Maggie MacKeever (17 page)

“Hallo, Lady March!” he uttered when he reached her side. To his surprise, she gasped and turned pale.

“Oh, it’s you!” Nell said, somewhat inanely, and made a visible effort to collect herself. “Thank goodness! I mean—you took me by surprise!”

Why Lady March should be surprised to be addressed in a roomful of people, Fergus couldn’t guess. “You did
invite me!” he stiffly pointed out.

“So I did! I did not mean I hadn’t!” Eleanor toyed with her necklace, an enormous diamond cut as a rose, in a simple gold setting with a hanging pearl. In point of fact, decided Fergus, Lady March was wearing a prodigious amount of jewelry this evening, including a heavy gold chain set with pearls, a parure of pearls of immense size and beauty, a diamond and gold breast ornament in the form of a bouquet of flowers, and a bracelet with diamonds and emeralds and rubies set in enameled gold. Though Fergus was not so ill-bred as to criticize his hostess, he did reflect that he had not suspected her of having such gaudy taste.

“Oh, dear!” added Eleanor, with her irresistible crooked smile. “I do sound like a zany! Pray forgive me! Things have been at sixes and sevens for so long—and perhaps I need not tell you that Henrietta has been no help! But where is Lady Katherine? Did she not accompany you?”

“I regret that she did not.” Surely the baron need not be condemned for this little fib. “I must render my mother’s regrets. The, er, exigencies of city life have been too much for her. She is temporarily indisposed.”

“I am sorry to hear it,” fibbed Nell in turn. At least she need not add worry that Lady Katherine would make a scene to her fear of momentary exposure by the angry owners of the stolen jewelry with which she was draped. Mab’s theory was that if sight of the jewels didn’t goad Jane to action, they might spark a telling reaction from someone else.

How Jane was to observe the jewels, Mab had failed to explain; the creature would hardly dare push into the long gallery, though she was still in the house, it having been discovered she could sew a tidy seam. As for otherwise smoking out the culprits—Privately, Nell doubted she would recognize a guilty reaction if it took place under her very nose. But better she should run the risk of disclosure than Marriot. She surveyed her guests, wondering if any among them knew more about her husband’s recent activities than she did, or had hit him on the head. Not until Lord Parrington cleared his throat did Lady March realize that she was guilty of neglect.

“I am so sorry!” Nell clasped her hands tightly together.
“What
you must think of me! I was going over the supper menu in my mind, and hoping the cook has got it right. But I know you will not want to hear such stuff!” She gazed helplessly about, but could see no more than a few feet, so thick was the crowd. “Doubtless you would like to speak with Mab.”

Lord Parrington was not certain what he wished to do with Lady Amabel, but among the various possibilities he had recently considered was nothing so mundane as speech. “Perhaps later,” he responded. “For the moment, Lady March, I am quite content to converse with
you
.”

With her? Nell—all this time nodding and smiling and exchanging words of greeting with her other guests—wondered what prompted the baron’s oddly pointed remark. Then she recalled that Lord Parrington was thought to admire her. Covertly, she regarded him. Very fine he looked in evening breeches and striped silk stockings, exquisite cravat, frilled shirt with high points, white waistcoat, blue coat with very long tails. “Oh!” said she.

That Lady March was no brilliant conversationalist, Fergus had already realized. Perhaps when she was less on the fidgets she had more to say. But
why
was she on the fidgets? Lady March had yet to put forth a reasonable explanation. Was this the behavior of a female whose spouse’s conduct was above reproach? Could Eleanor’s nonchalance be a sham?

Though Nell did not especially wish to speak with Fergus—or anyone!—she thought she must. Perhaps hope yet remained for the happy outcome of Mab’s romance. If only Mab could refrain from being caught out in compromising positions for the nonce! “I fear dear Amabel is sometimes a little impulsive. Even her papa will agree with me, I think—although it is his fault for having kept her on so loose a rein! You must not hold Mab’s high spirits against her, Lord Parrington. I am presumptuous, I know, but Mab is a very good girl.”

Fergus had little desire to speak of Mab, whom he’d just glimpsed in animated conversation with Lord March. “I am sure you must have a better idea of what Lady Amabel is and isn’t than I!” he responded coolly. “I do not think it would be ungallant in me to say her manners are not what I can
like.”

