Rebel Heiress (23 page)

Later, however, when Henrietta was changing, Miss Jenkinson came to her room. ‘I am to beg a favour of you,' she said. ‘Will you be so good as to let your Rose instruct my poor Phyllis in the secrets of your coiffure? To tell truth, my poor girl is little better than a millhand on her promotion and, as you see, can no more dress my hair than she can tell a lie, poor innocent. Let her practise on you tonight, Rose, I beg, and perhaps tomorrow I may appear half-way decent. In the meantime I will take your place here and hand pins to your mistress, who, I am sure, is very capable of performing her own toilette.'

Since this was perfectly true, Henrietta had no option but to dismiss Rose, who was delighted to show off her own newfound skill with the curling tongs.

‘There,' said Miss Jenkinson with satisfaction, ‘now they will be busy primping each other this hour or more, and you and I, my dear creature, may have a comfortable coze. And first, tell me — have I not mastered the lingo to a miracle? If my mother could hear me calling you “my dear creature”, she would say a thing or two, I can tell you, and more worth the hearing than your “fiddlesticks” and “gracious me's”. She was a millhand herself to start off with, and never quite forgot it. Lord, how she'd have frightened my poor Beaufrage! But, come, my dear, sit down, stop looking so scared and admit I saved your bacon for you with a vengeance this morning. I am to scold you, I think. I am supposed to be the hoyden who knows nothing of society's ways, not you. To ride off alone with a young man might pass for country manners in me, but it will not do for
you,
my love. Most particularly not when he is
my
young man. That story of his being your brother was well enough for the time, but do not think I am to be caught with my own chaff. Come, confess. Have you changed your mind and decided to have Lord Beaufrage after all? If you have, it is but to say so, and I and my millions will find ourselves another market. I know he was yours in the first place, and will never have it said I poached on another girl's preserves, but, to tell truth, I had it from himself he had received his dismissal and in no uncertain
terms either. And, besides, if I am to quiz you, what of poor Mr. Rivers, languishing there in Spain?'

Pausing at last, she fixed Henrietta with a pair of shrewd brown eyes. ‘Lord,' she went on after an uncomfortable pause, ‘you make me feel like my own grandmother. Come, speak up; it cannot be so bad as all that. If you want him, say so and have him. I won't pretend I had not toyed with the idea of having him myself; he's well enough, and will know how to ease me into society, where, now I am begun, I mean to succeed. But do not think that if I lose him I will pine and die like a romantic heroine. We Jenkinsons were not bred that way. So stop your blushing and tell me who it is to be. I confess, from what I have heard of him, I had thought Mr. Rivers a very much more likely
parti
for you, but who am I to say? If you wish to let him die of disappointment in Spain, that is your affair.'

At this point, Henrietta, not surprisingly, burst into tears. ‘Oh,' she sobbed, grasping the cool, firm hand her friend held out to her, ‘if I could tell you all. But I cannot. Dear Miss Jenkinson, believe me when I tell you that I cannot. And believe me, too, when I say that Lord Beufrage will never be more to me than a brother. If you can really bring yourself to marry him, it will be the best day's work you ever did for me in your life. As a brother, I could love him; as anything else — oh, no, impossible.'

‘Good.' Miss Jenkinson drew a large clean pocket handkerchief out of her reticule and handed it to Henrietta. ‘So we are come down to cases at last. Mr. Rivers is to be the man after all. Well, I can only say, my dear, that you go a mighty strange way about it. Having caught such a prize, for by all reports, he is a perfect Lancelot, why do you go so roundly about to throw him away? I tell you, even without this morning's work, there is enough gossip about you in town to make the most gallant cavalier blench. I had it from Mr. Willis himself that if Mr. Brummel had not spoken up for you, he would have been in two minds about admitting you to Almack's tother night, and you know what
that
would have meant. It is lucky for you that you have so good a friend in Mr. Brummel, for, trust me, you have some bitter enemies, and some of them rather nearer home than you might think. And to give them such a handle as you did this morning — why, my dear creature, it is mere madness.'

‘I know it.' Henrietta handed back the handkerchief. ‘But if you knew all, you would see that there was nothing else I could
have done today. I can only tell you I am glad I went and thank you from my heart for your help. And as for Lord Beaufrage, take him with my blessing if you really feel you can face his burden of debt.'

