A Lady in Disguise Read online

  When they arrived at the Grapes and Sheaves, the landlord came bustling out, stepping around a maid who curtsied again and again in the middle of the floor. Thorpe had greeted her by name, reducing her thus to blushing and bobbing.

  “Good to see you again, Mr. Everard. My lady.” The landlord bowed. “And where’s that likely girl of yours, sir?”

  “Here I am, Mr. Stavely.”

  “Where?” the landlord asked. “Oh, heavens, I scarcely knew you, you’ve got so big. Now, I tell you. There’s a fine lemon curd tart in the kitchen that’s gone begging for a little girl to eat it, and my missus would be that pleased to show you the geese when you’ve finished it.”

  “I hardly think—” Lady Genevieve began, but her grandson spoke up before she could finish.

  “The very thing! I know you’ve been hungry for the last three hours past, Addy.” The girl nodded, her gray eyes big at this further evidence of the superiority of her father.

  “And a cup o’ tea would please the ladies?” Stavely asked.

  “It would,” Lady Genevieve said and then turned to go outside herself, perhaps to pluck a rose.

  Lillian was about to follow Addy, when she felt Thorpe’s hand on her arm. She responded to his touch at once and scolded herself for the involuntary leap her pulses gave. All I need do is turn my head to see the maid, she thought, still gape-faced and staring at Thorpe, to be reminded of how commonplace any such reaction must be to him. Without looking up at him, she freed her arm. “I must see to Addy ...” she began.

  “They’ll be spoiling her in the kitchens, and one more pair of eyes won’t be needed. Have some tea. You’ll need sustenance for the continuance of the battle that still lies ahead.”

  “What battle?”

  “You can ask that after shopping with my grandmother?”

  In a few minutes, the landlord himself brought in the tray with a brown-glazed teapot and a tiered plate of cakes. Lillian wondered if the landlord dare not trust his maids to return from a room while Everard of Mottisbury Castle remained in it. No doubt she herself would soon get over staring at him in this witless way. Perhaps a week of constant nearness would free her from the spell he cast.

  As the landlord laid out the cups and saucers, he said, “ ‘Tis easy enough to see whose daughter she is, sir.”

  “What do you mean?” Thorpe’s voice, or so Lillian thought, sharpened. Though his face was indistinct with the light behind him, Lillian felt certain the set of his shoulders was a trifle less easy than a moment before.

  “Groom leads a horse past and bless me if the little miss didn’t leave the geese and the women to press him with questions. How old, how many hands, did he throw shoes? Ah, she’s yours, right enough, Mr. Everard. There’s no mistaking a real love of horseflesh. Bred in the bone, as they say.”

  “Yes, quite.” For a moment, Thorpe turned his head away to look out the windows. Lillian did not think he saw the bright yard, mellowed by old brick walls. She poured out and handed him a cup of tea.

  “Sugar? Milk?” she asked, hoping to bring his thoughts back from wherever they strayed. With a pang, she felt it was not a happy place he dwelt in at that moment.

  But when he took the saucer from her hand, his grin was as wide and heart-stealing as ever. “Thank you. Now, Stavely . ..”

  “Sir?”

  “We shall be visiting many another shop before we’re done, I’ll be bound. I wonder if you’ll be good enough to accept all the parcels that will be sent and have them put into the carriage?”

  “That’ll be no worry to me, sir. I’ll see to the matter myself.”

  “I’d not have you do that. There’s liable to be a day’s work just in carrying them out. Miss Cole, will you be good enough to give instructions at the shops?”

  “Of course, Mr. Everard, but won’t you ... ?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck and did not meet her eyes. ‘Truthfully, I’ve had my fill of draperies and fripperies. I’ll go play a quiet game of chess with Mr. Reynolds, the good vicar here in Danbury. He bested me the last time with what I’m sure was divine aid.” Lillian smiled. Thorpe seemed affronted. “I assure you I’m not inventing anything, Miss Cole. Fairly caught between bishop and rook, his king walked out of it as though wearing goodness for a shield. I was put out about it for quite fifteen minutes.”

