Diamonds & Deceit (12 page)

Georgiana was nervous as she came down the vast staircase to dinner. She could hear William’s voice from the drawing room. He was clearly already more than a little drunk.

“Got a tip for the Kempton races…Lord MacIvory…fine sportsman.”

Georgiana curled her lip. She knew that to William,
sportsman
meant someone who sat on the edges of sport, drinking and betting. She walked into the drawing room. Lady Edith was sitting on the sofa close to the windows, fretfully flapping at her pugs, who were gathered around her ankles. The little dogs yapped and nipped, leaping up to try to catch her draping sleeves. William, glass in hand, lolled in a chair with his back to her. Michael stood, looking as if he would like to leave the room altogether, by the door to the dining room. The potted palms cast shadows over his face, but Georgiana could tell he was scowling by the way his hands were forced deep into his pockets.

“Good evening, everyone,” she said, trying to be as bright as possible. She needed at least Edith to be in a good mood if she was to get her to agree to engage Mrs. McRory. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”

“Dinner is served.” Cooper, who had been waiting just inside the dining room door, opened the doors with a deep bow.

“I suppose you may think it’s a good evening,” Edith said as they went in to dinner. The table was laid with silver and crystal, gleaming in the candlelight. “I suppose it must be quite pleasant for you with nothing to do all day but play the piano and ride and enjoy yourself.” Her pugs scampered after her.

“Well,” said Georgiana, maintaining her good-tempered smile as Cooper held her seat out for her, “I actually wanted to speak to you about—”

“When one is a mother there is simply nothing but trouble and distress,” Edith went on without listening to her. She examined the menu with a sigh. “Dear me, Cook has so little imagination. If we had only engaged a French chef as I asked—”

William waved his empty glass at the butler, who instantly moved to fill it. “Westlake’s cheap, that’s the problem,” he announced. “He has no idea of how a man of property must present himself.” The footmen moved around the table, serving the soup course.

“As you do, you mean?” Michael said with a sneer. Georgiana winced, but Edith was speaking over him, and William didn’t hear.

“Augustus is such a sensitive child and Priya certainly has a way of managing him, but she is so nervous,” Edith continued. “I merely enter the nursery and she starts as if she has seen a ghost. I sometimes wonder if she has. Indians are so attuned to the supernatural.” She gave a dramatic shiver.

Georgiana did not dare look at Michael. Instead, she pushed her soup to one side and leaned forward. “Of course everything has been in so much disorder since Mrs. Cliffe handed in her notice,” she said, “but I am delighted to say that we have found an excellent possibility to replace her.”

“Really?” Edith did not sound convinced. “I hope she is not too expensive.”

“Very reasonable, really. She previously worked for the Duke of Westminster,” Georgiana said, hoping that this would impress Edith.

“Oh indeed?” Edith looked happier.

“Yes, and so if you are agreeable, I would like to write and offer her the position.”

“Down, Cupid! Oh dear, no, not on the carpet—not again.” Edith looked up from the pug as a footman hurried up with a cloth. “Yes, yes, that is all very well, but what shall I do about the nursemaid? I wonder if her brain is quite all right? Sometimes she seems quite lost in her own thoughts.”

“She does own those, you know,” Michael muttered, but only loud enough for Georgiana to hear. She knew how much it must be costing him to control himself and not speak out in Priya’s defense, and she was grateful for his strength. If anyone guessed their relationship, Priya would be the one in trouble.

“So I hear you’re not going back to Eton?” William boomed from the other end of the table. “That’s right, lad, school is for milksops. I got out as soon as I could.”

“But university—” Georgiana began.

“Oh, that’s for muffs. I never went, and look at me now.” His face was red, and strands of soup were caught in his moustache. “Wine, Cooper.”

Georgiana glanced at Michael. The look of disgust on his face was plain. Perhaps, she thought, she would yet find herself in the extraordinary position of being grateful to cousin William.

As soon as supper was over, Georgiana rose and met Edith on the way out. “So may I engage her? Mrs. McRory, that is?” she said eagerly.