Nell eyed the baron. Here was starch! Still, if Mab wanted a young man so very high in the instep—“You are feeling a little out-of-sorts,” she soothed, “because Mab called you a dull stick. But you had just finished saying you would marry her from a sense of duty, and no young lady likes to hear that! Perhaps if you were to try and be a little more romantic—”

Nor did young gentlemen care to hear they were inexpert in matters of the heart. “Hah!” Fergus snapped. “It’s hard to be romantic when you’ve just seen the young lady you’re being romantic
about
hugging another man!”

“Hugging—oh, you mean Marriot!” This exchange was proving so engrossing that Eleanor temporarily forgot she was decked out in stolen gems. “That doesn’t signify! Mab is just the sort of miss that people
do
wish to embrace!”

Though Fergus might admire his companion’s lack of jealousy, he did not aspire to such himself. “I applaud your forbearance, ma’am,” he said sincerely. Lady March was convinced her husband harbored no improper feelings toward Amabel, and Fergus could hardly insist otherwise. He sought for diplomacy. “A person doesn’t always know when another person is less than he should be.”

Lord Parrington now spoke in riddles? So that other among her guests might not be tempted to try and solve his puzzles, Eleanor drew Fergus back beside a draw table, the top of which was inlaid with Elizabethan musical instruments and pieces of music worked in various woods. “Surely what a person may be cannot be so bad as all that!” she soothed, under the impression that the baron still smarted under Mab’s description of him.

How noble! How truly tolerant! thought Fergus; but how did one offer consolation to a lady who appeared unaware she was in need? Perhaps a gentle hint—? “Lady March, I suspect it may be worse!”
said he.

Worse than what? Nell glanced around in search of her husband, but such was the press of elegant bodies that she had an unobstructed view only of the richly embossed ceiling. “Oh, surely not!” she repeated. “It is all a misunderstanding, mark my words. One must not be too hasty to think oneself trifled with.”

“Neither must one blind oneself to the facts,” Fergus responded. “Some situations quite surpass human endurance, Lady March!”

What the
devil
was the baron prattling on about? It was difficult to concentrate on such a farrago of nonsense when important things were at stake. How had Marriot gotten mixed up with stolen jewels? Nell frowned at Fergus. “Good gracious! Is
that
what you’re hinting at?”

What Fergus had been hinting at, precisely, was his own keen disapprobation concerning fellows who went about blatantly embracing other fellow’s prospective brides, a topic upon which manly modesty forbade him to speak outright. Now that Lady March had grasped his meaning—and mighty calm she was about it!—he fancied he could be a little more direct. “It is. I am sorry you had to learn about it in this way.”

In what way? She had learned nothing! Eleanor reminded herself that this aggravating young gentleman was a guest in her home, and therefore she was prohibited doing him assault. Not that Nell was ordinarily prone to violence. It was very
hard
to be posed a conundrum, however, when one was already on needles and pins. “I must mingle with my other guests! Pray accompany me, Lord Parrington, so that we may speak further of this.”

Never had he known anyone so phlegmatic, decided Fergus as he followed his hostess down the long room, which had been used long ago as a winter promenade. Past stately buffets and inlaid cabinets and ponderous chests they perambulated, heavy oaken furniture embellished with intricately carved animals and flowers. The baron wondered if Lady March’s
dégagé
attitude was inbred, or born of the discovery that her husband was an inveterate philanderer. How long had poor Eleanor lived with the scoundrel’s peccadilloes? One could hardly ask.

Abruptly, Fergus scowled, having just remembered whom Lord March was currently philandering
with.
Where were they? The baron craned his neck. Ah, yes. March had not deserted Mab—who was looking positively adorable in a trained open robe of Salisbury dugget over white sarcenet, and on her curls a charming white lace cap. Lord March, in mulberry velvet, looked scarcely less fetching, though we must not expect Fergus to appreciate that fact.

Mab appeared to be enjoying herself, Fergus gloomily thought. He had missed her more than he expected. But Lady March was speaking to him. Fergus returned his attention to her ladyship who, in addition to all her jewelry, was wearing an evening robe of black velvet trimmed with gold lace. Were all those baubles conscience gifts from her errant spouse? “Those are prodigious fine jewels you are wearing!” Fergus said.