  It did not seem that he lost his return match, for his spirits were high in the carriage on the journey back to the castle. He sang to Addy on his knee until the girl fell asleep. Lady Genevieve nodded in her own corner. Lillian looked out the window at the western sky, streaked now with the first faint shades of sunset, finding it hard to hide her smiles at his nonsense.

  Easing his limp daughter onto the opposite cushion, Thorpe said quietly, “I dine out this evening, Miss Cole. Will it insult you to eat with the servants?”

  “I expected to eat with no one else.”

  “Oh, no,” he answered. “When I dine at home, you and Addy will join me. I do not think a child should be kept secluded from her family as though she—or I, for that matter— ate like an ogre. Needless to say, my grandmother does not agree with me.”

  “Some children’s table manners are not polished.”

  “Do you think that would trouble me? Ah, have I asked a forbidden question?”

  Lillian continued to look out at the sky, unsure of how to speak to him. Strongly though she felt she should give him a crushing set-down, say something to demonstrate clearly the gulf between the master of the house and a governess, Lillian also knew that she could not deliberately wound him. Finally, she took refuge in, “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Lady Genevieve started awake, inhibiting her grandson’s answer. However, in a moment, her head nodded downward again.

  “I mean,” Thorpe said softly, “that I find you do not like to be asked what you think. It leads me to wonder what you would say if I asked what you think of me.”

  “I think you are my employer.”

  “My employees usually look at me when I speak to them.” Had he meant to sound so stern? Involuntarily, Lillian turned her face to him. He grinned. “I was growing tired of your profile, charming though it is. You have speaking eyes. Miss Cole, and when they are turned from me, I cannot tell your thoughts.”

  “My thoughts are my own, Mr. Everard. And I think that you should not speak to me so.”

  “How so?”

  “As though . ..” Lillian chose her words carefully. His laughing intelligence would make game of any ill-considered statement. “As though I were not your daughter’s governess.”

  “I had hoped you would be my daughter’s friend, Miss Cole. Very well!” He raised his voice to a spritely level, and again Lady Genevieve’s head bobbed upward. Her blue eyes opened and she gazed without seeing at Lillian. Then, as though her eyelids were not under her control, she dozed off once more.

  “Very well,” Thorpe continued, more quietly. “I shall say nothing to you beyond ‘Good morning,’ ‘good evening,’ and ‘I hope the lessons progress well.’ And yet, Miss Cole, from the moment we met... never mind, you do not want me to speak to you as though you were anything but Addy’s governess.”

  Teasingly, now that she wanted him to continue speaking, he was silent. With curiosity and exasperation warring in her brain, Lillian revised her first estimates of him. He was a flirt, a trifler, the sort of man no woman was safe from. Undoubtedly, he regarded all females as his prey, the pursuit of which was of more interest than the capture. So she’d inform Paulina at her first opportunity, which would be soon. If she stayed the week out, it would be as much as her patience could bear.

  Chapter Five

  Nothing that happened upon her return changed her resolve. After pausing to help Lady Genevieve with the packages she’d chosen not to have sent by the shopkeepers, Lillian followed Addy to a bright bedroom off the schoolroom. A maid was folding the light, corded muslin cloak the girl had worn during the drive.

  In answer to Lillian’s quest
ion, she said, “Oh, she’s gone, miss.”

  “Gone? Where to?”

  “The gamekeeper’s cottage, miss.”

  “Very well.” Lillian thought it was going to be difficult to teach a child who was never there.

  Useless, however, to blame Addy for her attitude. Lillian knew she would not receive respect from the child if no one else gave it to her. Certainly Lady Genevieve was not in the least supportive. Indeed, Lillian suspected Lady Genevieve of absolutely encouraging her great-grandchild to behave badly. She felt desperately sorry for the next governess who would have to overcome this hostility in earnest or lose her place.

  Without a word to Lillian, the maid left the room. Lillian, remembering that Thorpe had told her she’d eat below stairs tonight, trailed after the maid. There was a mirror in the corridor that led from the upper rooms, and Lillian stopped to be sure her hair was neat. She did not want to give anyone at Mottisbury Castle further cause for censuring her.