Miss Jenkinson laughed. ‘I have told you already, my dear, that it is not the debt itself I mind so much as the tendency to it — and I have thought of a way to wean him from that. You saw my wager with him this morning? He was just as happy racing with me for a pair of gloves as he would have been if five hundred pounds were at stake. He is merely a schoolboy, that is all, and must be treated as such. Besides, when he is busy running my mills and minding my money he will have no time for such frolics. I blame his mother for much that is amiss with him. With such an example, how could he be other than he is? But I am quite an example too, and once he has swallowed my vulgarity, which seems to go down easily enough sweetened with my money, I think we shall deal admirably together. Besides, do you know, I begin to think I am a little bit in love with him. I tell you frankly when I saw the two of you dodging away behind the trees in the park this morning, I was neither to hold nor to bind for a minute. It's lucky for you my father brought me up so strict. “Never let that temper of yours run away with you, Sal,” he used to say, “for if you do, you'll be sorry for it, and being sorry never helped anything.” And he was in the right of it, too. But it was touch and go there for a minute this morning. So be warned by me, and if you really do not want him, keep your hands off my Cedric in future, for mine he is to be. And now, come, we shall be keeping Lady Liverpool waiting and you know she hates that almost as much as she hates a Whig.' And so, arms lovingly entwined around each other's waists, the two girls went down to the big drawing room where, indeed, Lady Liverpool was beginning to fidget with her embroidery frame and glance at the big clock on the mantelshelf.

Next morning, Rose came to Henrietta with an oddly anxious expression. ‘If you please, miss. There's a young person belowstairs who says she must speak to you.'

‘A young person? Who can you mean, Rose?'

‘Why, it's hard to say, miss, for young lady is what she ain't, and why she should be wanting speech of a real young lady like yourself is more than I can imagine. But sitting there in the
servants' hall, she is, and vowing she won't budge till she's seen you. And the butler in the fidgets, and the footmen not best pleased, and passing nosey, miss, if you'll forgive my saying so. I don't half like it, and that's the truth of the matter. And when I asks her what she's come about, she sticks her nose into the air (and very dirty it is, too) and says, “Tell her it's Miss Muggeridge to see her and if that don't fetch her then throw me out as hard as you please.” And there she sits, miss, bold as brass. And what they're saying about us in the servants' hall, I don't like to think.'

‘Miss Muggeridge? Rose, I must see her. Come, dress me quickly and bring her up. Tell them belowstairs that she is come about a private charity of mine and let them mind their own business for a change.' And so saying, Henrietta ran a comb through her short curls, settled the skirts of her cream-coloured muslin, cast a quick, appraising glance at the reflection in her looking glass and finally almost pushed the protesting Rose from the room, promising that she herself would set all to rights before she returned.

As she quickly straightened her bed and hung her dressing gown in the closet, she wondered what this visit could mean and how Miss Muggeridge had learned who she was. Could it be a blackmailing request for more money or was there something wrong with poor little Caroline? At any rate, she could not possibly take the risk of refusing to see Miss Muggeridge, whatever servants' gossip might result.

Rose returned quickly and ushered Miss Muggeridge into the room with an expression of sour disapproval. Dismissing her maid, Henrietta turned to her visitor. The girl was clearly ill at ease and, despite Rose's remarks, had tried hard to make herself presentable for the visit. Her coloured gown was very nearly clean, her checked apron little less so and a cap with cherry coloured ribbons hid the worst tangles of her hair. She stood awkwardly just inside the door, looking about the room with quick darting glances.

