A Christmas Kiss (26 page)

“Well, girl, have you thought it over? Who took Miss Pennington from the house last evening?” Philip asked curtly.

Nancy hung her head in misery. “Can't say, me lord. I promised,” she mumbled.

“It's a bad promise, Nancy, but I'll not press you further. I think I can guess the answer to that question. I want you to get Joseph and that other girl—what's her name?—Miss Trevelyan's maid.”

“Annette?”

“Yes. All three of you are to be in my study in half an hour. Meanwhile, where is Lady Steele? Is she still in the breakfast room?”

“No, me lord. She went to her room. I heard her say she had the headache and wanted to lie down.”

Philip nodded and strode quickly to the stairs. “Remember, Nancy, all three of you in half an hour,” he called over his shoulder and took the stairs two at a time.

Clarissa answered his knock in a feeble voice. He found her stretched out on her bed, a cold cloth across her eyes. “I told you I don't need you, Mathilda,” she said querulously, without looking up. “I'll do very well if I'm left alone.”

“If you mean that, my dear,” Philip said teasingly, “I'll take my leave and disturb you no further.”

“Philip!” Clarissa cried eagerly, sitting up and pulling the cloth from her eyes. She snatched at his sleeve and pulled him down beside her. “Don't you
dare
to leave! You know I didn't mean you! It's my wretched abigail. Mathilda insists on hovering over me whenever she suspects I'm in the least indisposed. It's enough to give one a fit of the dismals. But never mind that. I've been beside myself waiting for you to finish talking with Jamie. What did he say? Has he quarrelled with Evalyn? Did he give you any information at all? Tell me quickly.”

Philip patted her soothingly on her shoulder. “He gave me all the information I needed. Prepare yourself for a shock, my dear. Jamie hasn't engaged to marry Evalyn at all.”

Clarissa gaped at him. “What are you saying? They broke it off?”

“No, there never has been anything between them. It was all my fault, I'm afraid. I leapt to the wrong conclusion when he and I had that talk the night he arrived. I simply misunderstood what he told me.”

Clarissa could not grasp his words. “You couldn't have misunderstood! Not on such a matter as that,” she said, bewildered. “Besides, he wrote to me about it himself, before they arrived!”

“I remember the letter you speak of. Think back carefully, Clarissa. He only wrote to ask us to invite a young lady to spend the holidays with us, isn't that so?”

Clarissa frowned, trying to remember. “Yes, I suppose that's true. But even so—”

“There really was nothing in that letter to make us assume he wanted to marry her,” Philip pointed out.

“I disagree completely!” Clarissa declared roundly. “How can you say so? A man can't bring a girl home for no purpose! Why else would he want her here?”

“As it turns out, his reason was quite altruistic and impersonal. He wanted you to become acquainted with her so that you would think well enough of her to find her a post.”

“A post? What can you mean?”

Philip had to grin at his sister's utter confusion. “Our dear Jamie was being gallant,” he explained. “Evalyn had been discharged without a character, and Jamie and Reg wanted to help her. You were to be the instrument of that help.”

“I?”

“Of course. It's quite logical, really. You could not have recommended a
stranger
to one of your friends, but they felt sure that once you grew to know Evalyn, you would have no qualms about recommending her.”

“I was to help her find a post as governess? Is that why they brought her here? Then why didn't the idiots
tell
us?”

“They did. But we had our minds so set on marriage plans and grandchildren and such, we didn't hear them.”

“Oh, Philip,” Clarissa moaned, putting her face in her hands, “it's all
my
fault. I was the one who put that nonsense into your head.”

“I'm the one who interviewed Jamie when he arrived. And I'm the one who didn't listen to what he tried to tell me. Not that it signifies. There's no point in attaching blame.”

Clarissa stood up and began to pace about the room, trying to adjust her mind to this new surprise. “Poor Evalyn,” she sighed. “She must have thought me completely buffleheaded. I never once discussed finding her a post.” She stopped in front of Philip and put her hand to her forehead in confusion. “Philip, nothing as yet makes sense to me. If Jamie didn't drive her away, why did she leave?”