  When she pushed open the door to the dining hall, she heard, “... Said she’d not stay to be talked down. Miss Addy did. Comin’ here with her la-di-da ways ...”

  “Coo-ee,” said a footman, nudging the maid Lillian had followed. She clapped her mouth shut to stare with the others at the governess.

  “Excuse me,” Lillian said. “Mr. Thorpe asked that I join you this evening.”

  Slowly, Mr. Becksnaff got to his feet, his napkin still in his hand. “You’re welcome. Miss Cole,” he said. “You there, Burrows, shove over.”

  The maid rolled her eyes at Lillian but did not speak. No one spoke to her or seemed to hear her when she tried to begin a conversation or join the one in progress. Had her hands not been quick to intercept passing platters, she doubted whether she would even have garnered a mouthful of food. The staff, she noticed, ate well, with several removes supplementing the partridges and beef.

  As some daylight remained after supper, Lillian decided to continue her exploration of the gardens cut short yesterday by her unexpected bath. The shrubs and trees were lit from behind by the last golden glimmerings of the sun. Lillian paused to admire the peach and purple clouds of sunset and realized that she was listening for the sound of Thorpe’s step across the gravel walks. Dismissing this foolishness resolutely, she hurried on around the corner of the house.

  A bay horse, broad of shoulder and deep of chest, waited by the door, its bridle held by a groom. The front door closed and Thorpe stood on the step, drawing on his gloves. “I’ll be back about midnight, Collins,” he said.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll wait up, then.”

  “Thank you, that’s good of you. Hello there.” For a moment, Lillian thought Thorpe must be addressing the horse. Surely, with the sun fading and the lamps not yet lit, he could not have seen her, standing just barely in view. “Miss Cole? Was there something you wanted to ask me?”

  “No, Mr. Everard.” She couldn’t stand here, hesitating like a fool. Walking out to meet him, she repressed the memory that she’d only a moment ago wished she’d had something to say to him, so that he might think of her as he set out on his ride.

  “Is anything amiss?” he asked.

  “No, sir. I was admiring your beautiful grounds.”

  “In the dark?”

  “It has only this moment grown dark, and it does not keep you from riding.”

  “There’s going to be a moon. See?” He turned and pointed to where a second sun, not yet silver, rose above the treetops. It was huge, like the face of a benevolent goddess, bending low to see that all went well with her people. “I shall come to no harm on my ride. And I haven’t far to go. I’m only going to the village to dine with my steward, as I do every Wednesday evening. Did you say something, Collins?”

  The groom, who’d choked, said, “Oh, no, sir. A... a fly flew down my throat.”

  “Then allow me to suggest that you keep your mouth closed. I trust, Miss Cole, that dinner was to your liking?”

  “Excellent, Mr. Everard.”

  “I’ve long suspicioned that my servants eat better than I. When you join me tomorrow evening, you’ll be able to tell me if I’m correct.”

  “Addy and I will be there, if I can find her.”

  “Has she run off?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m afraid the naughtinesses you committed as a child have been passed on to her.”

  “I would be glad if she took after me in some regard, though perhaps that is not the characteristic I’d choose. Pray excuse me, now; I mustn’t keep the horse standing.”

  “Of course not. Good evening, Mr. Everard.”

  “Good evening.” He stepped into the stirrup and swung his leg over the wide back of the horse as easily as if he were walking up stairs. At the light touch of his master’s heel, the black-footed horse danced away. Lillian watched, her pleasure in horsemanship more than doubled by the strength and grace of the rider.

  The groom began to walk off. “What is the name of Mr. Everard’s steward?”

  “Mr. Gatestream, miss.”

  “And does—? Never mind.” It was with difficulty that Lillian reminded herself of her complete lack of interest in what Thorpe did or who he visited. Yet she couldn’t help but wonder if Mr. Gatestream might have an attractive daughter. Other imaginings filled her head without her in the least wishing for them. A man such as Thorpe Everard could not be contented only by the meager companionship of his grandmother and his child. Somewhere there must be some woman or other who supplied his other wants, and his visits to her might well occur every Wednesday. The groom might have choked on a passing insect or on a knowing laugh.

