Anne O'Brien (3 page)

Lady Beatrice had not finished. ‘He also states that he needs an
educated and proficient person
to act as housekeeper and also governess to take over the care and education of the child—what
is
her name? I can never remember—something French. Why he could not have insisted on a good
English
name I will never understand! Our family have always had
English
names.’

‘Celestine,’ Judith provided somewhat absently, her mind already occupied with the project and shutting out her mama’s habitual complaints and wilful rejection of the Italian deriva
tion of her own name. ‘Very well. I will talk to Simon about arranging for the provision of staff and…’

Sarah’s interest in the proceedings, fairly mild until this point, now found a sharp focus. Lord Joshua Faringdon. Judith’s brother. Needed a housekeeper and governess for a young girl called Celestine. In London.
An educated and proficient person.
Why not? She managed to remain silent in a blaze of impatience until Lady Beatrice completed her diatribe and took herself off, delighted at having passed the burden of her son’s return into Judith’s not unwilling lap. Then Sarah fixed her gaze on Judith, who was still perusing the list that her mama had thoughtfully left.

‘I can do that.’ A strange breathlessness gripped her.

‘Hmm?’

‘It is exactly the sort of position that I need. Which I can do. Housekeeper and governess.’

Which statement made Judith look up with an instant frown. ‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘It would be too…too demeaning! You know my opinion on the whole foolish project. But to have my friend in my brother’s employ—I will not consider it.’

‘I need a position, Judith. It is the ideal opportunity, I do assure you—consider the advantages for me.’

‘No!’

‘It will enable me to remain in London.’ Sarah leaned forward, slender hands spread on the table cloth, urgency in every line of her body.

Judith’s silent displeasure was answer enough.

‘I shall be able to educate both my son and the child. I shall regain my independence. I shall have a home.’

‘I do not think that you should.’

‘I do.’ Sarah dropped her eyes from her friend’s searching glance, her voice low. Unaware, her fingers interlaced and gripped tightly. ‘It will also perhaps help me to regain some self-respect.’

‘But, Sarah—’

‘I owe your family much.’ Now, her mind made up, her gaze was direct and steady again. ‘Here is the best opportunity I can imagine to pay off that debt, dropped into my hands as if it were a precious gift. How can I possibly turn my back against it? Let me do it, Judith. Don’t stand in my way, I beg of you…as my friend.’

As a final argument, Judith had no answer against it, and could only continue to frown her distaste for the development. Yes, she was Sarah’s friend, and knew better than most the agonies the lady had suffered as a result of her brother Edward’s malicious scheming and her own part in his clever fraud. Perhaps this means of earning forgiveness—although Judith could not see the need for Sarah to be forgiven!—would allow Sarah to achieve some essential peace of mind and put the events of the past finally to rest. Furthermore, Judith had to acknowledge that Sarah Russell could, when challenged, be a lady of considerable determination. It was rare to see her cornflower-blue eyes shine with quite that depth of emotion. Sarah was not to be dissuaded.

So, it seemed that in Sarah’s mind the matter was settled. But Judith was not at ease with the outcome.

Wisely, Sarah allowed Judith some space in which to ponder the advantages of her taking up the appointment in Lord Joshua Faringdon’s household, holding to the thought that she would soon see the sense of it. Then, when she knew that the Countess of Painscastle had spent some frustrating time in undertaking to engage the required staff for her brother, with limited and haphazard success, she broached the subject again as if the matter were indeed settled.

‘Will you tell me about him, Judith? Lord Faringdon? After all, he will be my employer and I would wish to have some knowledge of his requirements.’

Judith tutted—but in reluctant agreement. Finding an expe
rienced butler and cook at such short notice was proving difficult enough, even without the
educated and proficient person.
So if Sarah was quite determined…

‘Are you indeed sure?’

‘Certainly I am. I think that heaven has smiled on me in dropping this chance at my feet. I would be foolish to ignore it.’

The ladies were taking an airing in Judith’s barouche.

‘I would not put it quite in those words. Neither, I fear, will you after living under my brother’s roof. He can be somewhat—ah, unreliable.’

