Wilful Impropriety (38 page)

Miss Hammond took a seat beside her. “What’s the matter, Leah? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Leah’s neck was burning; her ears were on fire.

“I don’t want you to worry,” Leah said. “About William, I mean.” She looked up, fixed her eyes on Miss Hammond’s green eyes, willed her purpose to be clear. “I don’t care for him.”

There was a moment of quiet; Miss Hammond blinked, looked down at a spot on her skirt and brushed it away.

“You’d do well to marry him, I think,” said Miss Hammond. “He’s a clever young man, and I waited five Seasons for a man half as kind as he is.”

Courage, Leah thought; courage.

“What if I don’t wish to marry?”

Miss Hammond half smiled. “Then you have doomed yourself to disappointment one way or the other, and I am sorry for you.”

“But surely you can understand,” Leah pressed.

Miss Hammond’s mouth thinned. “Leah, I could not be more fond of you, but rare is the woman who dreams of growing old in the servants’ quarters of someone else’s house. If a good man offers, I advise you to take him.”

Leah shook her head so hard that her pins stung her scalp. “But that’s not—” she couldn’t breathe, had to struggle to speak. “That isn’t where my heart lies.”

Miss Hammond looked at her, for a long time. The candlelight carved her face into a pool of dark, two wide green eyes, a slice of light along her jaw.

Leah’s hands were fists in the bedspread.

Finally, Miss Hammond cleared her throat.

“Leah,” she said, as if her own voice pained her. “Leah, there’s no happiness in it, if you follow your heart and ignore the world.”

No, Leah thought wildly, that can’t be true, that can’t be true.

(Not always, she amended, her heart beating against her stays. Miss Hammond read romances; sometimes, if you loved someone enough and weren’t afraid, maybe the world could be ignored.)

Miss Hammond reached out for Leah’s hand, pulled it back, folded it under the one in her lap like a dove’s wings.

Leah’s eyes stung; her fingers stung; her tongue was going dry.

“Leah,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Oh God, Leah thought; oh God, pity!

Her heartbeat nearly knocked her over, and when Miss Hammond opened her mouth to speak again, Leah croaked out, “Please, don’t,” scrambled down from the bed, stumbled out (her stockings snagged on the floorboards).

If Miss Hammond called after her, she didn’t hear; her breathing drowned out any other sound.

•   •   •

Leah was too embarrassed even for tears, when she got back to her own room.

She could only close the door and turn the key with shaking hands, and pull the blankets nearly over her head, as if she could keep out her own folly.

Her heart was pounding; she felt ill, she was going to faint at any moment.

Her fingertips stung as if singed, where she had touched Miss Hammond’s blanket.

She was the very greatest fool! What had she done, to be so forward?

(Miss Hammond’s little look of pity—oh, God, she was ill, she was ill.)

The grandfather clock in the front hall struck one, then two, and still Leah lay half awake, half dreaming of some way to draw back from the door before she knocked, and walk back into her own room, and never to see such a terrible look from Miss Hammond again.

•   •   •

Leah woke from a fitful sleep while it was still dark, with enough purpose to know she had to try to make amends.

She took the stairs in stocking feet to wake Miss Hammond with apologies, and beg her to stay on for the Season, and to promise never to speak of it again.

That was how she became the first in the house to discover that Miss Hammond was gone.

•   •   •

Withdraw from a private ballroom as quietly as possible, so your departure may not be observed by others, and cause the party to break up. If you meet the lady of the house on your way out, take your leave of her in such a manner that her other guests may not suppose you are doing so.

—
Routledge

•   •   •

Her parents met her in the breakfast room to look over the note Miss Hammond had left and discuss what was to be done.

“It seems to be in hand,” Father pointed out. “They have dismissed themselves with all possible speed, and can hardly expect references. I’m not sure what’s left to be done.”

Leah’s mother had more feeling on the subject; she reread the note several times as if it was of great import, instead of just a polite rescinding of a post and a wish for general goodwill, and even when she spoke she couldn’t look away from it.

“We must do something,” she said. “We have been taken greatest advantage of! We must put an announcement in the paper condemning them. This is despicable licentiousness, and under our roof! If word gets out, imagine what they’ll say about us!”

“They’ll say you dismissed two troublesome servants as soon as you suspected anything amiss,” said Father.

“They’ll say we allowed unspeakable liberties under our roof,” Mother snapped. “We must expose them.”

“No,” said Leah, “you won’t.”

“But they might well be married by now! They might this minute be on their way to some other county to try to present themselves as a respectable couple!”

“Then let them,” snapped Leah. “They’re no concern of ours, now.”

“Leah, what on earth has come over you, that you speak to me this way?”

Leah grit her teeth. “It is only that I was the person principally injured by this deception,” she said, as calmly as she could. “I feel that no goodwill can come to me from bringing this matter to other eyes.”

“Well, I see what good they have done your manners.” She turned to Father. “What do you think of all this?”

Father sighed and rubbed his jaw and considered. Finally he said, “The Ladislaws had nothing but praise for him, which is how he came to our notice. If we say no good of him, then he will not come to the knowledge of our acquaintance, and that will handle the matter.”

He didn’t mention Miss Hammond at all; she had, of course, already vanished from consideration. Either she was now Mrs. Martin, or she would fall even farther than she had already.