Philip looked down at his hands. “That's the most difficult part I have to tell you. Sit down here with me, will you?”

She looked at him worriedly and dropped down beside him on the edge of the bed. “Is it very awful? Oh, Philip, I don't think I can
bear
it if you're going to tell me she took the diamonds—or something equally dreadful.”

Philip made an impatient gesture. “Can't anyone forget those blasted diamonds? I tell you Evalyn had nothing to do with them!”

“Then what is it you have to tell me?”

“Clarissa,” he said hesitantly, “I'm very much afraid that it was I who drove her away.”

“You? Rubbish! I'll never believe that. What could you have done?”

“You'll think me a sorry specimen, I'm afraid,” he said, getting up and going to the window. He stared out, unseeing, at the snow and the leaden sky. “My behavior has been utterly reprehensible,” he went on in a lowered voice. “I convinced myself that she was playing some sort of deep game—I scarcely know how to explain it to you. But I offended her—hurt her badly, I'm afraid, and I think that's why she left.”

Clarissa looked at her brother, a puzzled crease between her brows. He was speaking so strangely—so unlike himself. “My dear,” she suggested gently, “perhaps you had better start at the very beginning. This isn't making any sense to me at all.”

He turned, a strange, self-mocking smile curling his mouth. “It will all become clear when I tell you that I fell head-over-heels in love with her like the veriest schoolboy.”

“In love—! Philip!”

“Shocking, isn't it? At my age? And with a girl who I thought was to become my son's wife! You can imagine my sense of guilt, and the torture I endured. I was furious with myself. The more I grew to know her, the less able I was to control my feelings. But more disturbing to me than anything else was
her
attitude. You know, I've never thought of myself as a coxcomb, Clarissa, yet I was convinced that she responded to my feelings.”

Clarissa drew in her breath. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Philip looked at her in quick understanding. “No, no, you must not think that anything passed between us that was not within the bounds of the strictest propriety. It was just … the warmth she seemed to exude when we spoke … or the way her mind and mine seemed attuned. I would have been a fool not to have noticed. Yet she had accepted
Jamie's
offer—or so I thought! I could not understand what her motives were. I even suspected her of playing a double game—like an adventuress—holding out for the biggest matrimonial prize!”

“An adventuress! Oh, Philip, no!”

“Was there ever a greater, more puffed-up coxcomb than I?” he asked, the self-mocking sneer more pronounced. “Can you bear to hear the rest?”

“I couldn't bear
not
to. Please go on.”

He turned back to the window. “The day before yesterday—well, I cannot tell you what passed between us, but I suddenly realized that I had gone too far and … let me just say that I hurt her. I had determined to ignore her—to cut her if necessary—so that I wouldn't be tempted to any disloyalty to my son. I assumed, of course, that she would understand why I had done it. But how could she have understood, knowing nothing of the misconception that had misled me? I wonder what the poor girl thought of my behavior. Good God! What else can she have thought but that I had found her beneath my touch?”

Philip fell silent. Clarissa, too moved to say a word, watched him wide-eyed. Finally, Philip turned from the window. “Have I shocked you beyond words?” he asked with a rueful grimace.

Clarissa shook her head. “Do you care for her enough to … to think of
marriage
?”

“I daren't think of it. But I
dream
of nothing else,” Philip answered in his tone of self-derision.

“Oh, my dear, how blind I've been,” she sighed, her ready tears spilling over.

Philip came quickly to sit beside her. “I was afraid this would upset you,” he said, taking out his handkerchief and wiping her eyes.

“I'm sorry to be such a watering-pot, but to think of you in love at last is quite overwhelming. How could it have happened without my noticing?” She smiled up at him, amusement shining through the tearful eyes. “When I think of how I've contrived, arranged and schemed! How I've trotted out every girl I could find to parade before your eyes! And then you, without any help from anyone, find for yourself the
perfect
girl!”

“But, Clarissa, I've made such a mull of it!”

“Yes, you have. So you must find her and make it right.”

“I must find her, of course. I couldn't rest without knowing that she's somewhere safe and well. That's why I've told you all this, my dear. I mean to leave right away, if you think you can spare me from your Christmas dinner. And Boxing Day tomorrow, if need be.”

