Patricia Wynn (7 page)

Susan’s eyes opened with incredulity and Tom put a quick hand to his mouth to stifle a cough.
“Non,
I should never s’ink it,” said Susan hastily. “Now where may we set you down?”

Lady Mewhinny sat a bit straighter in her seat and placed her hands on her lap with a curiously authoritative gesture. “That will be quite simple. My estates are in Sussex, near Heathfield. Do not be concerned if your man doesn’t know the way,” she added at Susan’s look of surprise. “Vigor shall ride up on the box beside him and direct him. Then I hope you will be so good as to accept my hospitality while your man comes back for my carriage.”

Susan opened her mouth in shock. Had she really heard that correctly? Was Lady Mewhinny proposing such an imposition on a peer of the realm? She started to protest, “But Lord...” and was fortunately cut off by another cough from Tom. “...Tom,” she finished lamely, directing a helpless look in his direction.

“Lord Tom?” repeated Lady Mewhinny, turning her head back and forth between them in confusion.

Tom stepped quickly into the breach. “Yes, milady. Lord Tom. That’s what the master had a way of calling me. He said I got above my station from time to time.”

Lady Mewhinny inclined her head with good humour. “All the better,” she said, suddenly cheerful. “You will need a touch of authority to get any assistance from the louts in this part of the Weald. They are not so energetic as we are in Sussex. Now let us be off, shall we? It is over thirty miles.”

Susan and Tom looked at each other speechlessly. Thirty miles and the day was almost gone! Then Susan realized that her face must have betrayed her anguish for Tom gave her a smile of reassurance before bowing to both ladies.

“Certainly, milady. Madam,” he finished, pulling his forelock for Susan’s benefit.

Within a few minutes, he had helped his ancient guide onto the box and they were on their way.

Susan sank back against the cushioned sides of the carriage Lord Harleston had provided. Heedless of Lady Mewhinny’s presence, she pulled her veil down over her eyes and closed them tightly. What had she done now? She should never have allowed Lord Harleston to talk her into this mad escapade. Look at the muddle they were in now, and all because she was too impulsive to think before she acted. He would never forgive her after this day’s work. Or at least, she thought, remembering his reassuring smile, he certainly ought not to.

The carriage rolled faster and faster over the bumpy roads. There was no direct route to Heathfield, it seemed, for they had to take every market road that twisted between Ashford and Lady Mewhinny’s estate.

It soon grew dark, and Tom had to stop at an inn to obtain extra lanterns to light the way. Susan and Lady Mewhinny used the stop to freshen themselves and have a light repast before climbing back into the carriage. Lady Mewhinny insisted upon paying for their fare, but Susan found it hard to eat, wondering if Tom was getting something to sustain him through the night. She gave orders to the effect that the servants should be fed, but had no idea how well they would be carried out. Peg, who had offered no assistance throughout the day, was sent to see to it that the others got to eat. From the gleam in Peg’s eye, Susan felt secure that she would at least locate Tom. The thought was not particularly comforting.

Once back inside the carriage, Susan vowed to herself that she would not go to sleep while Lord Harleston could not do the same. Lady Mewhinny dozed comfortably in a corner, seemingly indifferent to the bouncing of the chaise. Peg, although still rather sulky about riding backward, seemed less petulant than before. Susan glanced at her from time to time, wondering what attention, if any, the girl had received from Tom. It would not seem natural to Peg for him to ignore her, she well knew, but she wondered to what lengths Lord Harleston would feel obliged to go for verisimilitude.

It had been a long day. Susan had risen at five o’clock to make ready for their voyage, and no amount of resolve could counter that fact. To her later mortification, she dropped off to sleep and made little attempt to keep awake when little jerks of the carriage brought her abruptly to herself.

When she finally awoke, it was near dawn the next day and Tom had slowed the horses’ pace to turn into a long alley. Lady Mewhinny was regarding her complacently. She seemed fully restored from her accident, despite a journey which would have caused many women to take to their beds.

“Ah, I see you are awake,” she said, smiling. “And just when we’re arriving. This is the lane to Kittycall Manor. Your man seems to have found it without one wrong turn.”

“Kittycall?” Susan repeatedly dazedly, forgetting her accent.

