Fenella Miller (3 page)

Marianne increased her pace, eager to make the acquaintance of the girl speeding towards her.

‘Oh, I am so glad you are here, Miss Devenish,’ Emily Grierson gasped as she skidded inelegantly to a halt beside them.

‘I am pleased to meet you, Miss Grierson. It is kind of your family to offer me a place to live at such short notice.’

‘Fiddlesticks to that! They would accommodate the devil himself if he offered to pay as handsomely as Sir Theodore is for you.’ Not allowing Marianne to comment, Emily slid her arm through hers and chattering non-stop led Marianne to meet the family who were to become her own for the foreseeable future.

Quickly realizing Emily did not require a reply, Marianne had time to examine the huddle outside waiting to greet her. The tall spare grey-haired man must be Lord Grierson, he could be no one else. The short plump lady, her dark hair escaping in disarray from a lace edged cap, was Lady Grierson. The two little girls in blue calico and crumpled aprons were the youngest daughters, Beth and Eleanor, which left only the two young men to sort out.

The tallest, his dark hair flopping engagingly over his forehead, had to be the heir. Charles was dressed in battered, unpolished top-boots and buff breeches, a white shirt, hastily knotted neck-cloth and brown stuff jacket. The stocky figure, equally unkempt of dress, must be the younger brother, Edward.

The grip on her arm tightened as they drew closer. ‘Here we are, Miss Devenish, come and meet my family. You can see they are as eager as I to greet you in person.’

Lord Grierson stepped forward and held out his arms. Marianne did not hesitate, but walked straight in to receive the first embrace she had ever had from an adult male. He held her at arm’s length, his eyes twinkling.

‘Welcome, my dear child, welcome indeed. I am delighted to meet you and apologize for the parlous state of my drive.’ He chuckled. ‘But, with your help, I shall be able to put all things to rights.’ He kept hold of her hand and drew her towards his wife.

‘Here is Lady Grierson, my dear; she is to be a mother to you now.’ Marianne dropped into an awkward curtsy, unable to extract her hand from his.

‘None of that, my love. You are to be one of the family. Let her go, do, my lord, and I shall give the dear child a hug.’

Marianne was instantly enveloped in a pair of plump arms, her face pressed firmly into an ample bosom. The two young men bowed, their open smiling faces and friendly greetings removing any doubts she might have had about being associated with unknown gentlemen.

Eventually given room to breathe, and speak, she smiled at her new family. ‘Thank you for your warm welcome, Lord Grierson, Lady Grierson; it is good of you to take me in and I will endeavour to be no trouble to you.’

Surrounded by her new friends she was escorted into what was to be her home. Scarcely given time to find her bearings, she was hurried upstairs to the apartment she was to share with Emily.

‘Here we are, Miss Devenish,’ Emily babbled. ‘This is our very own withdrawing-room. Is it not a sweet little parlour?’ She allowed Marianne no time to answer but dragged her on to the interconnecting door. ‘This is our bedchamber. See, we do not have to share a bed, there is already a second one in here for you.’

‘Yes, I see. Thank you.’

‘Your maid will sleep upstairs with mine.’

Marianne knew she had to intervene. ‘Miss Grierson, please, there are some things you have to understand, if this arrangement is to work successfully.’

Emily’s mouth rounded and she stared, surprised at the firm tone used by her new sister. Glad to have the space to speak Marianne began to explain. ‘Jane is married to John Smith; they will have need of joint accommodation. Tom and Billy will also require to be housed together. These people are more than servants, they are my friends and I wish them to be treated with respect.’

‘Are you cross with me, Miss Devenish? Please do not be, I cannot bear it when people are cross.’ Emily’s eyes were tearful and she wrung her hands.

Marianne stepped forward. ‘No, of course I am not cross. But I do need to make my requirements clear. Shall I go back downstairs and speak to Lord Grierson?’

Emily nodded. ‘Yes, I will take you. Papa will sort out everything to your satisfaction.’ She smiled ingenuously. ‘Your money is a godsend, Miss Devenish, without it there was not the wherewithal to pay the bills this quarter.’