“Heavens! For a moment I'd forgotten all about Christmas and our guests and everything. Well, I can muddle through the festivities without you, I expect, though your absence will be awkward to explain.”

“Just tell them the truth—that I've gone to find Evalyn.”

“Very well, I suppose that will be best. But I cannot like your going out in this storm. Do you think it wise?”

“I must go, Clarissa. I think I'd go mad if I had to sit about here at home, worrying about her out there in this storm—alone, perhaps without funds, in who knows what sort of fix.…”

“Yes, of course you must go,” she agreed, slipping an arm about his waist and leaning her head on his shoulder. “Oh, how happy we all shall be when you come back with her! She'll make a wonderful wife for you, Philip. I won't have a care left in the world!”

“Silly widgeon,” Philip said fondly, “ten to one she won't have me. After all, she's half my age!”

“Well, you're out there!” she assured him with a tremulous, sparkling smile. “You're the
perfect
age for a husband—Evalyn told me
that
herself! Go and find her quickly, and bring her back to us!”

Joseph, Annette, and Nancy waited in the study nervously, not speaking. Each was reluctant to voice to the others the fear that they would all find themselves without employment before the day was out. None of them could face with equanimity this dire prospect. None of them had the faintest idea of where to go or what to do if present employment were to cease. Joseph had of course told Annette that he had driven Miss Pennington into Ashwater. Annette's feeling of loyalty toward the lady who had saved Joseph's life was as strong as his, and she fully supported him in his action in Miss Pennington's behalf. There was nothing any of them would not have done for Miss Pennington. Whatever the consequences, they, all of them, were agreed that they had done the right thing, and they would face whatever punishment was meted out. But they were far from joyful at the prospect.

Philip entered the room purposefully. Although he noticed the frightened expressions, he did not permit himself to soften his glare as he looked at each one of them in turn. “Well, which one of you is going to tell me what happened?” he asked sternly. “I want a complete and honest account, with no roundaboutation, if you please.”

Nancy resorted to gazing at her feet. Annette made a movement of her hands indicating that she meant to make a complete dental of any wrongdoing. Joseph stayed her with a gesture. “Might as well make a clean breast of it, my lord,” he shrugged. “You must've guessed it anyway, or you wouldn't have us here.”

“I surmised that it was you who conveyed Miss Pennington to her destination. But I want to know the how and the where.”

“I … er … borrowed the curricule, my lord. At the lady's request, it was. About six in the evening, yesterday. She asked me to take her to Ashwater.”

“Ashwater? Why Ashwater? Did she tell you her plans?”

Nancy looked up and stuck out her jaw belligerently. “Don't tell 'im, Joseph. Miss Evalyn didn't want 'im to know, or she would've told 'im 'erself. You can sack us, me lord, but we ain't goin' to tell ye anythin' more. We ain't goin' to help you find 'er and turn her over to the magistrates.”

Joseph and Annette turned to her in surprise. “What's this about magistrates?” Joseph asked, looking from Nancy to Lord Gyllford in perplexity.

“I don't know what you're talking about, girl,” Philip said impatiently.

“Don't think ye can pull wool over me eyes so easy,” Nancy declared bravely. “Why else would ye be lookin' for 'er, if not to turn 'er over? Ye're thinkin' she took them diamonds, ain't you!”

“Diamonds?” asked Joseph, completely confused. “What diamonds?”

“Damn it, I wish I had never heard the word diamonds!” Philip said in disgust. “Will you forget about the trumpery things? They have absolutely nothing to do with my desire to find Miss Pennington.”

“Well, then, what do ye want to find 'er for?” Nancy asked challengingly.

Annette and Joseph listened to her with openmouthed dismay. Philip merely frowned.

“I'll overlook your impertinence, young woman, because of your loyalty to Miss Pennington, which I cannot help but admire. As for the answer to your question, I've already given you all the answer you're going to get. Must I explain again that Miss Pennington may be stranded somewhere in this storm, destitute and friendless? Don't you want her to have help if she needs it?”