“Yes,” Lady Mewhinny said with a chuckle. “Sir William’s people had quite a sense of humour. It is on account of the name, of course. Mew, you know.”

“Oh, quite,” Susan said. She fumbled in her reticule for a comb and straightened her hair as well as she could without a mirror. She was dreading the sight of Tom and wanted to look her best when she faced him. It was certain to be the last time.

Peg was still snoring as they drew up before the manor and Susan had to rouse her before they could assist Lady Mewhinny to her feet. The house was an impressive Palladian structure with three great sections joined in the shape of a U, but Susan paid it scant attention. Her eyes sought Tom in the crowd of aged servants who seemed suddenly to envelop them.

Tom had descended from the carriage and was leaning tiredly against one of the wheels, but he straightened as she alighted. Their eyes met above the heads of the servants and Susan winced at the redness in his. He stepped forward to meet her just as Lady Mewhinny took her arm.

“Might I have a word with you, Mrs. Faringdon?” he said hurriedly.

“Of course, T-Tom,” said Susan, glancing at Lady Mewhinny helplessly. “What is it?”

Lord Harleston looked at the elderly lady and back at Susan, giving an almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders. It couldn’t be helped.

“I just wanted to reassure you, madam, that I’ll be back with the carriage as soon as possible. You needn’t worry.” The look in his eyes spoke volumes.

Lord Harleston’s concern for her nearly wrung Susan’s heart. “Oh, you must not be worried about me, Tom,” she said earnestly. “I am certain I shall be fine. But you must get some rest,” she added, “and somes’ing to eat before setting out. Must said ’e not, Lady Mewhinny?” she pleaded as she saw the slight shake to his head.

“Yes, Tom. There’s a good fellow,” said Lady Mewhinny. “Be off with you now and Vigor will tell you how to go on. Bates,” she said, calling to her elderly butler who, nevertheless, seemed a child in comparison to his mistress, “see to it that Mrs. Faringdon’s groom is given something to eat before he sets out.”

“Yes, milady,” Bates intoned with wounded dignity. He clearly did not stand in need of instruction.

“And, now, let us go in, my dear,” said Lady Mewhinny, briskly sweeping Susan forward. “You will need some refreshment after your journey.”

Susan managed a wistful look back over her shoulder at Tom before she was handed to the housekeeper and guided to her room.

Chapter Five

The walk down the bedroom corridor took longer than it ought because Lady Mewhinny’s housekeeper suffered from rheumatism and could only walk at a snail’s pace. It hurt Susan to watch her and she vowed not to require the poor woman to make the journey again on her account. It seemed to her there was not a person under sixty-five on the staff, although apparently Lady Mewhinny and Vigor had already outlived one entire generation of servants.

Her room, however, came as something of a shock. It was furnished in the height of the rococo style, with the sumptuous curves of that particular style evident in all the furniture. The ceilings were painted in soft pastels edged in gilt. Elaborately framed paintings of pastoral seductions and pink-breasted nudes covered the walls, and as Susan approached them rather fearfully, she detected the signatures of both Watteau and Fragonard. Clearly, despite the outdated fashion of the chamber, Sir William had possessed a considerable fortune.

“Cooo!” came a voice from behind her. Peg had been sent to find her mistress. “Now this is something like.” The miserable girl walked slowly into the room, staring openmouthed at each of the voluptuous canvases. She tittered at the figure of a reclining gentleman who seemed to be reaching out to touch his lady’s breast.

Embarrassment warmed Susan’s face. “Zat will do, Peg!” she said sharply, “You may help me unpack later. For ze moment, I wish to retire. I will ring for you when I need you.”

“Oll right, miss,” Peg said, not unwilling to depart. “But ’oo I’m a goin’ to talk to, I don’t know. Them’s all older ’an me grandfer downstairs.”

“You may go, Peg,” Susan said wearily.

The girl went at that, but not before she had stopped in front of another of the canvases and giggled again. Her hips seemed to sway more pronouncedly as she left the room, as though something in the paintings had acted as an inspiration to them.

Susan lay down gratefully upon the fattened comforters. The bed was so luxurious, despite the age of its coverings, that she had little fear of not being able to rest. The previous day had been exhausting in more than one way. But as she lay there, trying not to think of Peg, or worry about Tom, she could not manage to sleep. Finally, she realized that a strange noise, coming from so far away she had not been fully aware of it, was disturbing her tranquility.

