Regency Masquerade (14 page)

“Well
that’s the last from that trunk,” Mrs Pearson announced some time later. “No
papers there.  How many more trunks are there Tom?”

“Two
more ma’am,” replied the footman cautiously.

“Well,
let’s have them down then!” said Mrs Pearson cheerfully.  She loved looking
through clothes and materials.  She was already planning to turn a beautiful
piece of green satin into a pair of cushion covers that would match perfectly
with the damask walls in the drawing room.

Tom
looked hopefully at his employer, expecting a counter order, but she merely
nodded and he departed for the attic with a sigh.  Hopefully the next one would
not be so heavy! 

The
second trunk proved to contain the household linen and it took scarcely any
time to sort through.  Most pieces were still in excellent condition and were
removed to be taken upstairs by one of the maids and handed over to the
housekeeper. By this time, Lady Murray was getting a little weary and told her
companion to carry on without her while she went upstairs for a rest.  Mrs Pearson
was in full swing and merely gave a token protest, “If you are sure my lady, I
will let you know if I find anything, of course.”

The
third and last trunk contained coats and pantaloons that had obviously belonged
to Sir Thomas.  Mrs Pearson did not feel qualified to sort these and merely
lifted each piece out and shook it to determine that nothing had been hidden
between the folds.  Eventually this task was completed and the articles of
clothing returned to the trunk.

She
turned to the footman despondently, “Was that it then Tom?  Are you sure?”  She
had been so certain she had been going to find some papers or even a letter
from Amanda hidden away.

“There
is nothing else ma’am,” he assured her. “Well, apart from a few pieces of
furniture of course.”

“Furniture? 
What kind of furniture?”

“Just
a desk ma’am, and a little dressing table-like thing,” he answered doubtfully. 
“Perhaps you would like to come up and have a look for yourself?”

Mrs
Pearson nodded then sighed as she got to her feet. “Perhaps later, Tom.  I am
feeling a little tired myself. Please ask Annie to come in and I’ll tell her
where all these things need to go.  The trunks can go back in the attic now, thank
you.” 

The
parlour was soon stored to its normal state and Mrs Pearson went upstairs
herself for a brief rest before dinner.  The furniture would still be there
tomorrow.

Frances
meanwhile was oblivious of the concern she was causing in other quarters.  She
had taken John’s advice, and hired a solicitor to investigate the time and
place of her parents’ marriage twenty five years ago.  While she was waiting
for the results, she took the opportunity to refurbish her female wardrobe and
to purchase such things as face powder, a new wig and other accessories.  Her
hair was starting to lengthen, as she had not cut it for several weeks, but it
would be some time before it was at an acceptably feminine length.  She started
to venture forth on small outings to the park and the circulating library but
was careful to act as decorously as possible in case Lady Murray was having her
watched.

For
a while she had debated whether or not to start calling herself Frances
Metcalf, but in the end decided against it.  She did not want to antagonise
Lady Murray further at this stage, although if she could not find any proof to
support her claim she might have to change her strategy.

Unfortunately
her quiet period of reflection also allowed her plenty of time to think about
Lord Carleton.  She missed him and wondered what he was doing and whether he thought
of her at all.  More than once she was tempted to dress as Peter again and seek
him out but she knew this would be fatal to her plans.  She made a bargain with
herself that she would not try and see him again until she was accepted by Lady
Murray, she was not sure what she would do if the plan failed.   Did she love
him enough, or too much, to become his mistress?  Providing he still wanted her
of course.

Mrs
Pearson dressed in her oldest clothes to brave the attic, she suspected,
rightly as it turned out, that it had not been dusted in some time.   Tom
accompanied her and showed which few pieces of furniture stored there had
belonged to Lady Julia. There was a beautiful, polished writing table with
patterns of mother of pearl inlaid on the drawers, a delicate white painted
dressing table with gilt trim and, under a dust cloth, was a chaise longue made
of rosewood with cream satin cushions. 