‘Unreliable?’ This was not what she had expected, although Lady Beatrice’s unexplained disapproval could not be overlooked. ‘I wish that you would tell me about your brother. I do not think I have ever heard you speak of him. And why your mama is so…so…’

‘So unforgiving,’ Judith supplied with a rueful smile. ‘Well, now. He is older than I by a little less than ten years—so we were never close as children. I admired him—the splendid older brother, as you might imagine. He had no time for me, of course—the younger sister still in the nursery—but I worshipped from afar.’ She wrinkled her nose a little as she searched her memories. ‘By the time that I had my coming-out Season, he was no longer living at home. I suppose the truth is that I do not know him very well, although he was never unkind to me as some brothers might be,’ she added ingenuously.

‘Does he have red hair like you?’ Sarah cast a quick glance at Judith’s fiery ringlets.

‘No.’ She chuckled, reasonably tolerant of her own dramatic appearance, even though it prevented her from wearing her favourite shade of pink. ‘Fortunately for him, Sher is dark like the rest of them. I was the only one to be afflicted by Mama’s colouring. How unfair life is! But his eyes are grey—sometimes almost silver—not green like mine. He is outrageously handsome, of course.’

Of course. Sarah knew only too well, claiming close ac
quaintance with the charm and good looks of both Henry and Nicholas Faringdon.

‘And he lives in Paris, I understand.’

‘Yes. Mostly. Although he has property in England. Sher married a French lady—before I was myself married—Mademoiselle Marianne de Colville was her name. The marriage was very sudden, so I think it must have been a love match. I only met her twice, once when they were wed, but I remember that she was an arresting lady—not a beauty exactly, but one of those dazzling women who take the eye, with dark hair and dark eyes. Very French, you understand, with a most stylish wardrobe. I remember being highly envious as a young girl, when fashion meant far more to me than it does now…’ Judith did not notice Sarah turning her head to survey an approaching landaulet and to hide a smile at this remarkable admission. ‘But anyway, she died in Paris more than three years ago now. It was all very sad and sudden—quite tragic—some sort of fever that did not respond to any of the advice given by the doctors. We were all quite taken by surprise—from what we knew of the lady, Marianne had always seemed so full of life. But there… She was buried in France, probably at her family home somewhere in Provence.’ Judith lifted her hand in recognition of the occupants of the landaulet. ‘I did not know Lady Portinscale was back in town. But where was I…? Sher does not talk about Marianne and her death. I expect that he was stricken by remorse, losing the love of his life. Not that you would guess from the manner in which he has conducted his life since,’ she added drily. ‘But perhaps I should not have said that.’

Sarah thought about this. Knowing Judith well, there was no need to ask the lady’s enigmatic meaning. The Countess would assuredly confide every detail to her friend before they completed the first circuit of Hyde Park. ‘Why do you call him Sher?’

‘It is a family name—Joshua Sherbourne Faringdon. A childhood thing—Hal and Nick always called him that. I think I got into the habit because Mama disapproved. It was not the
thing, she said. But Sher did not object—he always did what he could to annoy her.’

‘And so he has a daughter?’

‘Yes. Celestine. She must be a little older than John. Perhaps eight years old now.’

‘And has lived in the country.’

‘Sher sent her to England, even before her mother died, when she was quite a little girl, hardly more than a baby,’ Judith explained. ‘He has a house at Richmond on the edge of the Park, so the child has grown up there. He thought it better than keeping her in Paris—or even coming to London. She travelled with her nurse. One cannot but pity her, brought up by servants, with no other company and no one to play with. Perhaps I should have brought her to live with us—but that was before the birth of Giles and we set up our own nursery. Celestine would have been just as lonely in Grosvenor Square as in Richmond.’

‘Poor child. She will have missed her mother.’

‘I suppose. It will be better for her to be in London with a governess. I barely remember her, but on the one occasion Sher brought her to visit us when he was last home it seemed to me that she was a very plain child, silent for the most part and quite timid. As I said, she has not had an enviable life.’ Judith slanted a glinting smile at Sarah. ‘Perhaps it is a good plan after all—that you take over the care of her.’