She sat up in bed and listened carefully. Briefly the sound was gone, but soon again she heard a faint shrieking. It was rather eerie. She thought for a moment it might be the wind, but there was no wind to speak of that day. She lay down again and was trying to dismiss it from her mind, when there came a tap upon her door.

Susan jumped and then rose quickly to answer it. Peg, she knew, would not have the decency to knock. To her surprise, it proved to be Lady Mewhinny, whom she had supposed to be laid out on her bed for the rest of the day.

But her ladyship, at Susan’s invitation, stepped into the room with a liveliness Susan could only envy.

“I’ve just come to see how you were getting on, my dear. I hope you are comfortably settled.”

Susan thanked her, assuring her of her perfect delight with the room, but protesting the effort it must have caused her hostess to look in on her.

“Nonsense, my dear!” was her ladyship’s answer. “I am happy to see you installed. This was my room, you see. Sir William had it fitted out for me when we were newly married. I’ve always loved it, but I chose another room shortly after he died. Somehow it seemed the right thing to do,” she added vaguely.

She turned to the dressing table and said, “Did you see the shell mirror and brush he gave me? You must use them if you like. And anything else you have need of while you are here. Bates said you did not have much baggage with you.”

Susan flushed and tried to hide her confusion.
“Non...
you see, we were not planning a protracted journey.”

“Yes, I see. Well, please use anything you like. There are some clothes in the chest which ought to fit you reasonably well if you run short. They have been kept in good repair, so you need not fear you would look shabby.”

“S’ank you, my lady,” said Susan hastily. “I shall manage quite well.” She had visions of herself dressed as Madame Pompadour with a wig, pannier and patches. “Zere is one s’ing I did wish to ask you, zough. Do you ’ear a strange noise?”

Lady Mewhinny opened her eyes widely and cocked her head to one side like a little bird. “No. I cannot say that I do. And my hearing is quite acute.” She looked at Susan expectantly.

“Zen it must be my imagination.” Susan frowned, shaking her head to dismiss it. “Please do not give it anoz’er s’ought, Lady Mewhinny.”

The elderly lady took her hand and patted it kindly. “You must call me Kitty, dear. My name is; Catherine, you know. And I shall call you Susan. We are both widows and, I think, are very like in some ways.

“I remember my own grief after Sir William died,” she continued. “But I did not give into it and I fancy Sir William would have wanted it that way. You must not bury yourself, you know. Life goes on.”

Tears of gratitude and mortification came to Susan’s eyes. “Oh, Lady Mewhinny
—Kitty. You’re so very kind.”

“Nonsense, my dear. It is such a pleasure for me to have a new friend
—and of the human variety, too. I
had best let you have your rest,” she finished cheerily. And with another pat of the hand, she was gone.

Susan was so touched by Kitty’s kindness and at the same time guilt-ridden to be deceiving her that the strangeness of her ladyship’s last remarks did not strike her immediately. When it did, she merely thought that Lady Mewhinny had a rather sharp sense of humour to be referring to her collection of aged servants as if they were a menagerie. What other explanation could there be?

She lay down again upon the bed and managed finally, despite the faint shrieking in her ears, to sleep. Unfortunately, her concerns about Lord Harleston were so much on her mind that her dreams were fitful. She dreamed that she waited and waited anxiously for Tom to return, but when she finally searched for him and found him, he was buried to his waist in mud. She wanted desperately to grasp him and pull him out, but could not bring herself to put her arms around him for fear he might think her forward. It was a most disquieting dream.

When Susan awoke, she found it was near noon. Lady Mewhinny must have left word she was not to be disturbed, for no one had come to bring her breakfast. She leapt from the bed and ran to the window to look for Tom. Her dreams of him were still vivid, and she had some notion of checking to see whether he was stuck in the garden, but all that greeted her eyes were the neat rows of Lady Mewhinny’s vegetables and roses.

Having still some hope of speaking to Lord Harleston before he could leave, she dressed quickly and went in search of the public rooms. The house was straightforward in design and had no twisting corridors to confuse her, so she came rapidly to the central section. Bates, Lady Mewhinny’s butler, was just coming out of one of the rooms with a tray when she rounded the corner.