‘Lord, miss,' she began at last, ‘ain't you fine here, and begging pardon for the intrusion I'm sure, but I thought you'd be wishful to know, seeing as how you took such a fancy to the poor child. And her to you, too. Lord, you should have heard her carry on after you left. Sobs and tears and hystrikes and I don't know what all, and if you ask me that's really why Ma made up her mind, 'cos I can tell you, miss, if one of the little
varmints takes to acting up, it starts the others off something cruel. But anyway, what with one thing and another, and six guineas, excusing me, miss, for saying so, not doing much more than cover what we've been out of pocket already and so Ma'd have told you and the gentleman, if you'd only a' given her time … But of course he had to fly into one of his panics, thinking you'd betrayed his name. Lord bless you, miss, do you think we'd a' kept the child so long if we hadn't a' known who she belonged to? But enough's enough, my Ma says, and she knows well who'll be pleased with the news when it comes, she says, the child being nothing but a trouble and a shame, not to mention an expense, which is where it pinches most, if you ask me. But I says to myself there's one person as'll cry for the child, or I ain't got eyes in my head, which I have, and better than my Ma's a long chalk, she being sand-blind these many years past. Yes, and one who might gladly pay for the news I've got for her, being a freehanded young lady as I'se seen for myself. So I just puts on my best gown, locks the children in the hay barn, and here I am, miss, hoping you'll be grateful to me.'

‘Why, I am sure it is very good of you to have taken the trouble to come and see me.' Henrietta had listened to the girl's speech with increasing bewilderment. ‘But I am afraid I still do not rightly understand why you are here.'

‘Why, because of the accident, miss, to be sure.' The girl seemed puzzled that Henrietta had not yet taken her meaning.

‘The accident?' Henrietta was more and more confused. ‘Oh, you mean to tell me that some accident has befallen poor little Caroline?' Quick suspicion flashed through her mind. It seemed this was a blackmailing expedition after all. The girl had come to plead additional expenses on Caroline's behalf and ask for more money to cover them.

But the girl's next words undeceived her. ‘No, no, miss, there's been nothing happened to the child — yet. It's the accident that
will
happen I'm talking about. Course it's more difficult when they're grown like her. Babies — well — anything can happen to
them
. There's overlaying, of course, and strangling their poor little selves in their own ribbons (lucky to have them, says Ma) and just plain pining away, which is easy enough if you don't feed the little dears, and a great saving, too. But with a big girl like Caroline, Ma says, it takes a bit of thinking for. There's the well of course, but she's a timid little
soul and keeps away from it, nor she won't try to climb trees either, but, “Leave me alone to think of a good new way,” Ma says to me this morning, and that's when I puts on my Sunday best and comes to see you, miss, suspicioning you wouldn't rightly like it. And besides, it's a funny thing, but I've grown fond of that child meself, and that's why I come to see you, and if I was mistaken, well then I'm sorry I've wasted my journey and will go back home again and let what will happen. Only don't you come blaming me afterwards!'

She stopped at last, and Henrietta, who had been too horrified to interrupt her sooner, forced herself to ask the direct, appalling question. ‘You mean the child is to be murdered? Little Caroline: In cold blood?'

‘Oh, well, miss.' The girl sounded affronted. ‘I wouldn't want you to go saying nothing like that about my Ma. I never said nothing about murder, did I now? Or blood, neither. I just said I was afraid the poor little lamb might meet with an accident, as others have before her, who were nothing but a plague and an inconvenience to them as shoulda loved them, and nobody more regretful than me, no, nor my Ma neither. Sobbing and crying, I've seen her many a time when she's grown fond of the poor little varmints, as I must confess she ain't of Caroline. And that's why if you
are
mindful to do something about it, I wouldn't recommend your leaving it too long. Better safe than sorry's a good motto and I can tell you I'll be just as glad to see that child safe away from my Ma's, and the sooner the better.'

Henrietta was pacing up and down the room. ‘My God, what shall I do? I cannot possibly come today to take the child away. We are to go home to London, and besides, what am I to do with her when I have got her?'

‘Well, I suppose that's rightly your worry, miss,' the girl said, ‘but one thing I'll promise you, if you like — and if you felt like making it worth my while, naturally. Something for nothing is what we Muggeridges never did fancy nor never will, and so Ma will tell you any day.' She paused, watching Henrietta expectantly.

Henrietta actually found herself wishing she had Cedric to support her. How much did the girl want? And, more important still, could her frightful story really be true? Impossible to take a chance on it. She opened her reticule and took out a guinea. ‘There,' she said, ‘that is to show you I am indeed
grateful for the information you have brought me, and there is as much for you again if you will undertake to keep the child safe until tomorrow.'