuse. Please come, Miss Conyngham, if not for my sake, then certainly for Stella’s.”

Stella’s hand tightened around Leonie’s. “Please,” she begged. “I do so want you to be there, and I shan’t enjoy it at all if you aren’t.”

Leonie turned to Guy. “If…if you’re sure you wish me to come…?”

“I’m quite sure.”

“Then I accept. Thank you.”

Stella was ecstatic, dancing around the room like a wild thing and setting the candleflame gyrating.

Guy went a little closer to Leonie. “You’ve been crying,” he said softly. “Will you tell me why?”

“I haven’t been crying,” she said quickly.

“You’re an appalling liar, Leonie Conyngham. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong.” To tell him the truth would look as if she was throwing herself on his charity.

He searched her face for a moment. “I won’t press the matter, but remember that you once promised to come to me if anything was wrong.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“Maybe not, but will you act upon it, I wonder. Still, no matter, for the moment there are other things to discuss—the arrangements for tomorrow, for instance. I’m leaving a day earlier than expected because my agent has requested me to. It seems he’s concerned about the effect of the long hard winter on a bridge adjacent to my estate.” He smiled a little. “It’s my misfortune to be responsible for said bridge, which carries the highway and is therefore much in use. Since I will therefore be closeted with my agent, and since the other guests will not arrive until the day after, you might find it rather dull at Poyntons at first. We will be the only three there.”

“Oh. Sir Guy….”

“Yes?”

“What of Lady Imogen?”

“She will be coming on the ninth, as originally planned.”

Leonie was a little surprised, for it wasn’t like Imogen to allow something like this to slip by.

“We will be leaving directly after breakfast, Miss Conyngham. I trust that that will not be too inconvenient.”

“Not at all.”

“And if you are in any doubt at all about Miss Hart—”

“She will not prevent me from coming with you.”

“You seem very certain.”

“I am.”

He nodded. “Very well. Until tomorrow morning, then. Good night, Miss Conyngham.”

“Good night, Sir Guy.”

His attention was suddenly drawn to the letter she’d written. “You’re a woman of your word, aren’t you?” he murmured.

“I like to think that I am.”

“Lieutenant Colonel Mainwaring will also be receiving a letter from me, for I too have cause to be grateful to Private Whittacker. Had it not been for him, I might have lost not one, but two people who mean a great deal to me.” He took her hand suddenly, drawing it swiftly to his lips.

She stared at him, but almost immediately he had released her hand and was walking to the door, addressing Stella as he did so. “Come on, young lady, it’s time to get you home to your bed. We’ll be rising early in the morning.”

Stella flung herself into Leonie’s arms once more, stretching up conspiratorially to her ear. “It’s going to be all right, Leonie, I have it all planned,” she whispered.

“Stella…” began Leonie uneasily, but the girl had gone, running out in Guy’s wake.

The outer door of the seminary closed behind them and silence returned to the classroom. Leonie gazed at the slowly moving candleflame, a million emotions tumbling through her. She could still feel the touch of his lips on her hand, and still hear his voice.
Had it not been for him
,
I might have lost not one
,
but two people who mean a great deal to me
.

Leonie said nothing to Miss Hart about being invited to Poyntons; indeed she did not speak to the headmistress again before leaving the following morning. Her sudden departure caused a great stir throughout the seminary, some of her young pupils bursting into tears on being told. In the kitchens, where she spent the remainder of her last evening, everyone was very sad, especially Katy and Joseph. Guy’s carriage arrived very early, and there was still a thin mist clinging between the trees in the park. It was strange to walk out of the front door for the last time, and she couldn’t help remembering how in the past she’d often dreamed of this moment. If fate hadn’t intervened, she would be stepping down to her father’s carriage now, a bouquet of flowers and two inscribed prayerbooks in her arms, Miss Hart’s farewell words of praise ringing in her ears, and the whole school gathered to wave her off. Instead she was leaving like this, with only Katy and Joseph to say good-bye to her.

It was bitterly cold outside, but there was the promise of another fine day in the glowing sky to the east. Guy’s coachman was well wrapped against the cold, and the team of bays stamped and snorted impatiently, their breath standing out in clouds. She paused on the pavement, watching as Joseph loaded her two valises in the trunk. Two half-empty valises, that was all she had to show for all her years at the seminary…. She glanced back at the building again, in particular at her balcony and the tree growing up toward it, then she turned away forever.

Guy held his hand out to her, assisting her into the carriage, where an excited Stella sat, warmly tucked out with traveling rugs. The carriage pulled slowly away, Leonie waved to Katy and Joseph until they were out of sight, and then the carriage was turning a corner, and part of her life was over. She did not know what lay ahead; she only knew that while she was at Poyntons she would live each day as it came.

* * *

Miss Hart arose just in time to see the carriage draw away. Astonished, she stared at it, and then she rang quickly on the bell. Joseph came hurrying in. “Yes, Miz Hart?”

“Where has Miss Conyngham gone?”

“With Sir Guy and Miz de Lacey, ma’am. She’s to be a guest at his country house.”

The headmistress stared at him and then waved him away once more. She took a deep breath, wondering if she should inform anyone of this unexpected development, but then she decided not to. She had done her duty by dismissing Leonie at Dorothea’s command; the matter was now out of her hands. Besides, the only one who might expect to be informed was Imogen, and after that lady’s rudeness the other night, the headmistress no longer felt disposed to assist her in any way whatsoever.