“If
there are any papers here they will be in the desk or the dressing table,”
mused Mrs Pearson, opening the two larger drawers in the dressing table as she
spoke.  They were empty however, the brushes and cosmetics obviously removed
before the piece was brought to Lady Murray’s house.  The small drawers mounted
on each side of the dressing table were also empty.  She turned to the writing
desk and found that several of the drawers were locked.  This looked promising
and she hunted eagerly until she found the small key.  Triumphantly she drew
forth the small bundle of letters tied with pink ribbon, only to find after a
brief glance that they were love letters from Sir Thomas.  Hastily she returned
them, a slight blush on her cheeks, who would have thought Sir Thomas was romantic? 
Eventually she found a small puzzle box at the back of one of the drawers.  How
did it open?  She tried pushing several sections of wood without success and
put it aside to take down to Lady Anna.  There were no other papers in the
desk.  She picked up the puzzle box and made her way carefully down stairs,
followed by Tom, thankful that he hadn’t been asked to carry down any of the
furniture.

Her
employer was seated in the morning salon, waiting for her return. “Well?”

“Lady
Anna? Do you remember how to open the puzzle box?  I found it in Lady Julia’s
writing desk and I think it is the same one she had as a child.”  Mrs Pearson
put it carefully into Lady Anna’s outstretched hands.  “Let me see,” she
murmured, her fingers sliding over the wood.  It was shaped like a small row of
books in a bookshelf.  “I think I have it.” The bottom shelf slid to the left,
allowing the books, which were in one piece to rotate clockwise, in turn
exposing a small keyhole.  “Do we have the key?” she asked.

“I
do not think so,” answered Mrs Pearson regretfully.  “It certainly was not in
the desk.  What shall we do?”

“Tom? 
Do you think you can open it with a knife?” asked Lady Murray.

“I
can try, my lady,” said Tom doubtfully.  “I’ll be back in a minute.”  He
returned shortly carrying a small kitchen knife, “Will you hand it to me, my
lady?”  He fiddled with the point of the blade for a few minutes, “I think I’ll
have to break the lock, my lady?”

She
nodded and in a few seconds the box was open.  Tom gave it to Mrs Pearson and
she carefully withdrew the tightly folded papers from inside.  “It looks like
two letters, Lady Anna.  Shall I read them?” With her employer directly in
front of her she felt obliged to ask permission, even as her fingers were
already unfolding the thin paper.

“Go
ahead.”

Mrs
Pearson gave a gasp as her eyes flew ahead to the signature at the bottom.  “It
is from Miss Amanda, my lady!”

Lady
Murray pursed her lips tightly, “You may leave us Tom.”  She would have given
anything to have been able to dismiss her companion as well and read the
letters alone but she needed her eyes.  Although she could distinguish between
light and dark, she certainly could not see enough to read.

“My
dearest Julia,

I
hope this finds you well.  My beautiful baby has arrived safely.  She takes
after Henry, she has his hair but my eyes.  We have christened her Frances
Julia Metcalf, although we are not using that name here in France of course!  My
health is not yet what it should be, but the doctor says I should regain my
strength if I do not do too much.  Easy for him to say! I have written to
Mother but I do not know if she will even open my letter, you know how bitterly
we parted and she has not forgiven me.  I hope the birth of her granddaughter
may change her heart. My dearest sister I miss you so much and although I am
homesick for England, my baby gives me great joy.  Henry send his warmest
regards,

Your
loving sister Amanda”

Mrs
Pearson stopped reading to wipe a tear from her eye and looked at Lady Murray’s
closed face.

‘We
must keep this to ourselves for a while,” she ordered.  “I need to consider
what this means.”

“But
surely,” faltered Mrs Pearson, “It means you have a granddaughter... doesn’t
it?”

“It
would certainly appear so, but whether she is legitimate or not is still
uncertain.  What is in the other letter?” she asked.