So he
had
been hinting that he knew something of the jewels! Eleanor clutched the heavy pearl-set golden chain. What did he know, precisely? She must find out. “Let us play no further games with one another!” Nell said sternly. “What is it you’re hinting at?”

“I think you know that, Lady March.” Fergus watched her sink down amid the embroidered velvet cushions in a square oak chair. “This is a sad business. I extend you my sympathy.”

“You—oh!” Fergus must know the jewels had been stolen, else he would not speak in such a manner. “How did you find out?”

A foolish question, surely? Lord Parrington reminded himself that his hostess must be under a grave strain. To tolerate a husband’s philandering was one matter; to tolerate it under one’s own roof quite another. Scant wonder her ladyship was starting at a sound!

How anxiously she looked at him. “You need not fear I shall speak of this,” Fergus said kindly. “Not even to my mama! As to how I know of it—Have you forgot? I was there.”

How could she have forgotten what she didn’t know? Nell’s head began to ache. Had Fergus just admitted he’d been present during the commission of a crime? “Mercy!” she gasped.

Fergus realized that her ladyship made a play for time. He could not blame her for hesitating to admit to the perfidious nature of her spouse. “You must see,” he murmured, “that I wish to protect Lady Amabel.”

“Mab?” Upon this sudden digression, Lady March looked blank. What had Amabel to do with the wretched robberies? “Oh! You do not want her to become involved. But I fear she already is! She was determined to be so. And I could not dissuade her, although I confess I did not try very
hard!”

“You did not?” Lord Parrington in turn sat down abruptly in a Tudor box chair. “Upon my word!”

Why was the baron glowering? Nell wished she might give him a sharp pinch. “I don’t know why you should find it so difficult to believe! You have a queer notion of the young woman you wished to marry, I think.”

Lord Parrington had an even queerer notion of his hostess. “Do you mean to tell me,” he hesitantly inquired, “that you don’t mind?”

“Mind? Of course I don’t mind! Mab has been a great help. I cannot imagine how we would have gone on without her, in fact!” Eleanor made an impatient gesture. “But that is fair and far off! I’m a great deal more interested in what you were saying earlier, sir! About my jewels.”

What
had
Fergus said about them? He wracked his brain. “They are very fine, but considering the circumstances which led to your possession of them, you would rather not have had them, I am sure.”

So he
did
know! But how? And was Lord Parrington on the side of the angels or the devils—Bow Street, in this case? Such distinctions were beyond Nell in this moment. She knew only that Marriot must be told of this without delay.

Furthermore, Henrietta was bearing rapidly down upon them, her wispy hair contained beneath a crepe turban made up in the form of a beehive and finished with a bow, a militant glitter in her eye. “Here is Henrietta! You wish to make her your apologies, Parrington, as I recall!” gasped Nell, and fled.

Apologies for what? Ah yes, his sharp speech. Realizing that Henrietta was bound to tell his mama of his presence at the
soirée
, Fergus was tempted to speak sharper still.

Unaware that she was perilously close to being given a trimming, Henrietta gazed thoughtfully after the rapidly retreating Eleanor. Nights passed creeping through the drafty corridors of Marcham Towers had in no wise blunted Henrietta’s intellect. That Eleanor possessed an abundance of jewels did not surprise Henrietta. But very suspicious she thought it that Nell had suddenly taken to making an exhibition of herself. “I do not see your mama, Parrington!” she archly remarked. “Can it be you are here without her? That is hardly the act of a considerate son.”

On the verge of administering said tongue-lashing, Fergus recalled that, if he antagonized her, Henrietta might well spread stories about Mab. “My mother is indisposed,” he therefore replied stiffly. “I will convey your regards.”

“You gave her the slip, you mean!” There were few human frailties that Henrietta did not understand. Only in the case of her hosts was she baffled; considering the troubles that beset them, Lord and Lady March remained remarkably calm. Eleanor had not yet fallen victim to a single attack of hysterics despite the presence of her husband’s paramour beneath her roof.

If paramour Jane Verney was—but if not Marriot’s fancy piece, what was she, and why was she here?

Thought of fancy pieces recalled Henrietta to her companion and his apparent attraction to Nell. “Because of your dear mama, I feel it is my duty to drop you a hint, young man! I hope you will not mind if I speak to you like an aunt.”