Inclined to agree, Sarah sat quietly, piecing together her newly acquired knowledge. Poor child indeed, robbed of both parents. Had her father done anything to keep in touch with her? Sarah decided that, as a prospective employee, it was a question too delicate to ask. For herself, she could not imagine abandoning her own son in quite a different country, to be raised by paid employees who had no personal connection with the child. But, she supposed, that was not for her to question.

‘Why does your mama not talk of him?’ She returned to the blank spaces in her knowledge. ‘As the only son and heir and
now head of the family I would have expected her to welcome his return.’

‘Not at all!’ Judith took a breath. Here it came! Gossip was the spice of life to her. ‘Sher has…well, he has a
reputation
. If you had been out and about in polite society, dear Sarah, you would undoubtedly have heard.’

‘Oh.’ Sarah nodded thoughtfully. Lady Beatrice’s caustic words had suggested that such might be the case.

‘A string of mistresses. And very expensive.’ With little encouragement necessary, Judith now had no compunction in filling in the detail. ‘When he was younger, Sher was often in debt and, when Papa was alive, he expected him to bail him out. Gambling, you understand. Horses and cards. He lost a great deal of money playing
vingt-et-un
at one of the gaming hells in Pall Mall. I think it was the cause of some harsh words between him and Papa. Understandable, of course, but words that became unforgivable—on both sides.’

‘I see.’ Sarah’s eyes widened in amazement. She had had no idea.

‘And then there was the notorious Grayson affair in London.’ Judith leaned confidingly toward her friend, all animation. ‘The lady was married! And her family was one of the foremost of the
ton
. I remember nothing of it but I am told that it was all
very embarrassing
.
That
was the occasion on which Sher first went to Paris. Papa sent him there until the gossip died down, refusing to pay any further debts unless he complied and put his life in order. It was the talk of every withdrawing room in town. I think that might have been the final straw for Mama, to hear the whispering come to a halt every time she entered a room. So Mama prefers it when he makes his home in Paris. Although,’ Judith confided, finally, ‘she had not entirely given up on the thought of his remarriage to reform his wicked ways. Although who would agree to marry him, I cannot imagine. Even though he is very rich, most mamas of hopeful débutantes would not willingly look for the connection.’

‘I can well understand,’ Sarah agreed in lively horror and some degree of fascination.

‘So, you see, Sher acquired the reputation as a rake and something of a ne’er-do-well. I think perhaps he did not deserve it. He was very young.’ Judith’s pretty lips pursed as she tried for an honest judgement on her brother. ‘I am extremely fond of him. But there was also the scandal of the ladies of the chorus at Covent Garden!’

‘Really?’ Sarah found the recital riveting. ‘More than one? I had thought that all Faringdons had an eye to propriety.’

‘Not Joshua. He has an eye to every pretty member of the female sex.’ Judith sighed. ‘I shall say no more! Except to suggest that you might—indeed you might—be advised to reconsider your application for a position in his household.’

Sarah laughed and reassured her, knowing that as housekeeper her path would rarely cross with that of her noble employer. How Lord Joshua Faringdon might choose to live his life would have nothing whatsoever to do with her and have no bearing on her own duties in his establishment. But Judith’s artless confidences left her to consider that she was not the only one to have a brother in the form of a skeleton in the family closet. She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. And that Faringdon skeleton was now her employer.

Two days later Judith’s reluctant acceptance of Sarah Russell’s new status had undergone a sea change. On receipt of a letter from Paris, she was indeed prepared to say more, and did so unequivocally on running Sarah to ground in the private garden at the centre of Grosvenor Square where, despite the blustery weather, she threw a ball for John to chase and catch.

‘Sarah! I have just received a letter from my brother. I am entirely convinced that you should not take up the position in his house.’ The fact that the letter was remarkably frank and detailed had given her only a moment’s pause. If she had known how painstakingly Lord Joshua had constructed it, how much
time he had spent in plotting the scandalous content, and how much he was prepared to gamble on his flighty sister’s inability to remain silent when in possession of a delicious piece of scandal, she would have been astounded. But she did not know any of these things and so jumped to the hoped-for conclusion. Presumably Sher did not care one jot about the comment that he was about to provoke in London. He was entirely without principle and honour, despite his birth and upbringing as a gentleman. As a Faringdon! It all went to prove that Sarah should not find herself in the role of housekeeper in the resulting den of iniquity.