Marianne hid her smile behind her hand. It would appear that she was to be surrounded by pleasant, well-meaning simpletons. ‘I am glad I can be of help. Now, Miss Grierson, will you direct me to Lord Grierson, I wish to explain my needs before any more misunderstandings occur.’

* * * *

Lord Grierson pronounced himself delighted to house the staff anyway she pleased. A small cottage, attached to the stables, was offered for John and Jane, and Tom and Billy were given a large room above the fodder store.

Lady Grierson informed both girls that the local mantua-maker was to visit that very evening after dinner, which was to be served immediately.

‘We keep early hours here, my dear. Lord Grierson does not hold with eating late.’ Lady Grierson beamed and nodded vigorously and her cap slipped further askew. ‘We have supper before we retire so you will not go hungry, I can assure you. As you have nothing to change into we are dispensing with formality tonight. We will dine as we are.’

* * * *

After a substantial dinner—served
à la français
, the dishes placed in the centre of the vast polished table and handed back and forth amidst much laughter and friendly banter—Lady Grierson led her daughter and their guest through to the comfortable drawing-room, leaving Lord Grierson and his two sons to the port and a game of billiards.

Emily, directed to the pianoforte, played a selection of pretty tunes with verve and surprising competence and Marianne was left alone, in blessed peace, to take stock of her surroundings.

Finally she was able to relax. Unused to company, apart from her maid, the noise and bustle of a large family was overpowering. And they all, apart from Charles, talked so volubly. Her ears were ringing from it.

If she was to survive three years at Frating Hall she would have to find herself a sanctuary, somewhere she could be quiet and have time to think. The tinkling notes of the piano soothed her jangled nerves and she closed her eyes, allowing her mind to drift back over the past few hectic hours. The handsome face of her guardian appeared before her. It was a great shame he was a feather-brain, but at least he was not vicious and likely to misappropriate her funds.

But what if Sir James discovered her whereabouts? Would Sir Theodore be able to protect her then? She shook her head. For all his bulk, a man more interested in the shine on his boots than his ward, would be of little use against the determination of such a man.

She shuddered and sent up a fervent prayer. She prayed using a different name and hiding in the Essex countryside would prove sufficient to keep her out of trouble until she reached her majority and was no longer so vulnerable.

Chapter Three

‘Not long now, Miss Devenish, if you please. I’ve almost completed my measurements.’

Marianne obediently raised her arms and the diminutives seamstress scuttled round measuring tape in hand. A young assistant laboriously recorded the final set of figures on her page.

‘There, Miss Devenish, all done. If you would like to peruse the copies of
La Belle Assemblée
and
Ackerman’s Repository
that I have laid out in your parlour, I will continue with Miss Grierson’s measurements.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Dawkins.’ Marianne smiled at Emily who was already standing on the stool in her chemise. It was a long time since either of them had been given the opportunity to order even one new gown, let alone a whole new wardrobe.

‘Mama says we should only have white and pastel shades, as we are only just out.’

‘Is that correct? Well, Miss Grierson,
you
must do as Lady Grierson instructs.
I
shall do as I please.’

Marianne sailed from the room determined that nobody was going to dictate to her what she should or should not wear, least of all Lady Grierson. Her hostess had already selected, at no expense to herself, fabrics and patterns enough for twenty new gowns.

In the parlour the second girl waited, pencil at the ready, to record her choices. Marianne sat down on the shabby
chaise longue
and waited for the girl to hand her the pile of fashion plates.

Her enthusiasm for clothes had waned as the evening progressed.

‘This would suit you, Miss Devenish. The new look with the high waist is ever so easy to wear.’

Marianne glanced down at the sketch of a gown, in spotted dimity, with short gathered sleeves and a scooped neck edged with ribbon. The one was very like another. As she had no desire to attract attention, it surely would be safer to dress plainly? She had behaved foolishly in Bath, her inexperience almost being her ruin; now she wanted to remain quiet, not draw attention to herself, until she had learnt how to go on from Emily and Lady Grierson.

‘That one will do. In fact, I will leave your mistress to choose. I want plain gowns, no-frills or unnecessary ruffles and ruches. I prefer the necklines to be high and the sleeves no shorter than elbow length. Apart from that, I do not care.’