Her
companion looked down as she unfolded the second sheet of paper. 

 
“My
dear Julia

I
write this to you at the request of our beloved Amanda.  I have sad news. Her
health has not improved as we had hoped and the doctor says she has not long
now.  She sends you her love and hopes for a happy and fulfilling life for
you.  We received your letter at Christmas and it was the source of much
pleasure to her.  We have not heard a word from your mother.  Amanda tells me
she has forgiven her but I cannot – however I will say no more.  I hope one day
we will be able to return to England and you will be able to meet your niece
who is growing more beautiful and more delightful every day, I hope this finds
you in good health,

Your
loving brother and sister,

Henry
and Amanda”

Tears
were running down Mrs Pearson’s cheeks as she finished, and it took a while for
Lady Murray’s next words to penetrate. 

“Burn
it!”

“Pardon
me?” surely she had misheard.

“You
heard me, throw it on the fire!”  Lady Murray made as if to snatch the paper
from the old nurses hands.  Not really aware of why she did it, Mrs Pearson
tucked the letter quickly into her reticule, then she leant forward and audibly
stoked up the fire.  “There, it is done,” she lied.

Hastily
she checked that she had the other letter safe.  Yes, there it was.  She tucked
that inside her reticule as well.  “I think I will go upstairs and have a rest,
my lady.  Shall I call Annie to you?”

“Yes,
thank you, Maria.  Remember what I said, not a word to anyone yet,” Lady Murray
emphasised.

“Of
course not, my lady.”

For
the first time, Mrs Pearson wondered if Lady Murray had in fact received the
letters sent by her daughter but had chosen to ignore them.  She knew she was high
in the instep but to put respectability and propriety before family was
something Mrs Pearson could not understand.

Meanwhile
Lady Murray was weighing her options.  She decided it was time to call in her
solicitor, he had as vested an interest as she did in making sure Frances was
not accepted as a legitimate heir and paid out her ten thousand pounds.  She
summoned Hanson, her butler, to send a message to Mr Pilkington asking him to
call at his earliest convenience.  There was no legal proof of anything so far,
she would simply stand firm and deny the relationship, but it would be better
if Mrs Pearson was not involved in this, she was too sentimental.  Would it be
possible to see that she was sent on a short holiday?

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

Mrs
Madden did not know what to do.  She was sincerely shocked and distressed by
the goings on of the last week at Chatswood.  She had known there was something
shady about Francis from the beginning, at first she thought he was there merely
to hang on Richard’s coattails but then she grew increasingly uncomfortable at
the insidious way he was worming his way into Richard’s confidence.

When
she overheard the squire’s exclamation in the study she had been absolutely
horrified to learn that Frances was a woman.  How dared Richard bring his light
o’ love to his home, to parade around in breeches in front of everyone?  She
was obviously completely shameless. She must have bewitched him, Lord Carleton
had always behaved with dignity and propriety until now but he was clearly
infatuated with the strumpet.  What could she do to save him from himself?

She
attempted to approach Theo with her concerns but he refused to discuss Richard
with her, “Leave it be Maddy.  Richard is a grown man, he’ll not appreciate you
meddling in his affairs.”

But
if she didn’t, who else would?  That was when the name of Lady Anna Murray
popped into her head.  Frances was apparently some sort of relation, if Lady
Murray, a high stickler by all accounts, knew about her behaviour she would be
certain to take drastic measures to control her.  Mrs Madden vacillated for a
while but finally decided it was her duty to protect Richard.  She went
upstairs to her room and sat down at her little writing desk.

“My
dear Lady Murray,

I
am writing to you tell you about the wanton behaviour of the person who goes by
the name of Frances.  I understand she is a connection of yours.  She dresses
in male attire and recently spent a week at the house of Lord Richard Carleton,
as his close companion! I do not need to tell you the scandal this would cause
if it became known.  I hope you can do something about this,