  Retiring once more to her own room, she paced restlessly. Finding this occupation palled, she bore a candle into the schoolroom, for she’d not yet inspected the arrangements there. As far as she could remember from her own schooldays, all seemed in order. After half an hour, she was about to go once more into her room, to read sermons if no other entertainment offered, when she became aware of whispering from the room beyond. Once it made an impression on her conscious mind, she realized she’d been hearing these vague sounds for some time.

  There seemed to be only one voice, but it went on and on. A prickly feeling arose on the back of Lillian’s neck. Were there two voices? The ghostly bonging of a clock somewhere deep in the house startled her, but she retained enough wit to laugh at herself. After all, it wasn’t midnight. Whoever heard of a ghost walking at eight o’clock in the evening? After a few moments, unable to distinguish any words, Lillian knocked at Addy’s door. The whispering stopped.

  Turning the handle, Lillian opened the door an inch or two. “May I come in?”

  In a sulky voice, Addy said, “If you want to.”

  She lay under a white coverlet, all her toys around her. Lillian saw a wooden horse, several fashion babies whose ragged finery seemed to indicate a lack of a doll to be abigail, and a stuffed rag-man flopped over in a deep bow. Addy’s pale hair had been confined under a plain cap, from which the ends floated freely. She looked at Lillian with hostile eyes.

  “I am glad to find you awake,” Lillian said. “I hoped to tell you that story I promised you last night.”

  The gray eyes, so big in the small face, were lit by an anticipation quickly dampened. “If you want to,” she said again.

  Lillian drew a low chair close to the bed. “Once upon a time,” she began at once, not looking at Addy’s face, “there lived a young, handsome rajah who decided it was time to marry.”

  “What’s a ... a ... ?”

  “A rajah? It’s a kind of a king that lives in India. They are usually very rich. I saw one once no older than yourself who was so covered with jewels I could hardly tell where the boy left off and his bracelets began.”

  “Boys don’t wear bracelets,” Addy said in disgust.

  “Some do. In India. Do you want to hear about Chani?”

  “Who’s Chani?”

  “The rajah. He rode with many servants and friends to a nearby kingdom. The beautiful queen had long want
ed to marry Chani. But when he saw her handmaiden Noorina he could find no love in his heart for the queen.” Lillian, through some instinct she’d not known until that moment she possessed, kept her voice very low and even.

  “One night, Noorina met Chani in the garden, where he pledged that only she would be his wife. Noorina told him she too had fallen in love at first sight. ‘But, oh prince,’ she said, ‘my mistress is not queen only but a sorceress of black art. She will work us a mischief. Let us, therefore, flee in the night.’ Chani, however, loved honor more than life, so he went to the queen and told her everything.”

  Addy said, “Oh, dear,” then tried to look as though someone else had said it, glaring at her dolls to find the guilty party.

  “Oh dear, indeed. The evil queen hid her anger and ordered that Noorina be dressed in great state. She insisted that the lovers be married at once before her eyes. The queen said to her former handmaiden, ‘In your wedding clothes, you are very lovely. Yet there are many in the world more beautiful than you, and your prince is young.’

  “ ‘I know Chani will always be faithful,’ Noorina answered, her eyes on her beloved.”

  Prom behind Lillian came the sound of a strong step. Addy sat up in bed and said, “Hush, Papa.” Lillian did not look up though she could practically feel the warmth of Thorpe’s glance on her shoulders.

  “What happened then?”

  “Lie down again, Addy, and I’ll tell you. The festival lasted for days, but Chani was eager to return to his own kingdom with his bride. The queen loaded them with gifts, but she said to Noorina, ‘Sitting in your palanquin, you are very beautiful. Yet there are many in the world more enchanting than you, and your prince is chivalrous.’

  “ ‘I know Chani will always be faithful,’ Noorina answered, her eyes on her beloved.

  “ ‘Yet, if he kisses another before you reach his kingdom,’ the queen said, ‘he will forget you.’

  “ ‘I know Chani will always be faithful,’ Noorina answered.”