“Oh, very well. I suppose we have to have someone. But it is a great inconvenience to me, personally.” Edith tossed her head and floated off in a mist of Russian scarves and a foam of slobbering pugs. “Come, sweeties. Sugared almonds for you now.”

Georgiana hesitated. Instead of following William and Edith into the drawing room, she turned aside. Michael had excused himself and turned to go in the opposite direction. She followed him.

She found him in the library, standing by the great globe that she remembered her father examining so often as he worked. The oak bookcases loomed over him, a smell of leather and paper and old cigar smoke filled the room. Michael was gazing at India on the map. He looked up when she came in.

“I just wanted to say how grateful I am that you did not make a scene at supper,” Georgiana said quietly. They hadn’t spoken in private since their argument, and she was a little nervous about how he would react. “It must have been very difficult, but I know you did the right thing, for Priya.”

Michael gave her a small, unhappy smile. “Everything I do is for her. I want to make her proud, as proud of me as I am of her.”

Georgiana came closer to him, touched by the affection in his voice. “She will be. I know she will be.”

“But not if I turn out like that bounder.” With a tilt of a chin he indicated the drawing room, and William.

“You won’t. How could you?”

“Did you hear what he said about not going to university? I don’t want anyone comparing me to him.”

Georgiana looked at him hopefully. Michael gave the globe a last spin. “Oh, stop looking at me like that. You were right, all right? I freely admit it.”

“Oh, Michael!” Georgiana clapped her hands. “So you’re going back to Eton?”

“
Thinking
about it,” he said grumpily, but he caught her eye and smiled, a proper, mischievous Michael smile, the kind she hadn’t seen for a long time. “To tell you the truth,” he admitted, pushing his hand through his tousled hair, “I feel I’ve been a bit of an oaf to you. I’m sorry, Georgie.”

Georgiana impetuously threw her arms around him and hugged him. A second later she drew back, blushing. “I’m so sorry—but I’m so pleased. For you and for Priya.”

He smiled at her. “We’ll never forget all you’ve done for us, Georgie. You’re more my sister than Charlotte ever was, you know that.”

Georgiana smiled back. She was aware of a soft bruised thing in her chest that might be her heart. But whether it was aching because she felt the pain of his love for Priya or because she wanted that love for herself, she didn’t know.

She had always thought that when she fell in love, it would be obvious. But it seemed things weren’t that simple. Nothing was simple at all.

Charlotte came down the stairs of Milborough House with the unhurried elegance of one who knows the race is already won. She cast a glance toward the mirror on the landing, and smiled. Her new Poiret hat was the smartest pink and black, a charming brooch of jet and rose amethyst set it off, and the cut of her bodice was daringly modern. She adjusted the brim of her hat just a touch, so it dipped below one eye, and arranged the coils of the necklace so the eye was drawn inward and downward.

Nothing stood between her and the duke now. The Huntleighs were an old family, and no matter how unconventional he liked to think himself, this one would never marry a housemaid. Before long, a ring—indeed, the Huntleigh parure ring—would be on her finger. Then it would be time to humiliate Laurence. It was lovely to have something to look forward to.

She went on down the steps, smiling to herself. Sunbeams poured through the fanlight and spread across the boldly tiled floor, reflecting off the gilded frames, the mirrors, the silver bowl crammed with roses that decorated the hall table. It was such a dazzling picture that for a second Charlotte could not tell where the sound of sobbing came from. She blinked, and realized there was a girl sitting on a small, battered suitcase by the door. Hardly a girl—she looked to be about Charlotte’s own age. The inelegant way she was slumped, her red hands and cheeks, her common, clumpy shoes, her unfashionable dress, all proclaimed her to be a servant.

Charlotte was a little taken aback. The girl did not seem to have noticed her at all; she was sobbing too hard. Charlotte hesitated. If she went over there she might end up being wept on, and her pale-pink suede gloves would not take that well. But she could not quite bring herself to walk straight past the girl as if she were a piece of furniture. Charlotte took another, indecisive step forward.

The girl started at the sound of footsteps. She looked up, then leapt to her feet like a startled rabbit. “I’m so sorry, my lady,” she blurted. She gulped and swallowed back tears.