‘But, Miss Devenish, what fabrics do you want? Mrs Dawkins can’t make things up if she doesn’t know your preferences.’

Marianne flicked through the samples finding nothing she liked. ‘I do not wish to have pastels or white. Why have you only brought those to show me?’

The girl thought for a moment before replying. ‘Lady Grierson gave us clear instructions on the matter, but I’m sure we can accommodate your requirements; we have a huge selection stored in our Emporium in Colchester.’

Marianne shrugged, losing interest in the whole proceedings. ‘I care little what colour or materials you use. Just remember that I do not want fussy gowns, nor do I want pastels or white.’

‘The list Lady Grierson gave stated that you will need two evening gowns, a ball gown as well as morning dresses, afternoon dresses, habits and as many matching shawls, pelisses and redingotes as you wish. Are you leaving all these for madam to choose?’

‘Yes, indeed. I have no experience in such matters. I am leaving it entirely to Mrs Dawkins discretion. I am sure she will know what is suitable.’ She headed for the door, wishing the fitting for Emily was also completed and she could retire as the hour was late.

Holding her candlestick aloft, she stood undecided in the passageway. She had no desire to join her garrulous hosts, kind and welcoming they might be—but she could not face another barrage of inconsequential chatter. She craved the companionable silence she had shared with her staff for most of her life. Her sojourn in Bath had been so brief she had had no time to make friends.

Although full dark, there was a handsome moon which would give her more than adequate illumination for a visit to stables. She always felt more settled after spending time with her dapple grey gelding, Sultan. The sound of supper trays arriving in the drawing-room hurried her passage.

She had no wish to be dragged into share tea and cakes. The back entrance would surely lead outside.

In the tiled hall she was faced with several dark corridors which all seemed to lead in the correct direction. She selected the one on her left hand and crept along it, more like an intruder than an honoured guest. She heard the sound of male voices approaching from behind and inexplicably decided to conceal herself.

She stepped into a window embrasure, snuffing out her candle as she did so, allowing the heavy curtains to hide her. She held her breath and waited for the Grierson boys to pass, sincerely wishing she had not been so foolish. She had not meant to eavesdrop, but was given no choice.

‘It’s too light to go out tonight, Charles. We will have to leave it until we have clouds again.’

‘We have ‘til the end of the month, but if they are not delivered by then we will not be paid, you know that Edward.’

‘Then there’s ample time left to accomplish our task. The weather’s set fair and the moon will still be full. I have—’

She did not hear the reply as the voices and footsteps faded into the darkness. She remained hidden, trying to make sense of what she had overheard. Why would they wish to deliver anything in the dark? Surely no legitimate business was conducted at night?

Her fists clenched and she froze as an awful possibility occurred to her. The only thing that was delivered when people were asleep was contraband. Could she be living in a house of smugglers? No—there must be another explanation.

All desire to go outside vanished and now she had no candle. She had no choice, she would have to finger her way, following the wall until she arrived back in the entrance hall. How she would explain her clandestine appearance she had no idea and prayed she would not be forced to do so. Her luck held and she met no further members of the family. She was left with the option of the supper tray, or returning to her parlour in which were the mantua-maker, her assistants, and Emily Grierson.

She hesitated at the foot of the stairs and, hearing the sound of running footsteps, realized Miss Grierson was returning to the drawing-room.

‘Oh, there you are, Miss Devenish. Are you coming into supper? Mama will wish to know what we have selected.’

‘No, please will you excuse me to Lady Grierson, I have the headache and intend to retire.’

Emily arrived, in a rush, beside her. ‘Of course you must go up, dear Miss Devenish. Shall I fetch you a tisane from the kitchen, it is no trouble.’

‘Thank you, Miss Grierson, but my abigail will attend me. She is well used to dealing with my megrims.’

‘If you are sure then, I will come to bed as quiet as a mouse, I promise you.’

Marianne spoke without thinking. ‘I would much prefer to sleep on my own. I am not accustomed to sharing. This is a vast house; surely there is somewhere else I could be placed which would not oblige you to share with a stranger?’