Mama looked from Father to Leah; her hand holding the letter still trembled.

“Very well,” she said at last. “I may mention to the Ladislaws, when we see them in London, what has happened, so they do not recommend him to any other families. Then, perhaps, that will be an end of it. For the moment, I must try to compose myself and decide what should be done about preparations for the Season.”

After she had gone, Father nodded, said, “I’ll be in my library, I think,” and vanished likewise.

Leah doubted that Mother would keep the matter wholly quiet, but a small victory was still a victory, and at least, for once, her thoughts had been heard by her mother.

She would have to take her comforts where she could find them, for a while, or she would go to pieces.

(There was another note that Mama hadn’t seen. It was even shorter, and by now was blurred with tears, and Leah had memorized it after reading it only once.

Dear Leah,

I have taken a chance at happiness. I know you will understand me; I pray you will give me your blessing. I wish nothing but the best for you.

With great fondness,

Marie

If you loved someone enough and weren’t afraid, the world could be ignored.)

Someone rapped gleefully on the doorjamb.

“Well,” said Reg, “it’s a wonder how fast word travels when there’s any real news.”

Leah pinched the bridge of her nose. “Reg, go back upstairs.”

“And miss this? Hardly.” Reg grinned. “This is the first good bit of gossip we’ve had in ages. And you should be proud of trying to keep Mr. Martin from coming—for once, you had the right idea about someone.”

“Leave it alone, Reg.”

He shrugged. “I’m only saying, it’s just as well you never thought much of him. Mother thought you very vexing about it, but things have borne you out, I’d say, and now we’re well rid of two troublemakers.”

“Reg,” she said, and the word snapped against her teeth.

“Take a compliment when it’s offered,” said Reg, all astonishment that she might take offense. “You had more sense than that Hammond woman, at least, not that it’s saying much.”

Leah’s throat burned. Her fingernails cut into her palms. “You’re just being hateful because you’re too idle to know anything. You don’t know anything. Leave it alone!”

“I know that Miss Hammond had you wrapped around her little finger, sure enough. I was beginning to worry you’d pick up some terrible habits—”

“That’s enough.”

It was William.

Leah turned; he was indistinct (her vision was blurred, she was going to cry any moment), but there he was, framed in the doorway, his posture betraying his anger.

(How did she know what his posture meant? Everything was strange, impossible and strange.)

William took another step into the morning parlor, his arms crossed over his chest. “I suspect Mr. Martin wasn’t the only one under this roof who has no care for his reputation, Reg,” he said, with a pointed inflection on her brother’s name. “And Leah has made it clear that the last thing anyone needs is your half-formed opinions on the matter, so I suggest you leave off.”

Reg pulled a face. “Christ, Foster, you’re not married to her yet.”

“I haven’t yet read where you need to be married to someone to note them when they speak,” said William.

Reg groaned theatrically, but a moment later he left, his footsteps exaggerated all the way back upstairs.

William moved no closer. Quietly, he asked, “Are you all right?”

“Oh, quite,” Leah tried, but her throat had closed (her collar was too tight), and she could only manage to shake her head and pinch her mouth closed.

“I see,” said William. Then he bowed and said, “You’ll excuse me, I’ve recollected some business.”

When she was alone, it was easier to breathe; she could breathe enough to go out into the garden, and to turn some corners, and make sure she was alone before she sat down and wept.

•   •   •

William was sitting alone in the morning room when she came back.

Though he looked up as she passed, he didn’t call out for her, and she debated going upstairs to wash her face before she met him.

But she was slowing down; she was stepping inside.

(His face had dropped all its politeness; he looked a little ill. Somehow it helped.)

He half rose, then sat back down, placed his hands at his sides and on his knees and back again.

She took a seat in the chair beside him.

“That was kind of you,” she said.

He shook his head. “Your brother is no better than some. I think he knows it.”

“I think he is beyond caring,” Leah admitted. “My parents are not so intractable, but some things are just lost causes.”

He looked at her (the furrow in his brow, his nose that was just like hers).

“I’m sorry she left,” he said finally.

There was nothing in the words that sounded like triumph—it sounded like sympathy, and for a moment she struggled to breathe.

“Thank you,” she managed.

There was a little quiet.

It struck her, suddenly and too late, that her parents might have schemed for William to be alone with her like this.

Her mother would be scrambling for any good news that might overshadow the terrible inconvenience of the dancing master running off with the governess; an engagement would be just the thing to crow over, in London.

He cleared his throat. “Leah, I have something I’d like to say to you.”

Leah closed her eyes, steeled herself, looked at him with her polite smile at the ready.

(
I waited five Seasons for a man half as kind
, Miss Hammond had said, before she ran away.)

His gaze was fixed on the floor at the other side of the room.

“I know that—I know your heart is not inclined to me,” he said. “But I have nothing to look forward to in London. I know hardly anyone, and I am not at ease among strangers. I feel you understand me in this.”

She thought of their afternoon lessons, where he had walked through his round dances with the look of a man being led to the gallows, casting long-suffering looks at her when Mr. Martin couldn’t see.

“There was a reason they hired me a dancing master,” she said.

A shadow of a smile crossed his face. “Quite so.”

But the thought of Mr. Martin only made her think of Miss Hammond, sneaking out the back way in the dead of night, just under Leah’s own window, and vanishing into the dark.