Charlotte murmured something and made to walk past her. But the sound of the girl’s muffled, swallowed sobs plucked at something in her. She knew what it was like to cry alone and try to hide it.

She turned to the girl. “May I ask”—her voice came out sharp—“what on earth is the matter? And,” she added, her curiosity increasing, “who you are?”

The girl gulped and rubbed her nose with a plain white handkerchief. Charlotte watched her uncomfortably, half wishing she had said nothing.

“I—I’m Annie Bailey, my lady. Housemaid at Somerton.” Her sobs threatened to overwhelm her again. “Least I w-was.”

“Annie!” Charlotte was startled. Yes, of course there was something familiar about her. “But what are you doing here?”

Annie burst into fresh tears as she began to explain. Charlotte listened in astonishment. It was hard to sort the words from the sobs, but eventually she began to piece together the story. The girl had had some farfetched idea about being lady’s maid to Rose, she had come down here, and Rose, unsurprisingly, had told her to go back again. Charlotte was not sure whether to laugh or lose her temper. It was too ridiculous. And yet of course one would have expected this kind of situation to arise following the Earl’s insane decision to adopt his illegitimate daughter.

“And sh-she told me go to back to Somerton,” Annie finished with a sniff. “I can’t go back. They’ll all mock me.”

“Oh dear,” Charlotte murmured. She was thinking quickly.

“She s-said it would cause trouble for her if I stayed.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Charlotte placed a hand—gingerly—on the girl’s shoulder. Annie looked up in surprise. Charlotte forced a smile, trying not to think of the grease that was probably adhering to her suede glove even now.

“My dear, I can’t bear to see you so upset. Anyone can see you are well turned out and would make an excellent lady’s maid.”

“That’s just what I said. But Rose—I mean, Lady Rose—wouldn’t listen.”

“Extraordinary.” Charlotte shook her head sadly. “She has become so headstrong this season. Almost as if she were getting ideas beyond her station.” Then, as if struck by a sudden and delightful idea, she clapped her hands. “I know! Why shouldn’t you stay and be
my
maid?” Charlotte had enough faith in her own taste to feel it was worth a risk.

“Your maid, my lady?” Annie gasped.

“Yes! It would answer perfectly, don’t you think?”

“Why yes, b-but…” Annie drew breath. “Don’t you already have one?”

“Yes, but between you and me she is quite careless and dirty, and dishonest too. Besides she is not as elegant as you clearly are. You obviously have a natural grace and—and modesty.” Charlotte was surprised at and rather proud of her ability to make things up on the spur of the moment. Perhaps I should write a novel after I am the Duchess of Huntleigh, she thought. She quickly dismissed the thought; far too much like work.

“Do you really mean it?” Annie gasped.

“Of course I do! I am sure we can find you something to do until my maid leaves.” Plenty to do, she thought. It would be very advantageous to have a girl like Annie downstairs.

“Oh, thank you, my lady! Thank you!” Annie clasped one of Charlotte’s gloved hands and covered it with grateful kisses. “I can never thank you enough. Never, ever. I’d have been so humiliated to go back there.”

“
Please
, don’t thank me.” Horrified, Charlotte managed to extricate herself from Annie’s grasp. She didn’t dare glance at the state of her gloves. “Now I must rush, and there are a few small matters I must attend to before you can take up your post. But just dry your eyes and take your case back upstairs. If Sanders asks any questions, tell him you answer to me now.”

Annie was still flurrying curtsies as Charlotte sailed out through the door the footman held silently open for her. The car was waiting at the bottom of the steps, and the chauffeur, his brass buttons gleaming in the sun, leaped to open the door for her. As Charlotte hastened down the steps she was already pulling at her gloves, and as she settled herself into the motorcar’s plush interior she removed them with a fastidious shudder. There were smudges on the pale pink suede. Happily she had remembered to bring a fresh pair.

“Drive on,” she ordered, and as the car pulled away she tossed the gloves out of the window. They landed in the gutter and lay fluttering there with the fallen cherry blossoms, and were quickly crushed under the wheels of an omnibus.