The Disdainful Marquis (9 page)

The magnificent female in the green walking dress relaxed the tight set of her shoulders. Up to this point she had not known if the old dragon was actually going to take her on again. She'd had to do some fast and glib talking, and then when the young smashing-looking girl had appeared in the doorway, she had thought that all was lost. But resiliency was her best asset, so she masked her surprise and said laconically, “Oh, I'll see to it that she doesn't embarrass you. I know what I'm about.”

“All because you're anxious to see Paris, eh?” the duchess prodded. “I'm pleased that you have acquired this sudden bent for travel. But of course, since Wolverton came down so handsomely with you, you wouldn't require any help from me with your wardrobe this time.”

Violet saw the old woman's eyes mocking her, so she gave in at last, feeling that a half a loaf was better than none.

“No, he didn't. He made up some wild story about me sneaking about with an actor on the sly, and used that as an excuse to simply pull out, without leaving me a farthing. As if,” she added, her bosom swelling, “I would sneak about with an actor, of all things, without a penny in his pockets and nothing but a handsome face to recommend him, and risk Wolverton's finding out.”

The duchess nodded sympathetically, knowing that was just what Violet would do.

“And dear Rose, have you heard from her?”

“Haven't seen hide nor hair of her, and that's the honest truth. Last I heard, she was off on the road with that new love of hers. He'll drink her out of house and home before she knows it unless I miss my guess.”

“This is all quite sordid.” The duchess sighed, ringing for Griddon. “And I don't think I care to hear about any more of it. I'll take you on again, Violet, although I was most displeased about the way you were so ready to leave me in the lurch. But I do have a reputation to uphold, and traveling with two companions is what my set is used to see me doing. But I won't hear of you changing your mind again. Do your duties, keep the new girl in line, and you will find I will be pleased.”

When Griddon appeared, the duchess asked him to call Miss Robins down again.

“Catherine,” the duchess said as Catherine, white-faced and subdued, came to the door, “this is Violet Peterson. I have spoken about her. She finds herself suddenly able to join me again and will be going to Paris with us.”

“I understand, ma'am,” Catherine said in a small voice. “And when do you wish me to leave?”

“Why, next week,” the duchess said, “when I do, of course—don't be such a gudgeon.”

“I shall have to see to the stage schedules,” Catherine said quietly. “Would you be so kind as to write me a recommendation so that I can secure future employment?”

Violet stiffened and gave Catherine a look of offended shock.

“Your new little miss don't think I'm a fit companion to travel with,” she shrilled.

“Violet don't fit your nice notions of propriety?” the duchess growled, in her iciest dignity.

“Oh no, that is not it,” Catherine foundered, “but I thought, when you said that she was coming with you, I thought you no longer required my services. That is to say, now that you have your original companion back, I did not see what need you would have of me.”

Catherine had researched the duties of a companion as best she could before even coming to London. But some things were basic, even back in Kendal. An elderly female, or an incapacitated one, or even a healthy able young woman of means could not live in society without proper female companionship. If there were no female relations in the home, and no indigent women in some branch of the family who would be glad of a home to be pressed into service, a companion was hired. A companion served as aide, or as company, sometimes as nurse, and most often just as figurehead for propriety's sake. But she had never heard of any woman requiring two paid companions. And that seemed to be just what the duchess was now implying. Perhaps, Catherine thought, with an amazed sense of guilt, she had not looked into the social habits that prevailed in the higher echelons of society as well as she should have. And now she had unwittingly offended Violet.

“I have often told you about Violet and Rose. I frequently travel with two companions. I have a position to uphold,” the duchess said, at her iciest, feeling obliquely accused by the mock innocence of this young upstart of a girl.

“
I am sorry for the misunderstanding,” Catherine said gladly. “I should be delighted to travel with Miss Peterson, really I shall,” she said, looking beseechingly at the rigid Violet, and feeling a surge of delight at the thought of having someone to talk to at last nearer to her own age. “And I am relieved to find that you still want me.”

“Go, then,” the duchess said with unexpected relief. “Go and get acquainted. You'll be seeing a lot of each other, and I like my staff to be in harmony.”

“So you've got the green room,” Violet commented as she and Catherine made their way upstairs to Violet's room. “Rose, she used to have that one. What did you do before the old lady hired you on?” she asked disinterestedly as she walked unerringly into the room adjoining Catherine's.

Catherine, a little shocked at the familiarity with which Violet spoke of her employer, but not wanting to appear to be a prig and start the relationship off on the wrong foot, let the remark pass and merely said, “I lived with my brother-in-law and stepsister.”

“And I lived with the pixies at the foot of the garden,” Violet mocked, sweeping into her room and going straight to her looking glass.

Catherine looked nonplussed as Violet stripped the ribbon from her hair and examined her face in the mirror.

“Oh, all right, I'll play the game too,” Violet said wearily. “You lived with your brother-in-law and stepsister. Is it your first time in London then, s'truth?”

“Yes, and it's all been so strange to me.”

“Lord,” Violet sighed, “I'm going to be going across the face of Europe with Juliet. Well, you really landed in gravy hiring on with the dowager. She's a right old sort once you learn her ins and outs. Just watch your step with her, though. She's half tiddly, but the other half comes up when you least expect it. I remember once when Rose snuck out with that wild major before the duchess was ready to call it a night. Wasn't there an uproar about that, though? I thought old Rose was going to be chucked out in no time flat. But all was rosy again in the morning. Rose could never pick them. All for love, that's Rose. And not a penny in her pocket now to show for it. Not that I'm in clover either now, but after this jaunt I expect to have a few guineas put away, and you never know what gravy boats there are in Paris, do you?”

Catherine didn't know what to answer. Evidently Violet and Rose had both been up to some larks when the duchess's back was turned, and she supposed that the tedium of working for the duchess had to be relieved by some shows of spirit, but she honestly had no similar experiences to relate. So she simply smiled in a hopeful, friendly way at Violet.

Violet caught Catherine's expression in the reflection of her mirror. She stared thoughtfully. So the little miss was going to play it all airs and graces and not let her hair down? So be it, it takes all kinds, she thought. Rose had been more forthcoming, a right sort of girl. If this little chit wanted to play at being a society debutante, it was her business. And her dark hair and gamine looks and air of innocence might be a good contrast to Violet's own more spectacular looks. Just as Rose's blond buxom placidity had been a good foil for her own Titian vivacity.

But then, just for one moment, Violet caught one clear look of both their faces reflected in the oval of the mirror. Catherine's pure fine-grained white skin contrasted with her own powdered complexion; Catherine's clear startling blue eyes, with her translucent skin that allowed a faint blue tracery of veins to color her lids, contrasted with her own heavily soot-darkened lids and lashes; and the younger girl's faint blush of color above her cheekbones contrasted with her own heavily rouged cheeks. Then there was the chit's plump and dusky lips as opposed to her own richly red salved mouth, and, most damningly, the faint web of lines at the corners of Violet's eyes were not echoed on the girl's smooth face. No, Violet decided, only from across a room could the contrast between them be to her own benefit. She knew her assets as well as any banker knew his financial situation. Her own full figure and brazen coloring would catch the gentlemen's eyes long before they noticed the quiet beauty of this little miss. But standing side by side, Violet could only suffer by comparison. Her decision was made unerringly and irrevocably—she would stay away from Miss Innocence, stay far away in public, for her own good. And as far as when they were alone, time would tell if the chit would drop her air of sanctity.

“I'm for a quick kip,” Violet yawned, and, without further comment, she began to unbutton the bodice of her gown. She stripped down her clothes, as though she were alone in the room. Catherine hastily retreated, calling a good-bye that was only acknowledged by a nod and another huge yawn.

Really, Catherine thought, seeking the refuge of her own room, the women of London thought no more of nudity before other females than they did of nudity before a cake of soap. She wondered if she should write of the phenomenon to Jane in her letter next week.

But when she wrote her next letter to Jane, she mentioned not a word of it. For Arthur, she remembered, would most likely be reading Jane's letter over her shoulder. She wrote instead of the quiet Christmas she had spent, and the expectations she had of her journey. She closed by inquiring after their health and wished them all the joys of a new year. She sealed the letter and blew out her light. Then she went to her window to gaze at the moonlit streets of London, for a while. She watched some stray merrymakers reel past her observation post at the window seat and then she crept into her bed. She fell asleep as the bells rang out, and so celebrated the first moments of the new year of 1815 with quiet blameless sleep.

Chapter V

The deck of the packet to France was thronged with the fashionable of England and the Continent. Catherine tried not to goggle. There were gentlemen in the first and last cry of fashion, their capes billowing out in the wind, their hats defying every gust. The ladies wore rich garments and trailed retinues of more plainly dressed servants. Everyone boarding seemed to know each other, and the duchess nodded and smiled her tight little smile at gentlemen who bowed and ladies who stared. Gracie, like so many of the other servants who scuttled mutely and inconspicuously after their employers, only kept her attention on her mistress. But Violet, Catherine noted, behaved exactly as the duchess did, nodding and acknowledging old acquaintances. Evidently, Catherine thought, the companions of great ladies were treated exactly as their mistresses were, even though they were, in effect, no more than servants just like Gracie.

The duchess's retinue made their way to their berths. The duchess paused at the door of her cabin and looked at Violet.

“I shall rest. You know I cannot abide the sea. The mere sight of it makes me ill. But Gracie here knows what to do for me. I suppose you don't want to just languish in your cabin, eh? You'll want to see how the land lies. Well, get on with it. Let me know who's here and who's going where. But mind your manners. And take her with you,” she added, pointing to Catherine. “Let them get a look at her before we sail. That'll tickle them right enough.”

Violet looked as though she would balk at the suggestion, making Catherine feel like an ill-bred little sister who has insisted upon coming along with the grown-ups and so is hardly tolerated. But then Violet sniffed, “She's free to walk the decks, I'm sure.”

Violet was dressed, Catherine thought, as they turned from Her Grace's room, as though she were going to a high tea rather than sailing across the channel. She wore a bright burnt orange ensemble, and from the way she held her head as her fellow passengers turned to stare at her in the corridor, she acted as though she were the hostess of a large seagoing fete. Catherine felt mousy in her own rich, warm blue velvet cloak beside the glowing Violet.

As they were going out into the fresh cold sea air of the deck, Catherine noticed a small altercation taking place between the captain and a stunning attractive blond female. Although she too was dressed in the height of fashion, and was almost as theatrically brilliant as Violet, she wore an expression of consternation and seemed to be arguing with the captain. As they approached, Catherine heard Violet give out a low startled exclamation.

“Coo, now here's a turn. Look who's landed on us.”

“There,” the blonde cried, noticing Violet as she drew closer, “just ask her. That's the duchess's companion. She will tell you.”

“Excuse me, miss,” the captain said, wiping his brow, “but this lady says that the Duchess of Crewe is expecting her. She does not have her ticket, however, and I do not like to disturb Her Grace, and so perhaps you…
”

He trailed off, looking perturbed.

“Hello, Rose, old thing,” Violet said, with a slightly twisted smile. “Allow me to present Miss Catherine Robins, Her Grace's new companion.”

The blond woman looked stricken, but recovered quickly to say, “There, you see, the duchess's companion knows me. I'm sure Her Grace won't be angry if you take me to her. In fact, she might be very angry if you do not.”